The Apothecary's Poison (Glass and Steele #3)(81)

All the emotion of the afternoon surged through me like a tide, drowning out the voice of reason. There was just Matt and me, and the kiss that I wished would progress from gentle to passionate.

I stretched my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his. My shawl slipped down and I felt wanton, brazen, with only my chemise and a waistcoat covering my breasts. He must be able to feel them, and my rapidly beating heart.

He laid a hand on my hip and I gasped in pain against his mouth.

He broke the kiss. "Christ. I forgot. Did I hurt you?"

"No."

"I must have or you wouldn't have gasped like that."

"It's nothing. I'm fine."

I was not fine, but it wasn't my hip that hurt. My soul felt bruised as I stood there, his kiss lingering on my lips, and the gap between us widening. I could see the desire fading from his eyes and the disbelief and regret replacing it with every passing second. He did not speak for some time, but he didn't need to for my confidence to slowly recede. I folded my arms over my chest, tucking the ends of the shawl away.

"India, I'm sorry." He raked his fingers through his hair. "I don't know what came over me."

I shrugged off his concern, searching for words to serve back at him. But I couldn't find any. I didn't know what I wanted to say. Should I tell him I wanted to resume the kiss or pretend I did not? Pretend that all would be well between us in the morning? Or tell him that everything had changed now?

"Goodnight, Matt." I opened my door and rushed inside. I closed it without glancing back.



Matt and the others had gone out before I rose in the morning. I ate a light breakfast with Miss Glass in her rooms then read the newspaper to her. She didn't appear to be listening, however. I couldn't concentrate and skipped words and, once, an entire paragraph. She made no comment, but continued to stare out the window at the street below. Perhaps the events of the day before troubled her so much that she couldn't take her mind off them.

I knew how she felt. Between Bryce's death, my injuries, Matt's resurrection, and the kiss, my own mind spun like a top. Thank goodness Miss Glass didn't know about that kiss. I couldn't sit through a lecture about the importance of Matt marrying well. I must ask him not to mention it to her. Or to anyone, for that matter.

Perhaps he'd already come to the same conclusion, hence his absence. I hoped so. The shorter that conversation, the better.

Miss Glass sat forward on the chair and peered straight down at the street below. "Someone comes," she said. "A gentleman."

"Someone for Matt," I said.

But a moment later, Peter announced that Oscar Barratt wished to speak to me in the drawing room.

"Did you tell him Mr. Glass wasn't at home?" I asked.

"Yes, ma'am. He insisted that you would do just as well."

"Come, India." Miss Glass rose and held out her hand to me. "I'll chaperone you."

"I hardly need a chaperone to speak to Mr. Barratt."

She touched my chin and inspected the cut on my cheek. "You'll do."

"Do? For what purpose?"

"For the purpose of catching his eye."

"Miss Glass!"

"Don't play coy with me, India. I know you too well. This fellow may be perfect for you."

"You've never met him," I said, following her out.

"I am about to." She marched on, a formidable erectness to her spine. She would not deviate from her matchmaking mission.

"Miss Steele!" Mr. Barratt rose from the armchair by the fire and smiled broadly. "I am beside myself with relief at seeing you looking well. I read about the accident in this morning's papers. I hoped the reports of your good health were correct and that your condition did not deteriorate overnight. I am very happy to see you unharmed, aside from the scratch."

"Thank you, Mr. Barratt. As you can see, I am quite well. The scratch is minor." I introduced him to Miss Glass. After a brief exchange, she sat on the sofa and proceeded not to say another word.

"The papers said your coachman died," Mr. Barratt went on once settled again in the armchair. "It must have been a terrible accident.

"It was."

"And yet here you are, mostly uninjured. Remarkable."

"I do sport some bruises," I told him tightly. "Nothing of concern, however."

He winced and gave me a sheepish shrug. "I'm sorry, Miss Steele. I don't mean to sound like a journalist fishing for information. It's a terrible habit of mine. I want us to be friends, considering our…" His gaze flicked to Miss Glass. "…our similarities."

"Your friendship is most welcome," I said. "I'd like that too."

His face flushed ever so slightly. It made him seem vulnerable, and I liked him a little more for it. "Tell me about the accident," he said. "The papers mentioned the horses were startled but did not say how. They claimed Mr. Glass also walked away unscathed. I hope that's true."

"He's unharmed," I said.

"Good to hear."

"As to the horses being startled, we heard a gunshot."

"Someone shot at you?"

"Most likely, considering our recent encounter with Lord Coyle's man. We're not entirely convinced that the gunman is connected to Coyle, however it does seem to be someone who wants us to stop investigating Dr. Hale's murder."