I tugged my hand free and backed away from the bed. "You've slept a long time," I said. "I grew worried."

Matt sat up and rubbed his eyes. His hair was delightfully rumpled and his eyes, when he withdrew his hands, still sported the haze of sleep. It took a great deal of control not to reach out and envelope him in my arms.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Almost six."

"Already?" He scooted off the bed and clasped my face in his hands before I knew what was happening. He planted a kiss on my forehead. "Thank you for checking on me." He let me go and sat on the bed to put on his shoes. He seemed quite unaffected by the little kiss while my nerves sang. It was grossly unfair.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"Fine."

"Has the pain returned?"

"I feel fine, India." I heard the abruptness in his voice loud and clear. It was my cue to exit.

"I'm sorry I woke you," I said. "We're all in the sitting room."

"India, wait." He joined me at the door and we left together. "I'm sorry I snapped. I don't like to be fussed over."

"I'm concerned, Matt, not fussing. It doesn't help that you won't discuss it with me or allow me to tell the others."

"There's nothing to discuss. I had a pain in my chest, but it went away. Nothing came of it. The long rest did me good. I feel fitter than I have in some time."

I eyed him closely, trying to detect if that were a lie or not, but he noticed and broke into a grin. "Be truthful, India, you were really hoping to catch me without my shirt. That's why you barged into my room."

"I didn't barge in," I said, striding off down the corridor. "I knocked first. And I know what you're trying to do, Matt. You're trying to distract me from inquiring about your health."

Miss Glass met us on her way up the stairs and looked relieved to see Matt. "I thought I should check on you," she said. "But I see India already has."

Matt placed a hand on my lower back and steered me down the stairs alongside his aunt. "She takes good care of me," he said.

"India, can you help me with something, please?"

I silently groaned but allowed Matt to go on ahead of us.

"India, you mustn't encourage him," Miss Glass hissed. "It's not appropriate for you to enter his room alone, now that he and Patience are almost engaged."

There were a thousand things I could have said in response but I chose the most benign one. I did not want to enter into awkward discussions with her. "You're right. It was highly inappropriate. I'll only enter his room if his life is in danger, from now on."

She hooked my arm with hers. "Thank you, India. You're such a good, agreeable sort."

Sometimes I wished I wasn't.

We caught up to Matt in the sitting room where he stood reading a newspaper. From the looks on the faces of the others, I knew it contained something I wouldn't like.

"It's this week's edition of The Weekly Gazette," Duke said. "Barratt's latest article is in it."

Matt lowered the paper so I could read too. The article contained no surprises, thankfully. It was a quarter page feature, and it mostly outlined the good work magicians could do when allowed to, such as building sturdy houses, creating beautiful and functional maps, and generally being useful yet ordinary members of society. The word "ordinary" had been stressed with bold type, and Oscar had gone on to say that magicians could be a friend or neighbor but suppress their true nature to go about their daily lives undetected. If they did not, the craft guilds would refuse membership to protect non-magician members. I thought it a tempered article. He could have said the guilds persecuted magicians.

Then I reached the final paragraph. Oscar wrote that magic was fleeting, but it could be extended by combining one magician's magic with that of a timepiece magician. He'd posed it as a theory only and had not expanded on the potential. Even so, he gave away too much for my liking. Where Force's article in The City Review had merely alluded to the possibility of extending magic through the experiment on Wilson Sweet, Barratt's article had left nothing open to interpretation.

"Damn it." Matt slapped the newspaper onto a table. "Damn Barratt."

"He always pushes the boundary," Cyclops said with a shake of his head.

"It's his job," Willie said. "He wouldn't be a good reporter if he didn't stir things up."

"Nonsense," Miss Glass said, picking up the paper. "There's no reason he can't write nice, sensible things that don't ruffle feathers. I'd read it. Many people would. There's no need to cause trouble like this." She dropped the paper back onto the table. "No need at all."

Willie rolled her eyes but wisely kept her mouth shut.

"So what do we do about it?" Duke asked. "Confront him? Warn him not to do it again?"

"Ask him to write a retraction," Cyclops added.

Willie leaned forward where she sat, legs apart like a man. "It's too late. The horse has bolted. We need to stop him from writing anything more, and the only way to do that is to threaten him. Make him afraid." She tapped her chest. "Let me do it. I'm the only one with the stomach for it."

"The only one fool enough," Duke muttered.

"Willie," Miss Glass snapped. "Knees together. You're not a cowboy, as much as you dress and act like one. And no one will threaten anyone with weapons. There are non-violent methods to explore first. I propose we find out what secrets he has to hide then threaten to tell his loved ones. If we can't find anything of a salacious nature, we can always make something up. Journalists do that all the time. It's entirely justified to give him a taste of his own medicine."

Everyone stared at her. Then Willie smiled. "I like you more and more, Letty."

"Since Oscar doesn't seem to have any loved ones, there's very little we can do," I told them. "He doesn't even seem like he particularly cares for his brother. We go on as we have been and find Phineas Millroy. That's our priority. This," I indicated the newspaper. "This is not important right now."

"I beg to differ," Matt said. "Barratt may not have mentioned you, but between Force's article and this, you've been exposed as a timepiece magician with the power to extend magic. Every magician who has ever wanted their magic to last will seek you out now. Where Force's article made them wonder, Barratt's has banished all doubts."

"Not all of them. Besides, complete strangers won't know where to find me. And if they do find me, I'll simply send them on their way."

He regarded me darkly but left the matter alone. I suspected he had more to say, but I was glad he kept quiet. There was already too much tension between us, of all kinds.

Over dinner, we discussed plans to return to the convent that night. Matt refused to stay home and rest. I didn't tell anyone that I planned on going too. I would wait for Miss Glass to retire before doing so.

Lord Rycroft visited shortly after we removed ourselves from the dining room and asked to see Matt alone. He even asked his sister to leave. Matt did not protest, and he retired to the smoking room with his uncle.

I spent a restless fifteen minutes in the drawing room, waiting for Lord Rycroft to leave. When I heard movement in the entrance hall, I peered out to see. Bristow handed him his hat and coat. Matt was nowhere to be seen.

Lord Rycroft turned, catching me watching him. A satisfied smile touched his lips, sending an icy shiver down my spine. He slapped his hat on his head, sending a waft of cigar smoke my way. "Farewell, Miss Steele. I know it may not seem it right now, but I do wish you well in your future. I hope Mr. Barratt's latest article doesn't cause you too many difficulties."

I stared at the closed door for some time after he left. Farewell? Not good evening or good day? And why was he wishing me well? It sounded like he expected never to see me again.

Matt emerged from the smoking room only to stop upon seeing me. All the benefits of his long rest had disappeared, leaving him looking haggard and drawn again. His gaze slid to the front door. "What did he say to you?" he asked.

"Farewell. What did he say to you?"

He hesitated then said, "He'd seen Barratt's article in this evening's paper and wanted to know if you are a time magician. I told him it was none of his business."

That wasn't all. It couldn't be all. Lord Rycroft's smile implied he'd won a game and Matt's forlorn expression told me he'd lost. "What else did he say?"

"Nothing." He pushed past me and plucked his hat off the hat stand.

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Out where?"

"For a walk. I need some fresh air." He didn't look at me as he spoke. He seemed distracted, distant, and I knew him to be lost in thought. A thinking Matt was better than a forlorn Matt, but it still worried me. What had his uncle said to him?

"Someone should go with you. I'll fetch Cyclops—"

"I want to be alone." He left before I had a chance to protest again.

At least my worries had company.

"Why didn't you fetch us, India?" Willie wailed after I informed her and the others of Matt's movements. She paced across the drawing room floor, drew back the curtain to look through the window, then continued her pacing. "He's been gone an age."

"Thirty minutes is not an age," I said. "And I didn't fetch you because he didn't give me a chance. He wanted to be alone."

"So he could forget to use his watch!" She threw her hands in the air and continued her pacing.

"He won't forget. He doesn't forget."

"But sometimes he doesn't use it in time," Duke said. "Like when he's being attacked."

"No will attack him," Cyclops said. "Can you both shut your traps? You're frightening the ladies."

Miss Glass did look rather frightened. She sat like a small statue dressed in black lace. The last time I'd seen her so still, her mind wandered into the past where she felt safer.

"What did my rotten brother say to him?" she asked, proving she was still in the here and now.

"I don't know," I said. "But Lord Rycroft looked…triumphant."

Willie stilled. "Surely not," she whispered, her gaze boring into me. "Surely Matt didn't agree to marry Patience."

My heart plunged. I'd been thinking it too, but I hadn't allowed myself to fully explore the notion. Yet Willie must be right. What else could Lord Rycroft be triumphant about?

More importantly, why did Matt look so troubled?

"That ain't it," Duke said with a shake of his head. "Nope. Not a chance. Matt wouldn't agree to it, no matter what." He got up to pour himself a brandy at the sideboard. He drank the contents of the tumbler then refilled it.

I felt sick.

We convinced Miss Glass to retire at ten. She was half asleep on the sofa, waiting up for Matt to return. My reassurance that he would be fine soothed her enough and she took herself off, stifling her yawn.

The rest of us could not be so easily convinced. By the time the clock struck eleven, I took over pacing from Willie. My jittery nerves wouldn't allow me to sit still any longer. Something must have happened to Matt for him to be away so long. He wouldn't be so cruel as to leave us worrying for hours.

"I can't wait here all night doing nothing," Cyclops said, getting to his feet. "I'm going to look for him."

"Me too." Willie followed him out, Duke at her heels.

I refused to be left behind and asked them to wait while I fetched a coat. I was half way up the stairs when the front door opened and Matt walked in. Indeed, he didn't so much as walk in, but rather stumbled across the threshold. He righted himself before he fell and shoved his hat into Duke's chest.

"Where's Bristow?" Matt asked, frowning at Duke. "And why are you all standing here?"

"We were about to look for you." Duke thrust Matt's hat onto the hook on the hat stand as if he were a medieval warrior ramming an enemy's head onto a spike.

"No need. I'm here. Thank God India's not with you. I don't want to face her tonight."

I cleared my throat and descended the stairs.

"Oh." He plastered on a smile. "What a lovely surprise, India. It's always good to see you."

"Where have you been?" I asked, ever so casually.

Cyclops sniffed. "Drinking's my guess."

"Idiot," Willie snapped. "You know you shouldn't drink more than one, Matt."

"I can hold my liquor," Matt protested. "I'll prove it." He proceeded to walk in a straight line to the base of the staircase where I stood. He took one look at me and tucked his hands behind his back. "Hell," he said. "I was hoping you'd be in bed by now."

"And miss the joy of you walking in straight lines?"

He grunted. "Go on, then. Lecture me for being out drinking." He sighed, half closing his eyes. "I deserve it."

Part of me wanted to walk him up the stairs and tuck him into bed. But I knew now was my best chance of getting answers so I remained standing on the first step where I was the right height to look him in the eye.

"So why don't you want to face me?" I asked.

"Because I'm drunk."

"But you walked in a straight line."

"Not that drunk. Just drunk enough for you to disapprove."

"Have I said I disapprove?"

"You don't have to." His gaze lowered to my mouth and for one heart-stopping moment I thought he'd kiss me in front of the others. "I can see the disapproval on your lips."

"My lips?"

"They're pinched and hard. I'm considering how best to fix them."

One of the men cleared his throat, and Matt seemed to recall that we weren't alone. He squared his shoulders.

"Excuse me, India. I should freshen up before we go to the convent."

"I'm not sure you should come," I said.

He grunted. "Try and stop me." He took a step to the side and paused, as if he expected me to move and block his way. When he realized I was staying put, he climbed the stairs.

"Well," I said to the others after he'd vanished from sight. "I don't know about you three, but I need something to fortify my nerves before we sneak onto convent grounds. Who wants a brandy?"

---

Matt slept for an hour and I must have dozed off on the sofa because I opened my eyes to see him talking quietly to Cyclops and Duke by the fireplace. Willie sprawled in an armchair, her head tipped back and her mouth open. She snored loudly.

"Ready?" I asked the men. It was a little after midnight, the perfect time to head to the convent where the nuns kept early hours. "We need digging equipment, black clothing and something to light our way."

Matt opened his mouth.

"Do not order me to stay behind," I told him before he could speak.

"I wasn't going to. I was about to suggest you borrow some trousers from Willie but changed my mind."

"You're right to change it," I said. "Willie's smaller than me and her trousers wouldn't fit."

"That's not why I changed my mind," he said, voice husky.

I was about to ask him what he meant, but he began giving orders to Duke and Cyclops. Willie awoke and dazedly asked what we were doing.

"Going to the convent," I said. "If you hadn't woken up we would have left you behind."

"Damned lucky you didn't," she growled. "I'm as important to this mission as you are, India. Maybe more, since you can't wield a shovel on account of you being all delicate."

"Thank you, Willie, you are sweet. I've never been called delicate before."

A short time later I sat in the coach with Cyclops and Duke. Matt insisted on driving and Willie insisted on sitting beside him. I knew she wanted to be near him to keep an eye on him, and I suspected he drove so he didn't have to sit with me and risk me interrogating him about the reason for his uncle's visit.

I wasn't sure if he ought to drive so soon after admitting to being drunk, but the horses were well behaved enough that they wouldn't follow any silly orders he gave them, and Willie would be there if he nodded off. And anyway, he seemed quite sober in the few minutes we were together in the stables preparing the coach. He did an excellent job of avoiding me and seemed in control of the situation and himself. The others obeyed his commands when he gave them and didn't seem in the least concerned that he wanted to drive.

We'd brought the stable boy with us and he remained with the horses and coach one street back from the convent. It was a middle class area so he shouldn't be troubled. Even so, Matt told him to whistle if he needed us.

We each carried a shovel, pick or small trowel to the convent gate, only to find it locked. I swore under my breath, earning a wide-eyed stare from Willie.

"Wash your mouth out, India," she hissed. "This here's a house of God."

"Sorry," I muttered. "I'm having a bad day."

Matt used a pair of slender metal tools to unlock the gate. He held it open for each of us to slip through. While the others walked ahead, I remained behind with Matt as he shut the gate.

"What did your uncle want?" I asked, tackling the question that had been on my mind head-on. I could no longer avoid it, it occupied my entire waking moments, and so it simply blurted out.

"Don't ask me that, India," he said, his voice a low rumble.

I wished it wasn't so dark so I could see his face. But the moon hid behind clouds and we'd shuttered our lanterns. "It was about you marrying Patience, wasn't it?"

He quickened his pace.

"He found a way to convince you to do it, didn't he?"

The silence was so profound it was a tangible thing. It blanketed us as we followed the others to the rear of the convent. "I'll find a way out," he finally said.

My pace slowed. My heart plunged to my stomach, leaving a hole in my chest. I hadn't expected to feel so empty upon hearing him admit it. Then again, I hadn't truly expected him to tell me his uncle was forcing his hand and that he had gone along with it.

Matt stopped when he realized I'd fallen behind. He slung the pick over his shoulder and held out his free hand to me. I took it without a word and together we headed past the convent outbuildings for the small copse of trees that Father Antonio had referred to as woods.

I glanced back at the hulking form of the convent with its chimneys reaching into the inky sky from the razor sharp spine of its roofline. No lights shone, and the dark windows reflected nothing. Yet I felt like we were being watched. I tightened my grip on Matt's hand and passed through the thicket into the trees.

It was even darker in the woods but a dim light dancing between branches ahead gave me something to aim for. We soon caught up to Willie, Duke and Cyclops in a clearing barely large enough for all of us to stand in.

Duke leaned on his shovel, the lamp at his feet. "What about here?" he whispered.

Willie didn't wait for an answer. She thrust her shovel into the bed of leaves and began to dig.

"It's as good a place as any," Matt said, swinging his pick into the ground.

I knelt at the clearing's edge and cleared away the decaying matt of leaves then pushed the gardening trowel into the soft earth. After what I gauged to be thirty minutes, an ache settled into my hand yet I'd made little progress. I looked up, expecting to see much more progress from the others, but despite a few strategically placed holes, they had covered very little ground.

We worked silently for an hour more before Willie flopped onto the ground with a sigh. She leaned back against a tree and stretched out her legs. "My back is broken," she moaned.

"I'd offer to massage it if my shoulder didn't feel like a knife were stabbing it," Duke said, carefully lowering himself to sit next to her.

Cyclops and Matt worked a little longer before Matt declared the task complete. "Unless the box was buried very deep, it's not in this clearing."

"Let's try somewhere else," Cyclops said.

Matt wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "We'll rest here for a little first. India, are you all right? You're rubbing your hand."

"I'm fine," I said, getting to my feet. "Which direction shall we head in?"

We decided to check the extent of the woods before choosing our next location. The woods were bigger than I first thought. Although not wide, the copse of trees stretched deep into the property.

Despite the size, we did not come across another clearing as large as the first. Certainly nothing large enough for all of us to dig without hitting one another with shovels. We had to split up, yet we only had one lamp.

"We'll take it in turns," Matt said. "We each dig in short stints, that way we won't get as tired."

"Except for India," Willie said. "On account of her being delicate."

"Do stop saying that, Willie," I said on a sigh. "I can wield a shovel as easily as you can."

She handed me her shovel. "Go on then."

Digging holes with shovels was more difficult than it looked, and I struggled to make a good dent in the ground. Willie leaned against a tree, her arms crossed, and made scoffing noises at every pathetic pile of soil I dug up. Eventually she gave up and took the shovel off me.

For a small figure, she was surprisingly strong, and the hole I'd begun grew larger quite quickly. I felt useless and slunk to the shadowy edge of the lamplight. As I watched the others take turns, my uselessness became hopelessness. We wouldn't find the box. Father Antonio had seen someone walk into the woods with it years ago. The person who did so could have retrieved it the following night, or any other night in the last twenty-seven years. Even if they'd left it, we could spend every night for the next month and we wouldn't cover every inch of the woods. Then there was the very real possibility that the box contained no evidence relating to the disappearances of the Mother Alfreda or the babies. We were clutching at straws, and those straws were small indeed.

I sat on a fallen log and blinked back my tears. Despite the cool air, I felt warm from the exercise of digging, but over the next few minutes, the warmth began to fade. That is, it faded in all parts of my body except for a small section of my chest. The section beneath my watch. I wore it on a chain as a necklace, knowing I would not carry my reticule tonight, but wanting to have the watch close.

I fished it out from where it nestled against my skin beneath my clothing, and removed my glove. The watch was definitely warm, and not from my own body heat. It was magical warmth.

"India, what are you doing?" Matt asked.

"My watch is warm."

He suddenly straightened and took up the pick as if it were a weapon. He scrutinized the edge of the small clearing. "Stop digging," he hissed at Willie.

"Someone there?" Duke whispered.

"The watch could be warning India of imminent danger," Matt whispered back without taking his gaze from the shadows.

"I don't think it's a warning," I said. "It chimes when there is danger."

Matt did not lower the pick, but I could see his shoulders relax a little.

Cyclops sat on the log beside me. "What do you think it means then?"

"I think it's responding to other magic."

"It can feel magic heat like you can feel it?"

I placed my palm on the log. Nothing. No magic warmth, just rough bark and a clump of damp moss. I leaned down and touched the leaf litter.

There. I felt it. A small wave of heat pulsed through me, faint but definite.

"India?" Cyclops murmured.

Matt crouched before me. "Can you feel magic heat?"

"Very faintly." I met his gaze and smiled, not quite believing what I could feel. Not really grasping the significance of it. But I did know it was important. It had to be. Our mystery was tied up with magic and magic had been performed in this area.

No. Not performed. If someone had stood here and infused magic into whatever they held, the magic would leave with that item. So the item itself was still here, buried in the ground. The spell could have been spoken anywhere.

"Whatever was in that box has had magic performed on it," I told them. "And it's buried somewhere nearby. Not in this spot," I said when Willie went to thrust her shovel into the ground near my feet. "It's too faint to be right here."

I got down on my knees and pressed both hands to the earth. I felt outward from the warm spot, changing direction whenever the dirt and leaf matter cooled. I crawled along the warm trail, my excitement growing as the warmth increased. My senses heightened, tuning in to the earth beneath me. Something small rustled near my fingers then scurried off. An insect buzzed near my ear before flying to a nearby bush where it rested, watching me. Behind me was utter silence.

The warmth intensified then, no matter which direction I advanced, it weakened. I sat back on my haunches. "Here," I said, tapping the ground. "Dig here."

Willie pushed in her shovel. Cyclops joined her. Duke had got hold of my gardening trowel and dug out small clumps of dirt. Matt crouched beside me and together we watched on.

Thud. Cyclops's shovel hit something hard. Cyclops and Willie cast aside their shovels and joined us on their knees. We used our hands to dig out the earth while Duke used the trowel.

Slowly the box revealed itself. The more of it we exposed, the more intense the heat became. It shocked me at first, so fierce was it, and I stopped digging. I'd felt magic heat before, but never that strong. My fingers tingled as if a little burned and I wasn't sure I wanted to touch the box again. It reminded me of when Chronos had first touched a clock I'd worked on. He'd been surprised by the heat and retracted his hand quickly.

"Whatever magic is inside that box is strong," I told them. "I think the magician who put it there must have been powerful."

"Something made of silk," Matt said between breaths, "from Abigail Pilcher."

It took some time to dig around the box's sides before it could be wrenched free from its grave. Cyclops hauled it out and placed the box near me. It was indeed approximately two feet by two, as Father Antonio had told us, and made of wood. It was in good condition, considering it had been in the ground as long as it had. Even so, the contents might be damaged from time and moisture.

"It's not locked," Duke said, trying to lift the lid. "But I can't open it. The hinges have rusted."

"Let me try." Cyclops's fingers were like rods of iron but it took him several attempts to pry the lid open. The hinge complained but eventually gave way, and Cyclops pushed the lid back as far as it would go.

Inside were some papers, a little aged but not terribly. Matt pulled them out.

"No silk," I said, peering into the now empty box. "How strange."

But no one heard me. They crowded around Matt. Willie held the lamp so they could read. She gasped.

"What is it?" I asked, trying to peer at the paper. "A letter?"

"Records," Matt said, his voice hoarse. "From the convent. Two sets. One is about Phineas Millroy's arrival here and who brought him. The second references a different baby."

He handed one of the papers to me and I scanned the tight, neat scrawl. The brief account listed Phineas's name at the top, his date of birth and the date of his arrival. A woman's name was listed as bringing him to the convent. I didn't recognize it and wondered if it was Lady Buckland's name, without the title. She was noted as being a friend to the baby's mother. There was no information about who adopted him.

"Who's the other record for?" I asked, indicating the second sheet of paper.

"James John Smith," Matt said. "His date of birth, date of arrival, and who brought him in. That's it."

Willie snatched the papers off him and read through them. She turned the pages over several times, held them to the light, and eventually threw them into the box in disgust.

"God damned waste of time," she said, forgetting her rule of not swearing on holy land.

Duke pushed to his feet and threw the trowel at a tree trunk.

"Not necessarily," Matt said. "India felt magic, so we know Abigail Pilcher infused some silk with magic then perhaps placed those silks inside the box. She probably kept scraps in it and took them out, replacing them with these records. What happened to the magical silk is irrelevant. What is relevant is that this box was either in her possession or contained something precious to her. I'd wager she placed these records in there and buried the box."

"She lied to you," Willie said. "She goddamn lied when she told you she don't know what happened to Phineas."

"No. You're wrong." I pointed at the box, not willing to touch it yet. "The magic I felt did not come from something no longer inside. It came from the box itself. It's excellently made and water tight too. These papers are in good condition."

I was met with four frowns. "You mean," Matt said slowly, "that box was made by a magician."

I nodded. "One that infused their magic into the wood. The same magician who caused the wooden cross to fall off the wall and nearly crush me."