The Watchmaker's Daughter (Glass and Steele #1)(37)

I stepped back inside, but he caught my chin. I was so shocked that I lifted my gaze to his. He seemed equally shocked by his action and quickly let me go. He tucked his hands behind his back.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I shouldn't have said anything. Come with us, Miss Steele. Hopefully you'll prove me wrong." He offered me a smile and his elbow.

I took it and descended the steps. He helped Miss Glass into the coach, and then me, and climbed in after us. I still felt a little bruised by his lack of confidence in my employability, but he had offered me an olive branch and it would be rude of me not to accept it.

"How does one gain experience as a governess in the first place if one doesn't have experience?" I said to no one in particular.

"It's not your lack of experience that will hold you back, Miss Steele," Miss Glass said. "It's your pretty face, lovely figure, and your forthright manner."

Mr. Glass turned to look out the window, as if he hadn't heard a thing his aunt said when she was sitting right beside him. I was too stunned to say anything.

"I'm sorry to dash your hopes," Miss Glass went on, "but you needed to be told. We women can sometimes be unfair to each other, and it would take a kind-hearted woman, sure of her own appeal and the love of her husband, to take you on in such an elevated position. Perhaps as a maid, but not a governess. Believe me, none of Beatrice's circle fit that description. A gaggle of preening geese, the lot of them."

"Thank you, Miss Glass," I said, unable to think of anything else. She had given me a compliment, and my mother had always told me to be gracious, even when the compliment was unintended or made from politeness.

"So you ought to thank me," she said with a smug curve of her lips. "The daughters of Beatrice's friends are all as awful as their mothers. Trying to educate them will send any sane woman to the madhouse."

I smiled, but there was no humor in it. My hopes of working as a governess had almost disappeared entirely. I shouldn't have come. I should have stayed home to find evidence linking Mr. Glass to the outlaw in the papers. The reward money was looking more and more appealing.

Lord Rycroft's house faced Belgrave Square. It was not unlike Mr. Glass's Mayfair house, in that it was tall and part of a series of townhouses that stretched from one end of the street to the other. Miss Glass informed us on the short journey that the Rycroft estate in the countryside was somewhat neglected, since Beatrice preferred the city and all the social opportunities London offered.

"Your father would be disappointed," she said, eyeing her nephew. "He loved Rycroft. I always thought it a shame he wasn't the oldest son. He appreciated it more."

"Yet he would have hated the responsibility," Mr. Glass said coolly. "And resented having to remain in the same place for long."

Miss Glass sighed. "Very true."

Stiff-backed footmen greeted us with blank stares. They performed their duties of door-opening and hat-taking with mechanical formality. I wanted to pinch one to see if he reacted.

"Finally," Lady Rycroft said with a pointed glance at the gilt and jet clock on the mantel in the drawing room. It was fifteen minutes fast. I wondered if she knew. "I've had to postpone my afternoon engagements to wait for you, Letitia."

"You didn't need to wait," Miss Glass said, taking a seat and indicating that I should too. I did and checked the time on the watch I'd tucked into my waistcoat pocket. The mantel one was definitely fifteen minutes ahead.

"Richard wouldn't allow me to leave until you returned," Lady Rycroft said. "He's punishing me for your little morning escapade."

"Is he here?" Mr. Glass cut in, taking up a position by the white marble mantel, his elbow near the clock. I tore my gaze away from the timepiece, only to find it kept wandering back.

"One of the footmen is notifying him of your presence."

The conversation stalled as we all waited for Lord Rycroft's entrance. I clasped my hands in my lap, twisting my fingers around one another, but it was impossible. The clock called me as loudly as any trumpet.

"Forgive me, Lady Rycroft, but have you noticed that your clock is fast?"

Mr. Glass and Miss Glass looked at the clock. Lady Rycroft looked at me.

"Who are you, and why are you here?" she asked, as if seeing me for the first time.

"My name is India Steele."

Before I could go on, Mr. Glass spoke. "Miss Steele is my assistant."

Lady Rycroft's eyebrows almost disappeared into her turban. Her face flushed and she picked up a fan from the table and fanned herself.

"I'm helping him search for someone," I said quickly with a glare at Mr. Glass. He wasn't smiling but somehow he managed to look amused. "After his return to America, I'll be in need of other work. If you know of anyone requiring a governess, then I would appreciate it if you could pass on my details. I have an excellent grasp of most subjects, particularly mathematics and engineering." At her look of horror, I added, "And the gentler arts, too, of course. I can be found at Mr. Glass's residence in Mayfair for a few days more."

Her gaze fell to my chest then lifted to my face. The grooves drooping from her mouth deepened. "Nobody I know needs a governess at present."

My hopes fell, although they weren't as dashed as they would have been if Miss Glass hadn't forewarned me in the carriage. I thanked Lady Rycroft and willed my face to not turn red as I felt Mr. and Miss Glass watching me.