The Apothecary's Poison (Glass and Steele #3)(83)

"Not particularly," Mr. Barratt said. "I was concerned for Miss Steele after reading about the accident. I was concerned about you too, of course."

Matt grunted. "Of course."

"I'm relieved to see her looking as pretty and healthy as ever."

"She's not."

Mr. Barratt and I both stared at him.

"I mean, she does look as pretty as ever, but she's not altogether unharmed," Matt said.

Mr. Barratt's eyes narrowed as he studied me anew. "She mentioned bruising. Miss Steele, is there something you didn't tell me?"

"She's not your concern," Matt cut in before I could answer. "I'll see to her health and wellbeing."

"Matt!" I instantly regretted my outburst when he turned his glare onto me. Why was he in such a foul temper this morning?

He looked away and passed a hand over his eyes. "My apologies, Mr. Barratt. It was good of you to call on her. Yesterday was a trying day. I can't speak for Miss Steele, but I'm still recovering from the shock. It's too easy to imagine what might have happened."

The frankness of his admission set my heart racing. There was no doubting his sincerity. The rawness of his voice could not be faked. I stretched out my smallest finger on the sofa to touch his, either to thank him or reassure him, or…I didn't know why. I just wanted to connect with him.

But my finger didn't reach, and Mr. Barratt spoke. I tucked my fingers away.

"I must go," he said, checking the clock. "I have a meeting. Thank you for the tea. I'll be writing some articles about Hale's murder, so if you learn anything else, do pass it on to me."

"We won't learn anything more," Matt said. "Our involvement has ended."

We walked with him to the front door and I got the feeling from Mr. Barratt's hesitant goodbye that he wanted to say something more. Matt must have sensed it too.

"Is there anything else?" he pressed.

Mr. Barratt rocked on his feet and glanced through his lashes at me. "The theater, Miss Steele?"

"Oh," I said. "Yes, of course."

"Friday night, then."

Oh dear. I had only acknowledged the invitation, but he'd taken it as agreement and it seemed we were now off to the theater together. I felt Matt watching me and didn't dare glance his way.

"I'll send word about a time when I've looked at the program." Mr. Barratt said his farewells and exited.

I headed back to the drawing room but regretted my decision when Matt followed me. He did not resume his seat but remained in the doorway, filling it with his presence. I felt trapped.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, deciding to remain standing too.

"You're going to the theater," he said. "With Barratt."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because he asked me."

He folded his arms and regarded me down his nose. "Why didn't you tell me you wanted to go to the theater? I would have taken you."

"Because I didn't specifically want to go to the theater. He asked and I found myself accepting. There's nothing more to it."

"Nothing more to it?" He advanced into the room.

I stepped to the side, eyeing the door. I had the awful feeling this conversation was heading down a path I didn't want it to go. I wasn't prepared.

Fortunately a fierce rap on the front door distracted us both. I went to step around Matt, but he caught my elbow.

"We need to have this conversation, India," he said. "You can't run from it forever."

He let me go as his Aunt, Lady Rycroft, entered the drawing room, her three daughters in tow. I groaned, wishing I'd escaped faster. Perhaps I could plead soreness and retire.

I bobbed a curtsy but Lady Rycroft barely even looked at me. She wore a turban of bright turquoise that covered all her hair. Her striped jacket matched its color. It would have been a smart outfit if not for the alternating pink stripes. The bright colors made her complexion even more sallow.

"I have a bone to pick with you, Matthew." She swept past him and descended onto the sofa as if it were a throne and she had every right to sit on it. "Come, girls."

The girls followed her like puppets on strings, obediently doing her bidding. Only Hope rolled her eyes at Matt then winked as she passed him. He offered no smile in return.

"Is something the matter, Aunt?" he asked with thinly disguised patience.

"Something most certainly is the matter." She glared at the chair but he did not take the hint. "Sit down, Matthew. Looking up at you is giving my neck an ache."

A muscle in his jaw pulsed but he sat. "Tea?"

"This is not a social call."

"If it's about the accident, I want to reassure you that India and I are both fine."

"What accident?"

"There's been an accident?" Hope asked. Clearly they did not read the papers.

"Never mind," Matt muttered.

"I'm here to tell you to stop interrogating our pharmacist," Lady Rycroft said, her vowels plummier than ever. "He told me what you've been doing and I don't like it. You must cease immediately."

"And who is your pharmacist?"

"Mr. Pitt."