The Watchmaker's Daughter (Glass and Steele #1)(54)

"Why are you being so nice to her?" Duke said once she'd gone. "After your ranting and raving for the last hour, I thought you'd be sending her to her room for a week."

"I have no authority to send her anywhere," Mr. Glass said. "She can do as she pleases. Besides, she's suffered enough tonight. She lost her locket."

"Hell." Duke's tapped his head back and shook it at the ceiling. "She'll want to win it back."

"I made her promise not to try."

"You think that'll stop her?"

"She's never broken a promise to me before."

Duke sighed. "You have more faith in her than I do."

"Therein lies your problem, Duke."

Duke grunted. "I'll wager you had quite a dull night, Miss Steele. Willie's not good company when she's got the gambling fever."

"Dull is certainly not a word I would use to describe our evening. It was anything but."

"Care to explain why Willie's Colt was under the table?" Mr. Glass asked. "And why you were both fleeing when I met you?"

"Fleeing?" Duke echoed.

"I also heard a thud," Mr. Glass said.

"That was the sound of Lord Dennison falling to the floor," I said.

Mr. Glass raised his brows. Duke gawped. "Why'd he hit the floor?" Duke asked.

"A clock hit him in the head."

Mr. Glass and Duke exchanged mysterious glances. "How?" Mr. Glass pressed.

"I threw it."

"Why?"

"He was paying me some unwanted attention. I suspect he was also drunk."

"Bloody hell." Mr. Glass searched my face, his eyes sharper than they'd been since entering the house. "Miss Steele, tell me honestly. Are you unharmed?"

"I am."

He blew out a measured breath then shot a glare up the staircase in the direction Willie had gone.

"Don't blame her," I said. "It's not her fault. The blame rests entirely on the shoulders of Lord Dennison and his friend. They're not gentlemen at all. I've known vagrants with better manners."

Mr. Glass bowed his head but not before he closed his eyes. He really ought to be in bed, or using his special watch. Perhaps both.

"Let's return to the clock," Duke said with earnest. "So you threw it and it hit that fellow?"

"Yes."

"Did it feel…odd to you?"

"In what way?"

"Did it sort of…fly of its own accord?"

"No." I laughed. "I threw it."

"Did it feel warm to touch? Did it glow?"

"That's enough, Duke," Mr. Glass said. "Miss Steele is tired and your questions are confusing her."

"But—"

Mr. Glass laid a hand on Duke's arm. They exchanged no words, but an understanding seemed to pass between them.

Duke sighed. "Goodnight, Miss Steele."

I watched him go, trying to fathom what he meant by his questions, and how he'd known the clock had felt warm. Was it special, like Mr. Glass's watch? If so, how and why? What metal had the watchmaker used? I'd never seen the likes of it.

Mr. Glass seemed determined that I not be given any answers to my questions. That only made me more curious. They were all hiding a secret. If it didn't have anything to do with timepieces, I probably wouldn't have cared so much, but since a watch was involved, and now a clock, I wanted to know quite badly. But I would get nothing from him.

"Do you require hot chocolate?" Mr. Glass's rich, melodic voice rumbled across the space between us.

"No, thank you. I'm all right."

His searching gaze studied every inch of my face. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. Something Duke had said occurred to me. "Why were you ranting and raving earlier?"

Several heartbeats passed before he responded. "Because you didn't return."

"But Willie says she's been out later than this and you've never worried so much."

"Willie dresses like a man and acts like a man. That keeps her safe. You, however, cannot hide your womanliness. Or your vulnerability. Is it so terrible that I was worried about you?"

My heart skipped to a mad tune in my chest. It was deeply satisfying to know he'd been concerned for my wellbeing, and yet it didn't quite make sense. We hardly knew one another. Perhaps he was presenting a fa?ade again, but for what end, I couldn't fathom.

I began unbuttoning my coat, only to freeze when Mr. Glass slipped in behind me. His fingers brushed my neck above my collar and settled on my shoulders. He did not remove my coat but bent his head to mine.

"You haven't answered me," he murmured.

"I…I…" What was his question again?

"Cat got your tongue, Miss Steele?" His breath fanned my hair at the nape of my neck. If I leaned back, just a little, would he move away? Or would he allow me to rest against his chest?

"I can assure you I won't be gambling again," I said, my voice breathy.

He drew the coat off my shoulders and down my arms, slowly. "Good." His voice vibrated through my body. "I'm glad to hear it."

"Why?" I simply had to know or be eaten up with curiosity. If he was only pretending to flirt with me, I wanted to catch him out. I didn't want to be made a fool of again. "What does it matter to you?"