The Watchmaker's Daughter (Glass and Steele #1)(19)

She was definitely a woman. Her figure was as curved as mine and certainly couldn't be mistaken for a masculine one. Yet she wore loose men's trousers and a man's leather waistcoat over a plain white shirt. Her black hair had been arranged in a relaxed style on top of her head, as if she'd slept with it like that. Even dressed in masculine attire, she had a pretty oval face, despite the scowl and pursed lips.

"The privy's that way." She jerked her head in the opposite direction to Mr. Glass's room.

"Thank you." I tried to edge past her, but she caught my arm.

I shook myself free and matched her scowl with one of my own. "I really have had enough of being waylaid today, thank you. Kindly allow me to pass."

She merely folded her arms and widened her stance. "I'm not sure I should until I've spoken to Matt."

"Matt?"

"Matthew. Mr. Glass." So she was on a first name basis with him too. I supposed I should have suspected.

I decided to change tactics and thrust out my hand. "Since there's no one about to make introductions, shall we just introduce ourselves?" I smiled. Her scowl deepened. "My name is India Steele."

"So you said."

"And you are?"

"Not trusting you."

I withdrew my hand. "May I ask why?"

Her scowl disappeared. She cleared her throat and looked somewhat less sure of herself. "You talk like a proper English lady, but you don't dress like one."

I didn't tell her that she talked like a woman and dressed like a man. Until I knew how she would accept such quips, it was best to keep them to myself. Particularly since I was in something of a precarious situation while living in the house of a man I didn't trust.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You're loose in the general area of your pups."

"Pups?"

She indicated my chest.

"Oh." My face heated and once again I found myself folding my arms over my breasts. "That's why I need the privy. I'm in need of a sewing kit and a private room."

She considered this by twisting her mouth to the side. Hands on hips, she turned and walked off. A few paces away, she stopped and looked over her shoulder at me. "Come on, then."

I followed her. "Thank you, Miss…"

"Willie Johnson. Call me Willie, not Miss Anything. Got it?"

"Er, yes, you stated your wishes very clearly."

She stopped and rounded on me, her face only an inch from mine. "Are you having a joke at my expense?"

I tried not to splutter at the stench of tobacco on her breath. "Not at all." I hoped she believed me. She may be a woman, but I didn't feel any safer with her than with Mr. Glass's other servants. She seemed fiercer than Duke. "Tell me, Miss— Tell me, Willie, are you the housekeeper here? Or the cook perhaps?"

She blinked at me then burst into raucous laughter that had me stepping back to avoid her breath. "Me, cook? Not likely. They'd rather starve than eat my cooking. As to cleaning, no thanks." She snorted then wiped her nose with the back of her hand. I was beginning to wonder if she'd been raised by wild bears. "There you go." She jerked her head at a nearby door.

I opened it but didn't go in. "That's not the privy."

"It's my room. Or one of them. Matt gave me the lady's suite, as he called it, even though I said I didn't need this much space." She indicated I should go in ahead of her. "My needle and thread are in there, but I've thought of something better."

I went in ahead of her. The room was a large sitting room with chaise longue positioned beneath a window, a table, two armchairs by the fireplace, tea table on wheels, a writing desk and empty glass display cabinet. The sage green and cream striped wallpaper matched that of the sofa, and it all matched the tiny green flowers on the curtains and cushions. It was far too feminine for the woman standing beside me. Perhaps that was why it looked like it wasn't used. It smelled like it too, all stale and close. No tobacco, though.

Willie closed the door. "Come with me to my bedroom and undress." She indicated an adjoining door. "Go on, don't get all prim and missish now."

I followed her to the bedroom door, but didn't go in. This room didn't smell unused. Indeed, the scent of lilacs was quite strong here. "I'm not being prim, I'm simply wondering what you have in store for me."

Willie rummaged through a large trunk at the end of her bed and pulled out a brown cotton dress with a lace cream falling collar. She shook it out and held it up for me. "It's real ugly, but it'll fit you."

We were of a size, true, and while the dress wasn't overly pretty, it wasn't ugly either. It had no embellishments whatsoever except for the large collar. It was certainly in a better state than my button-less gown. I would guess it had never been worn. "You're loaning it to me?" I asked her.

"Keep it. I don't wear dresses, corsets and ladies' things. A girl can't run in them, or holster a gun on her hip."

"True, but they're excellent if you want to trip someone over." She gave me a blank look. "Your feet can't be seen beneath these skirts." I gave her a demonstration.

"I'd rather run or fight."

I sighed. "Sometimes, so would I."