The Apothecary's Poison (Glass and Steele #3)(77)

Perhaps because he thought it might incriminate him further. Buying the rest of the Cure-All was one thing, but buying out a rival's business was quite another.

Matt inspected the medicine chest near his elbow. He opened the lid and drawers, and inspected the medicine bottles placed there for display. "Perhaps you should have considered it," he said to Mr. Pitt. "Without the Cure-All, and the damage Hale's death has done to your reputation, you might find your profits dwindling." He pulled a powder packet from one of the drawers and read the label.

Mr. Pitt snatched it off him and gave Matt such a fierce glare that Matt put up his hands and backed away.

The little bell above the door tinkled and a woman dressed in a simple black and white dress walked in. She paused just inside the doorway, her startled gaze on Matt. Then she bobbed her head and performed a shallow curtsy.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Glass," she said.

"Good afternoon," he said as he passed her. "You don't need that, India," he said to me.

"Pardon?" I had been concentrating on the woman and forgotten I'd picked up a pot of the cream until he pointed to a line on the label that read IMPROVES THE COMPLEXION.

"Your complexion doesn't need improving." He took the pot from me and returned it to the top of the pyramid. "Good day, Mr. Pitt."

Mr. Pitt waved at us from the counter where the woman now stood, inspecting a cluster of blue bottles. The bell above the door chimed as we exited.

"Who was she?" I asked.

Matt frowned at the closed door. "I can't recall but she does seem familiar."

"She certainly knew you. Perhaps she's one of your past liaisons," I said, knowing perfectly well it wasn't. I was quite sure Matt had not had so much as a dalliance since I'd met him, which was almost the entire time he'd been in London.

My teasing had little effect, however. He continued to frown. "I usually remember those," he said, sounding distracted.

"Usually?"

His cheeks pinked. "I mean always. I always remember my past liaisons."

"What? All of them? My, my, you must have an excellent memory."

He opened the carriage door and put out his hand to assist me up the step. "Very amusing, India. There aren't that many. In fact, hardly any, and not all that serious."

"I think the gentleman doth protest too much."

He folded up the step and climbed in. His face drew close enough to mine that I could see the wicked gleam in his eyes. "And I think the lady is trying to trick me into discussing my past when all she has to do is ask." He sat opposite and tossed me a smile. "I'll tell you anything you want to know."

I tried to affect the same devil-may-care air as him, but I suspected I failed. "Of course I don't want to know. Why would I?"

His smile widened.

Bryce drove into Park Street and Matt turned to the window and scanned the vicinity. My watch chimed.

We both stared at it, hanging from its chain around my neck. It chimed again and throbbed.

Matt thumped on the ceiling. "Don't stop!" he shouted.

But Bryce couldn't have heard him with the window up. The coach began to slow as we approached number sixteen. Matt went to open the window, but I caught his arm.

"It's too dangerous," I said.

As if it agreed with me, my watch chimed. I clutched it tightly. Its pulse warmed my palm, the regular beat counting out the seconds.

"I'm not getting out," Matt said. "Just telling him to drive on so we can see who's there. You keep watch through—"

A gun fired.

Wood splintered, and the horses squealed.

"Get down!" Matt went to dive across me but the frightened horses took off and the coach hurtled forward. He fell back and I tumbled onto the seat beside him.

Bryce shouted orders at the horses but our speed only picked up. Matt helped me to sit then looped his arm around my waist, anchoring me. Bryce's shouts became more frantic, his panic doing nothing to calm the animals. The end of the street must be near. Oh God.

"Brace yourself!" Even as Matt said it, the coach lurched to the right.

The cabin tipped. It happened so fast that I hardly registered Matt pulling me across his lap so that our positions swapped. He took the full force of the impact, using his body to cushion my fall.

But his body was hard and the impact profound. My right side took the brunt of it, slamming into Matt, the seat, walls. Pain pierced my shoulder and hip, and my heart felt as if it would burst out of my chest. I couldn't breathe.

The deafening crash of the coach hitting the road rang in my ears, drowning out my cries and Matt's groans. Glass shattered, wood splintered. And then the awful, relentless grind as the carriage was dragged on its side, the horses still trying to flee. Bryce… Oh God.

Someone outside screamed.

I pushed up and collapsed again as pain spiked from my shoulder across my back and down my arm. Matt lay beneath me, his eyes closed. He didn't move.

"Matt?" I managed to roll off him despite the shuddering movement of the cabin. I bent my ear to his lips. Nothing. He wasn't breathing. "Matt!" I pressed my hand to his chest over his heart. It was utterly still.

"MATT!" I clasped his face, turning it to me.

Blood oozed out from behind his head, smearing the broken shards of window glass underneath.