The Watchmaker's Daughter (Glass and Steele #1)
C.J. Archer
Chapter 1
London, Spring 1890
There were several reasons why I fell in love with Eddie Hardacre, but seeing a painter put the finishing touches to “E. HARDACRE, WATCHMAKER” on the shop front that had been in my family's hands for over a century, I couldn't remember any of them. My former fiancé was worse than a pirate. At least pirates were loyal to their crew. Loyalty was a bartering tool Eddie employed whenever he needed to gain someone's trust. Someone like my poor, foolish dead father. And me.
It was time to tell Eddie what I thought of him. I'd kept my anger bottled inside for long enough, and if I didn't let it out, I would never heal. Besides, now was the perfect time, as a customer inspected one of Father's watches. Eddie loathed public displays of emotion.
I would give him the most public of emotional displays that I could.
I tugged on my jacket lapels, threw back my shoulders, and marched past the gentleman's shiny black coach and into the shop that should have been mine.
The entrance was as far as I got. The familiarity of my surroundings pinched my heart. The rich scent of polished wood mingled with the subtle tang of metal. The myriad tick tocks, which irritated so many customers after mere minutes inside, summoned a well of memories. The individual rhythms sounded chaotic when placed in one room together but they reassured me that all would be well, that I had come home. It had been two weeks since I'd heard their song. Two weeks since I'd stepped inside the shop. Two weeks since Father died.
It was time.
Nothing had changed inside. The counter top stretched across the back, as sleek as ever. Behind it, the door to the workshop was closed. I recognized every clock hanging on the walls and set out on the tables, and all the glass display cabinets seemed to be filled with the same watches, from the inexpensive open faced variety to those with elaborately designed silver cases, known as hunters. Even Father's ancient tortoiseshell and ormolu still ticked to its unique rhythm, but no one had bothered to correct it. It was three minutes slow.
"I'll be with you in a moment," Eddie said without looking up from the watch he was showing the gentleman. Such poor shopkeeping! One should always make eye contact with every customer. A warm smile and pleasant greeting never went amiss, either.
I was, however, glad that he hadn’t seen me immediately. "Excuse me, sir." I addressed the back of the customer's dark head. He did not turn around, but I didn't let that stop me. "Excuse me, sir, but unless you wish to finance a liar and swindler, you should not purchase a thing from this man."
Eddie glanced up with a gasp. The color leached from his face. "India!" He spluttered a hasty, "Excuse me," to his customer and rounded the counter. Arm out to usher me to the door, the color flooded his face as quickly as it had left it. "How lovely of you to visit me here, but as you can see, I'm rather busy. I'll call on you later, my dear."
I ducked beneath his arm, turned so that I could keep him in my sight, and backed toward the counter. I wanted to see Eddie's face turn ruby red as I informed his customer of his despicable behavior. "I am not your dear anymore, and I cannot believe that I ever wanted to be." I used to consider him handsome, with his blond curls and blue eyes, and I'd once thought myself fortunate that he'd chosen me as his bride. My gratitude had been smashed to pieces, along with my future, two weeks ago. Now I thought him one of the ugliest men I'd ever seen .
"India!" He lunged for me, but I was ready for him and stepped behind the table holding the collection of small mantel clocks. "Come here at once." When I didn't, he stomped his foot on the floor like a spoiled child not getting his way.
I gave him a tight-lipped smile. "If you want me to leave, you will have to catch me first."
He glanced past me to the gentleman who must have been quite stunned by my shocking behavior. I didn't care what he thought. I had always been known as the prim and proper daughter of Elliot Steele, but recent events had changed me. Let the dusty old men gossip about me at the guild's dining table. It no longer mattered, since I was not connected to the guild through Father or the shop anymore.
Eddie suddenly dodged to the left. I swerved and moved farther around the table. He growled in frustration.
I laughed and inched closer, daring him to try again. Part of me wanted him to catch me, so that I could force him to act like the overbearing brute I knew him to be in front of a customer.
"You're making a scene," Eddie hissed.
"Good."
He licked his lips and his gaze flicked to the gentleman behind me again. He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders, attempting to look as if he were in control. "Come now, India, be a good girl and leave this gentleman in peace. He doesn't wish to witness your hysterics."
"I'm a little too old to be called a girl, Eddie, don't you think?"
"Quite," he said, his tone grating. "Twenty-seven is definitely past the flush of youth."
He might as well have announced that I was too old to wed. I was surprised he hadn't used it as an excuse to end our engagement, but then again, he'd known my age before he proposed. "Nor am I hysterical," I added.
Eddie smiled. It was all twisted cruelty. I braced myself for his next words. "India and I were once engaged," he said to the gentleman who had remained silent behind me. "Alas, her rather fanciful and forthright nature only became evident after our betrothal. I suppose I ought to be thankful that she didn't hide her true self until after it was too late." His laugh was as insipid as his pale blue eyes. "I had to end our engagement or risk our children becoming afflicted."