The Watchmaker's Daughter (Glass and Steele #1)(24)

"He's so lovely," she eventually said, closing my valise and fixing the clasp in place.

"Mr. Glass? I hadn't noticed."

"Tosh! Of course you have. And to think, you're going to stay with him in his house. What an opportunity!"

"I know what you're referring to, Catherine, and I think you've gone mad. I am not going to throw myself at Mr. Glass."

"Perhaps he'll throw himself at you."

That had us both laughing until we collapsed on the bed, out of breath.

Once recovered, we headed back down to the parlor with my valise. I touched Catherine's hand before we went in, wanting some sort of reassurance from a person I knew and trusted. Despite our laughter, I was anxious about staying in Mr. Glass's house. He and the other members of his household were nothing like us. They were bold and brash, and they talked about holsters and…pups. They could be outlaws. I could be walking into something too deep to dig myself out of.

Catherine squeezed my hand in sympathy, although she didn't know the real reason behind my anxiety. She must think me nervous about the possibility of ravishment.

Catherine and her parents walked us to the door. I hugged each of them in turn and promised to see them again soon. All except Mr. Mason hugged me enthusiastically. "One other thing," I said before we left. "Has Mr. Abercrombie been here asking after me?"

"Miss Steele, there's no need," Mr. Glass said with a hard glare and shake of his head. "It'll be taken care of by the morning."

"Abercrombie?" Mr. Mason said. "No. Why?"

"It's of no consequence," Mr. Glass cut in.

"Actually, it is," I said. "He tried to have me arrested for theft."

"Good lord!" Mrs. Mason pressed her apron hem to her chin. "That's awful."

I briefly explained the event and assured them I hadn't stolen anything from him. "I just wanted you to know from me before you heard it from someone else." Although Mr. Glass had assured me everything would be taken care of, I couldn't see how. I needed to protect myself, and that meant involving the Masons.

"Of course, of course." Mr. Mason nodded excessively, which only set his jowls off like a bowl of jelly. He looked quite worried, and that had me worried.

"If Abercrombie does come here looking for you, we won't tell him where you've gone," his wife said.

I smiled at her and tried to catch her husband's eye but he wasn't looking at me. "Thank you."

Mr. Glass stored my valise at the back of the coach while I climbed inside. He climbed in after me and the coach lurched forward.

"It wasn't necessary to mention the incident with Abercrombie," he said. "I will see that he doesn't trouble you again."

"I don't see how you can do that. Perhaps if you shared how you would see to it, I might have more faith."

He plucked off his gloves, finger by finger. "I have some influence in this city."

"But you've never been here before!"

"That's irrelevant."

I clicked my tongue. It was easier to get answers from statues. "Forgive my doubt, Mr. Glass, but I find it difficult to trust someone who doesn't give satisfactory explanations."

His brow crinkled. His gaze locked with mine. "I hope that's not true, Miss Steele." His low, deep voice rumbled from his chest. "I don't want you to feel unsafe in my home."

"Oh." I waved off his concern. "That's another matter entirely."

"I know Willie, Duke and Cyclops are…different to you English folk, but you have my word that they won't harm you."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Unless you cross them."

I went very still. Did he know that I suspected him? Was he warning me not to act on my suspicions?

He smiled, and I didn't detect any falseness in it; not that I was an expert at reading people. Look at how I'd been taken in by Eddie.

We arrived back at Mr. Glass’s Mayfair home and I was glad to see that my room was ready. It was spacious and decorated in wallpaper of pink climbing roses with matching cushions on the bed. It commanded a pretty view over the street, way down below. I'd never been up so high, and looking out the window made me feel uneasy. I stepped back but kept it open for the air. The room, like many of the others, smelled stale. It would seem the house had been shut up for a long time before Mr. Glass's arrival.

Someone had laid my dress on the bed so I emptied my reticule of the buttons. I found my sewing kit in my valise, but quickly ran out of thread. With a deep breath to fortify my nerves, I left the room to go in search of Willie. I hoped she wouldn't accuse me of spying again if she came across me outside my room.

I headed down a flight of stairs to her suite, but no one answered my knock. She was probably in the kitchen, preparing the evening meal, or helping Duke. I gazed up the corridor toward Mr. Glass's door, but decided against knocking. He might be resting.

I made my way down the winding staircase to the ground floor and peeked into rooms. All empty. The kitchen was below ground level, and I finally found the door leading to the service stairs hidden in a wall near the back of the house. Voices filtered up to me, first Willie's then Mr. Glass's. I paused on the last step upon hearing Willie's stinging words.