The Watchmaker's Daughter (Glass and Steele #1)(38)

Fortunately, Lord Rycroft entered at that moment too. Mr. Glass stood straighter, and Miss Glass shrank into the sofa, as if she were trying to make herself invisible. He didn't see her, however. He only had eyes for his nephew.

Lord Rycroft was a less appealing version of Mr. Glass, and it wasn't simply the age difference that accounted for it. The older man did sport some gray through his thick black hair, but that was his only distinguishing feature. He was shorter yet just as broad in chest and shoulder, which made him stocky. He may once have had the sharply angular cheeks of Mr. Glass but it was impossible to tell beneath the layers of sagging fat. Muddy eyes took in every inch of his nephew, slowly, as if measuring him against the memory of his dead brother and perhaps against himself. Lord Rycroft's stature straightened with every passing moment, and his chest expanded. I pressed my lips together to stop myself smiling at his attempts to make himself more impressive. He ought not bother. Mr. Glass wasn't easily matched by anyone, let alone a short, fat man twice his age.

"Good afternoon, Uncle," Mr. Glass said, holding out his hand.

Lord Rycroft ignored it. "What brings you to London?" He had a ropey voice, as if it struggled to travel through his thick throat.

Mr. Glass pulled back his hand. "I'm looking for someone. It's a private matter."

"How long are you staying?"

"Until Tuesday."

"See that you don't stay longer."

Mr. Glass's eyes narrowed. "I'll stay as long as I like."

"Let me make myself clear, you are not welcome here. Your father chose to leave his family, his home and responsibilities, and run away. He then disgraced us further by marrying a foreign girl of ill-repute." He poked a thick finger at Mr. Glass's chest. "And you are the embodiment of that disgrace. We want nothing to do with you."

Mr. Glass's face darkened. His eyes turned the color of pitch. My blood chilled as Mr. Glass went very still. I suddenly felt afraid for Lord Rycroft.

"I know who your mother's family are and what they've done," he went on, oblivious to the fuse he'd set alight. "My investigators sent me newspaper clippings and reports of their crimes."

Crimes! My gasp echoed in the ensuing silence. I was the only one who showed surprise, however. Mr. Glass swallowed but did not take his gaze off his uncle. Nor did he deny the accusation. So it was true.

I pressed my hand to my rolling stomach. It wasn't until that moment that I realized the stupidity of what I'd done. I was living with a criminal. I'd never quite believed that Mr. Glass was the Dark Rider—until now.

"Let's be clear," Lord Rycroft went on, "the estate cannot be handed over to the likes of you. It must be against the law, somehow, or what's the good of laws in the first place? I have my lawyers working on it. "

The hard planes of Mr. Glass's face slackened. He blinked. "Hand over? I am your heir? But you have three daughters."

"Of course you're the heir. Stupid as well, I see."

"It's true," Miss Glass chimed in quickly. "The estate is entailed, Matthew. None of your female cousins will get their greedy little hands on it because you are the sole male heir, and males inherit." At his continuing stunned look, she added, "Didn't Harry tell you?"

"No," he murmured.

Lady Rycroft sniffed into a handkerchief. "The thought of my dear girls being tossed out of their home! It breaks my heart."

I willed Mr. Glass to speak, but he didn't. He glanced at me, then quickly down at the floor, off to the side, everywhere but the faces watching him. I twisted my fingers tighter in my lap.

Lord Rycroft's grunt filled the room. "You're not welcome here. Good day." He turned to go. "Letitia, to your room. You're forbidden to leave for a week. Go!" he shouted when she didn't move.

Both she and Lady Rycroft flinched. Then she lifted her chin. "I wish to stay with Matthew."

"Go. To. Your. Room!" Lord Rycroft roared. His face blotched, his mouth frothed. "I will not tolerate any more of your mad ramblings and wanderings! Christ, woman, you're the bane of my existence."

Miss Glass's eyes filled with tears, but she continued to hold her chin high, even though it wobbled. "I wish to live with Matthew."

"I'm not staying in London," Mr. Glass said automatically.

But his aunt didn't seem to hear him. "I refuse to sleep here another night."

"I'll have you taken to the asylum if you continue to defy me!" Lord Rycroft shouted. "You're a mad old bat, and the sight of you sickens me. It's no wonder Harry left you behind. He couldn't stand your company either!"

Finally Miss Glass's face crumpled and her tears spilled. The proud dame seemed to age ten years as her shoulders stooped and trembled with silent crying. I went to her and took her hand in mine. She rallied a little and stopped crying.

Lord Rycroft looked at me as if he'd only just noticed me. I lifted my chin as I'd seen Miss Glass do, daring him to throw me out. "Take your doxy with you, Glass, and leave."

"I'm not a doxy, and you are certainly not a gentleman." I didn't know what I was saying. Perhaps I was afflicted with madness too. I just knew I couldn't leave Miss Glass with this bully. "I'm not leaving without Miss Glass."