The Watchmaker's Daughter (Glass and Steele #1)(70)

"Your friends and Willie will be disappointed."

"They don't have to stay."

"Disappointed to leave you behind, I mean. They're very fond of you."

"And I them."

"If you stay, you will require my assistance." It wasn't a question, for I knew the answer before he spoke.

He nodded. "I would like you to help me. Would you, on the same terms?"

My gaze slid to the window. "I don't know. I…I don't know what to think anymore. About anything."

He leaned forward and rested his hand on mine. It was probably meant to be a reassuring gesture, but it made my heart skip to a more erratic beat. "I'm sorry I'm not the easiest of men at times."

I blinked at him. He did not remove his hand, nor did I want him to. "You have nothing to apologize for." Not to me. He'd been the perfect gentleman at all times. Hot tears rushed to my eyes and I had to once again look out the window so he couldn't see.

His thumb stroked mine, gentle and insistent. My breath hitched at the intimacy of it. I shouldn't want him to touch me like that. Not this…outlaw, this addict. But I couldn't bring myself to tell him to stop. I simply sat there and allowed him to do it.

"India," he said, his voice low and rough. "May I call you that?"

I nodded.

He let me go, but only to touch my chin and gently force me to look at him. "Then you must call me Matt or Matthew from now on."

I nodded again.

"I know we're not friends," he said. "Not really. But…I feel a connection to you, and I hope you feel the same with me."

I sucked on the inside of my cheek. I nodded again, unable to speak, and not daring to disagree. Not wanting to.

"Good. Then…I need to say something to you." He let my chin go and rested his hand on his knee. His lowered his head and shook it slightly. After a moment, he looked up. "Why is a remarkable woman like you not married?"

That wasn't what he wanted to say. For starters, it had been a question and yet he'd said he wanted to say something to me. So what had been on his mind? Was he going to tell me a magical watch was keeping him alive? That he was addicted to opium? Or that he was an outlaw?

The carriage slowed and he leaned back. He wasn't even interested in my answer.

The first watchmaker on the list was a Mr. Ingham, a short, round man with a bald head and a pair of spectacles perched on the end of his nose. He took one look at me and inched away from the counter. I stood to one side as Mr. Glass—Matt—spoke to him about Chronos.

As Mr. Ingham told him he didn't know anyone fitting that description, my gaze fell on the newspaper spread out on the counter nearby. The main article was about the Dark Rider again; the police believed he was here in London, based on information received from their American counterparts.

As Matt turned to go, Mr. Ingham glanced at me then down at the paper and up at me again. He scooped it up. "Good day, Miss Steele."

"Good day, Mr. Ingham," I said and followed Matt out of the shop.

We accomplished a great deal, visiting many shops and only stopping for a quick bite to eat and for Matt to use his watch while I powdered my nose in a Wandsworth inn. We did not have any luck, however, and headed back to Mayfair in a thoughtfully grim mood.

"That's all the watchmakers I know in the city," I said. "There are others, of course, but I've never met them. Even if you do remain in London to continue your search, you don't require my services anymore. I can't help you."

He'd closed his eyes upon settling in the carriage, and now he raised his eyelids slowly, half way. The effect lent him a lazy, dissolute air. "I beg to differ. You're familiar with London. I'll need a guide."

"Cyclops knows where we haven't been. He can drive you without my guidance."

He closed his eyes again and I thought he'd fallen asleep, when his eyes suddenly reopened. He grinned. It was so unexpected that I couldn't help smiling back at seeing the change in him. "I've got it! You can be my aunt's companion."

"Me? A lady's companion?" I snorted. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Why not? You're honest." He held up a finger. "Easy to get along with." Another finger rose. "Kind." He lifted a third. "And my aunt likes you. There. It's settled. You'll live with her."

"Where? At your house, or is she moving back to Lord Rycroft's after you've gone?"

He rubbed his forehead. "It looks like I'll be staying. I want you both to live with me."

I didn't say anything, and he didn't seem to require an answer. He closed his eyes again and tipped his head back. After a moment, his head tilted to the side and his breathing became even. He'd fallen asleep.

I had to shake him awake when we arrived back at the house. He didn't look at all refreshed; rather, he looked wearier than ever.

"Why didn't you use your watch again?" I asked before I realized that I'd just told him I knew what he used it for.

He eyed me closely and my heart stopped. I swallowed. Would he hate me for knowing about his addiction?

He didn't answer me, but got out and unfolded the step for me. I took his offered hand and climbed down. He did not let me go when my feet hit the pavement but tightened his grip.