"Silk is a natural fiber," I told Matt as we drove home. "But working it is where the magic comes into play."

"Like gold and wood," he added with a nod. "Abigail must be a magician. I'm convinced of it. Her son must be too. That's why he was good in the silk hat department at Christy's but not the other areas. He had an affinity for it."

"We should be looking at factories that work with silk to find him."

"He could be in a shop, not a factory. Any draper or dressmaker would do. And there must be a thousand of those scattered through the city."

"Not so many high-end ones, and silk is definitely high-end."

My reasoning seemed to rally him a little. "Does London have a silk trade?"

"Spitalfields used to be full of pure silk weavers, but the trade has suffered in recent times, and I don't think there are many left. They used to work from their homes for manufacturers that required silk for their goods, rather like Abigail did for Christy's. That's all I know of the business."

"Then it seems more likely we'll find Abigail's son working for one of those manufacturers rather than as a weaver. Ready-made gowns, hats, undergarments…can you think of anything else that requires silk?"

"Silk flowers, waistcoat lining…" I absently stroked my thumb along the padded fabric covering the door as I thought—the silk covering. "Coach interiors."

I pulled out a notepad and pencil from my reticule and jotted down all the trades we could think of that required silk, but I didn't know where to begin looking for the factories that produced them. Many wouldn't even be made in London these days. Bristow might know.

We told the others of our discovery when we returned home. While Duke and Cyclops considered it a significant finding, Willie wasn't so sure. "Why does it matter that Abigail Pilcher is a magician?" she grumbled. "It don't mean she'll know what happened to Phineas Millroy."

"Or it may mean she sensed magic in the baby and knew he had to be cared for by people with a knowledge of magic," Matt countered. "She could have squirreled him out of the convent."

"It's worth finding her and asking," I said.

"S'pose," Willie grumbled into her chest.

"She's been like this all morning," Duke whispered to me. "Best to leave her alone or she'll bite your head off for talking."

Willie glared at him, as if she knew what he was saying even though she couldn't have heard from the other side of the drawing room.

"What did Father Antonio have to say about Miss Pilcher?" Cyclops asked. "Did he know who the father of the baby was?"

"I suspect so," I said with a glance at Matt. I didn't want to upset Cyclops with my suspicions. He was already disappointed to learn that the priest had lied to the police.

"He didn't say it, but I think he's the father," Matt said, obviously devoid of the same qualms. "What do you think, India?"

"I tend to agree. I am sorry, Cyclops, but Father Antonio shouldn't be held up as a fine example of the priesthood."

Cyclops shook his head and sighed.

"To be fair," I added, "I believe he may have cared for Abigail. He seemed sad when he spoke of her."

"It was as if he'd lost something," Matt said. "I felt a little sorry for him. The life of a priest can't be all that easy for a man such as him."

"You mean one with urges?" Willie asked.

"I was thinking along the lines of a man in love. Urges seems appropriate too."

We fell to discussing our next course of action, and with Bristow's help, I noted down several London manufacturers that worked with silk. It felt immensely satisfying to have a course of action and the rest of our day planned.

A plan that couldn't be put into immediate action, thanks to the arrival of Lord Rycroft. At least his wife wasn't with him. Somehow she managed to turn every discussion into an argument, particularly with Miss Glass. Lord Rycroft insisted on speaking to Matt and Miss Glass alone, and I was happy to go for a stroll with Willie to Hyde Park.

Willie, however, was not much of a stroller. "Walking's for getting places when a horse ain't available," she said as we entered the park. "And for folk with nothing better to do."

"We're folk with nothing better to do at the moment," I said, slipping my arm through hers. "Or are you going to tell me you have an invitation to be elsewhere?"

She eyed our linked arms as if it were a chain to keep her from running away. "Not today."

"That letter wasn't an invitation to meet a friend?" I attempted innocence but failed miserably if her withering glare was an indication.

"You saw that?"

"It's not the first message you've received in the last day or so. Are they from your lover?"

She lifted her chin. "I ain't saying."

I stopped and took her hands, forcing her to stop too. She didn't meet my gaze. "Willie, why won't you share your secret with me? Or if not me, then someone else? We care about you, and you're clearly unhappy at the moment. Perhaps I can help."

"You can't." She pulled away and stalked off along the path, bypassing a nanny pushing a perambulator and almost getting in the way of a rider on horseback.

I picked up my skirts and had to trot to keep up. "Very well, I respect your wish for privacy."

I let the matter drop. I let all matters drop. I didn't start another conversation and she didn't attempt to, either. After five minutes that felt like thirty, she still hadn't given in, and I found she'd steered us back to Park Lane. Another five minutes later we were home again, the briefest and most awkward stroll having ended.

Thankfully, Lord Rycroft had already left. "He wouldn't even sit down," Miss Glass said as I joined her and Matt in the drawing room.

It wasn't my place to ask what he wanted but I was terribly curious. I suspected Matt would have told me in private, away from his aunt, but Willie couldn't wait. "So what did he want this time?"

"He insisted I go with Beatrice and the girls to the estate," Miss Glass said. "It was my last chance, he told me. Overbearing, insufferable ogre. He always has been, even before our father died. It's no wonder your father left, Matthew. No wonder at all. I should have gone with Harry, like he asked me to. I could be married to an Italian count by now."

Matt sat beside her and sandwiched her hand between both of his. "You wouldn't want to live in Italy, Aunt. It's far too hot in summer."

She smiled at him but there was no joy in it.

"Don't wish yourself married, Letty," Willie said, lounging against the window frame. "It ain't always a good state for a girl to get herself into. She's got to choose the right husband, and there ain't a lot of men out there like Matt. Many of 'em are just hogs dressed in trousers."

"Poor Willie." Miss Glass rose and clasped Willie by the elbows. Eyes, wide, Willie swayed back until the window pane got in the way. "You haven't been exposed to many gentlemen so it's no wonder you have that attitude."

"I've been exposed to plenty of gen'lemen in my time, and they're just as bad, sometimes worse. They're just hogs in finer clothes. You're better off here, Letty, with Matt and India and the rest of us. You can do all the strolling and visiting you want. Ain't that a peach?"

Miss Glass kissed her cheek. "It certainly is. Thank you, dear Willemina."

Willie watched her leave with a puzzled expression. "She's lost her marbles again. She called me dear."

"That's definitely a sign of madness," Matt agreed then grinned when his cousin glared at him.

"What did you say to your uncle?" I asked Matt.

"I didn't say anything. Aunt Letitia did all the talking. She told him she'd make a very public scene if he forced her to go with Aunt Beatrice and the girls." One corner of his mouth lifted. "She raised her voice and everything. He decided not to test her."

"Why did he come back and try her again? I thought he'd accepted her decision the other day."

"I…I couldn't say."

I cocked my head to the side. "Matt? What aren't you telling me?"

Willie shook a finger at him. "Don't you keep secrets from us, Matthew Glass. I ain't asking you where you went this morning because a man has a right to his privacy, but you got to answer India now. This concerns all of us, don't it?"

"Not all." Matt cleared his throat and finally met my gaze. "He'd read The City Review."

I'd suspected as much but felt no victory in being correct. I plopped down on a chair. "And he connected my name with the Gideon Steele involved in the death of Wilson Sweet. He didn't want Miss Glass associating with me."

"Can't imagine he wants any of his family associating with you," Willie added. "Sorry, India, but you know it."

"I do."

Matt crouched before me and rested his hands on my knees. The gesture was far too intimate, yet I didn't shift away. "Don't worry about my uncle and aunt. I don't care what they think, and nor does Letitia."

"Are you sure she doesn't?" As far as Miss Glass was concerned, I wasn't good enough for her nephew. While that had nothing to do with my magic—and everything to do with my lowly status—I thought she might use the opportunity to remind Matt how unsuitable I was for him.

"Quite sure," he said gently. "You should have heard her defend you. She told my uncle that you possessed more ladylike qualities than his daughters, and she'd rather have you as a companion than anyone else. She adores you, India, and admires you greatly."

Yet that apparently wasn't enough. Nothing I did ever would be.

---

The five of us split up to conduct our search of silk manufacturers, weavers, and any shops we could think of that traded in bolts of silk. We had to disregard sellers of products made from silk, however. There were simply too many hatters, tailors and dressmakers in the city.

I wasn't too keen to be separated from Matt. What if something happened to him and he couldn't use his watch? Who would know to place it in his hand if he fell unconscious? He gave me no choice, however, as he got out of the carriage at the area allotted to him and ordered the coachman to drive on with me inside. We were away the moment the door closed.

The section of the city assigned to me was one I knew well. I'd lived in St. Martin's Lane, near Covent Garden, my entire life, and it was there that my search began. After the coachman deposited me outside the shop that had been mine, then Eddie's, and was almost mine again, I traversed the neighboring streets on foot. Being familiar with the shops and workshops, I was able to target specific streets and not venture down others. Even so, it took me all afternoon to cover my zone, since it contained the main shopping precincts south of Oxford Street.

I returned to Park Street without a shred of information, however. All I had to show for my efforts were sore feet and sweat-soaked underthings. Not a single shopkeeper had heard of Abigail Pilcher or her son. I tried not to let it worry me as I freshened up in my room, but it was impossible not to think gloomy thoughts about the Pilchers' fates.

By the time I ventured downstairs again, the others were back, waiting for me in the library. And they were smiling.

"You found him?" I asked Matt.

"Duke did."

"Found him and Abigail, actually," Duke said, pouring the tea. "She's a dressmaker, working at Peter Robinson’s, in the workroom."

"Peter Robinson the draper on Oxford Street?" I said, accepting a cup from him. "His shop grew quite large once he began stocking more than fabric. Did you speak to her?"

"The seamstresses had just clocked off when I got there. The supervisor wouldn't give me her details but said to come back first thing in the morning. He praised her a lot. Said she was a good worker and helped the other girls, most of 'em much younger. The finishing work is given out to piece workers who work from home, but the main manufacturing is done in the workroom above the shop."

Cyclops accepted the teacup from Duke and slapped him on the shoulder. "Well done, old friend."

"What about her son?" I asked. "You said you found them both."

"Antony Pilcher works for Peter Robinson’s too," Duke told me. "But he ain't in London much on account of his work takes him overseas a lot. He's a buyer for the company. Travels to China, apparently."

"China has the best silks," Matt said.

"Antony?" I arched a brow. "That sounds a lot like Antonio to me."

"It does indeed," Matt said. "It does indeed."

---

We ate a late, informal dinner in the dining room after Matt rested. The servants served then left us alone to talk, but instead of waiting until we'd vacated the dining room to collect the plates, Bristow entered just as we were getting up from the table. He placed a hand on my elbow and bent his head to mine.

"I need to show you something, Miss Steele," he whispered. "Come to my office when you can get away."

With such an intriguing carrot dangled before me, I decided to "get away" as quickly as possible and made my excuses. I made sure no one followed me as I snuck down the service stairs. I passed the kitchen, where the maids and cook were too busy to notice me, and went immediately to Bristow's small office. The door stood open and he ushered me inside. He shut the door.

"Sorry for the subterfuge, but I didn't want Mr. Glass blaming me for telling you." The butler was usually a stickler for the proper order of things, so it must be important for him to keep a secret from Matt.

"Telling me what, Bristow?"

"It's more like showing, not telling." He handed me a newspaper. It didn't sport a single crease so he must have been ironing it when he spotted the thing he needed to tell me about. "Look in the classifieds."

The paper was neither The City Review nor The Weekly Gazette, but The Times. I skipped to the classifieds section and scanned the pages. I knew which item Bristow referred to immediately upon seeing the large bold face type of the first line: ATTN SHERIFF PAYNE.

I read the brief advertisement then folded up the newspaper. I forced a kind smile for Bristow's sake, despite the blood boiling in my veins. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Bristow. You did the right thing. Don't worry about Mr. Glass. He'll probably realize you showed me this, but he won't admonish you for it."

"Why wouldn't he, if you don't mind me asking, Miss?"

"Because he's going to be too busy dodging my temper."

I marched out of his office and up the stairs. I found Matt with his aunt, Willie, Cyclops and Duke in the drawing room. Conversation halted upon my entry.

"India?" Matt asked. "What's the matter? Your face is flushed and your lips are pursing so hard they've almost disappeared." His gaze fell to the newspaper under my arm. "Bloody Bristow."

I smacked the newspaper into his chest. "Don't blame him. He's worried about you, and knew you'd done a foolish thing as soon as he saw it. Bringing it to my attention was the only thing in his power that he could do."

"India?" Miss Glass said crisply. "What's come over you to speak to Matthew like that?"

I snatched the newspaper off Matt and passed it to Miss Glass. Duke, Cyclops and Willie crowded behind her and read over her shoulder. I did not take my glare off Matt. He glared right back.

"I had to do it," he said. "It was the only way."

"It was not!" I snapped. "You are not responsible for Patience's mistake."

"And what of my mistake? I shouldn't have let Payne manipulate my family like he has. I should have dealt with him earlier. I should have posted that advertisement sooner, before he got the upper hand."

"Matt!" Willie exploded. She took the paper off Duke and waved it in front of Matt's face. "This is the stupidest thing you've ever done. You invited Payne to meet you and talk! He ain't going to talk. He's going to kill you."

"If he wanted to kill me, he could have done so already."

"He tried!" My shout reverberated around the room and I lowered my voice. "Bryce died in that accident after Payne fired at us. If it hadn't been for your watch, you would be dead too. When Payne realized the watch was keeping you alive, he tried to steal it. I agree with Willie. He's not going to simply talk with you. He'll try to kill you."

"Try being the most important word in that sentence. He won't succeed."

"You god dammed arrogant saphead!" Duke spat. "You ain't immortal. Sorry, Miss Glass, but sometimes a man's got to use strong language to get his point across."

Miss Glass didn't seem to hear him. She'd gone quite still and peered off into the distance. Perhaps she'd slipped into her own world to get away from the heated conversation in this one.

Matt appealed to Cyclops for support, but Cyclops crossed his arms over his massive chest and scowled. Matt stood with a sigh and headed for the sideboard and its decanter.

I beat him to it. "Don't turn to drink now. You need your wits about you."

"Just one, India." When I didn't move, he put up his hands and sat again. "Go on, then. Get it off your chest. You'll feel better."

"Don't patronize us. We're worried about you enough as it is, without adding this to the mix." I indicated the newspaper. "You've given Payne permission to get close to you, and if he gets close to you, he will strike."

"Not directly. He's too much of a coward."

"He's desperate now," Cyclops said. "He hasn't been able to kill you or discredit you. Desperate men are more dangerous. You know that."

Matt's eyes briefly fluttered closed before he reopened them. "I had to do something. Patience's life will be ruined because of me. Payne will follow through on his threat to tell Cox, and if he's the sort of man they say he is, he'll end the betrothal."

"Worry about it if and when it happens," Willie wailed.

"It'll be too late then."

"Hopefully Payne don't read the classifieds in The Times," Cyclops said.

Several voices chimed in agreement, but not Matt's.

"India's right," Duke said. "Patience ain't your responsibility, Matt. She made her bed, now she must lie in it. You don't have to protect her."

"I disagree," Matt said. "Setting aside the fact it'll be my fault if Payne talks to Cox, I am the heir to the Rycroft title and estate. That puts me as the head of the family after my uncle dies."

"He ain't dead yet!" Willie cried.

"And you don't even care about the title," I said hotly. "Nor about the estate or the way the system of inheritance and entailment works here. So you claim." I could no longer look at him. All this time he'd told me the customs associated with the English upper classes didn't matter to him, and yet now he claimed the opposite. Did that mean it mattered that I was beneath him after all? Was he lying about me being his equal? I was too confused and angry to think clearly on the subject.

Matt shot to his feet and grasped my elbows. "India," he purred. "I know what you're thinking and—" He cut himself off and glanced at his aunt. "We'll discuss it when we're alone."

I jerked free and turned my back to him. Needing something to do, I poured myself a brandy then drank the entire glass. The liquid warmed my chest, but did nothing to calm the emotions roiling inside me.

"Matthew is correct," Miss Glass said, proving she had been listening after all. "Patience and the girls are his responsibility. My brother Richard is their primary guardian, of course, but as his heir, Matthew has a duty to see that he plays a part in situations like this. They will be, after all, his burden to bear if they don't marry before he inherits."

"Just like you're Lord Rycroft's?" Willie said, brows arched.

"Willie," Matt snapped. "That's not fair."

She muttered an apology. Miss Glass accepted it with a curt nod. "My point," Miss Glass went on, "is that Matthew has a responsibility to stop this from happening if it's within his power to do so."

"But to expose himself like this," I said to her. "Surely you can see that he's putting himself in danger by inviting Payne to meet with him."

"I do see it, and that's why I can't agree to it."

Willie threw her hands in the air. "Then what are you saying?"

"That Matthew must be prepared to make amends if Lord Cox backs out of the arrangement."

"Fair enough." Willie tilted her chin at Matt. "You've got money enough to give her. Hell, you've got enough to give to her sisters if they're affected too."

"Which they will be," Miss Glass noted. "It's not financial recompense I'm referring to, however."

I suddenly felt the need for another drink and turned back to the sideboard. My vision blurred and my hand shook as I poured the brandy.

"Then what are you referring to?" Willie asked carefully.

"No," Matt said, also catching on. "Don't even think it, Aunt."

"Think what?"

"Are you talking about marriage?" Cyclops asked. "As in Matt marrying Patience?"

"God damn," Duke muttered.

Willie burst out laughing but it died just as quickly. I felt all their eyes on me but I didn't turn around. Couldn't. I didn't want to face Matt.

"All three girls will be affected if Lord Cox ends the engagement," Miss Glass said. "Their reputations can only be rescued if one of them marries well, but who would have them once the scandal erupts?"

"Patience is the only one who put herself about," Willie said. "Not the other two."

"It won't matter. The scandal will stick to all of them. At least for long enough to ruin their chances of making swift and good marriages."

Willie scoffed. "I don't believe it."

"Why can't one of them make a good marriage?" Duke asked. "The middle one's got a few matches missing from the box, but the youngest, Hope, ain't so bad. She's pretty, too. Some lord or other could fall in love with her."

"How, when she won't be invited anywhere?" Miss Glass asked. "She won't get to meet any suitable gentlemen, closeted within the walls of Rycroft House. Besides, she's not that easy to love. Believe me, I tried. None of the girls are."

I expected Matt to admonish her for being unkind, but he remained silent. Too silent. I hazarded a glance at him only to see him watching me, a small frown forming a line between his brows.

Miss Glass emitted a small sigh. "What gentleman of quality will love a damaged girl?" she murmured.

"This is absurd," Matt said. "I am not marrying one of my cousins. I'm meeting Payne and resolving this once and for all."

"Aye, with your death," Duke muttered. "That's the only thing that'll satisfy him."

"I don't want to hear any more about it. Is that clear?"

Duke and Cyclops stormed out, shaking their heads. Miss Glass touched her fingers to her temple and declared herself too tired to discuss it anymore. She followed them out.

"I'll come with you," I said.

"India, wait," Matt said. "Stay a few minutes."

"I'd rather not."

"Please."

How could I refuse when he injected so much vulnerability into that one word? I waited as Willie gave him a final dressing down over the subject of him meeting Payne then left too. She shut the door. I wished she hadn't.

"Don't try to sweet talk your way out of this, Matt," I said as he moved toward me. "I'm still angry with you." He drew closer, his gaze intense beneath heavy lids. I backed up against a chair. "Surely you must see how foolish it is to meet with Payne. He's not going to—"

He touched a finger to my lips. "I meant it when I said I don't want to discuss it."

That simply wasn't being fair. He had no right to cut me off from voicing my opinion a second or third time. I pushed his finger away and stamped my hands on my hips. "Then why did you ask me to remain here? And do not say to kiss me. I am not kissing you. Either we talk or I leave."

"Very well." His mouth flicked up on one side. "You're beautiful when you're angry."

I crossed my arms. "Is that it? Are you done?"

"Not in the least." He backed away and indicated I should sit before doing so himself. The distance between us allowed me to catch my breath but my nerves remained brittle. "I want you to know, without a shadow of doubt, that I intend to marry you if you'll have me. No matter what my aunt says, I will not be marrying Patience, Charity or Hope. Only you."

I simply stared at him. After a moment, I realized my mouth was ajar and closed it. "Now is not the time," I said, rising. "Considering Sheriff Payne might kill you, you won't be marrying anyone. Let's see if you live, first."

I regretted my quip the moment I said it. How could I be so thoughtless? If Payne didn't kill Matt there was a good chance he'd die anyway if we couldn't fix his watch.

"You're right," he said. "And yet I wanted you to know my feelings."

"I am aware of your feelings," I murmured, my face heating.

"Are you?" He crouched before me. "Because sometimes I don't think you understand the depth of them. India, I—"

"No, Matt. Please. We agreed to leave this discussion until after you're better."

"I've decided I can't wait for then. I want you to know now. I want to kiss you now. I want to have you now."

I blinked at him.

He smiled and brushed the hair off my forehead. The sweet gesture almost undid me. I felt the sob rise in my throat and swallowed it down.

"But I'll wait for that," he said. "The kissing, however…"

I put a hand to his chest. "There will be no kissing. There will be no more suggestion of anything between us, including marriage."

He sighed. "Until after I am better, yes, I know and agree."

"No, Matt." I pushed myself up and strode to the door, away from him. "Enough pretending. The conversation tonight has only driven home to me how much you and I cannot be together."

He rose too, slowly, and regarded me levelly. "Because I'm the Rycroft heir? That's the reason for your rejection of me? Come now, India, you know that means nothing to me. I don't care if you're a kitchen maid. I've fallen in love with you."

My heart lurched painfully in my chest. I pressed a hand to my stomach and concentrated on what I had to say and not the curious look in his eyes and the vein throbbing in his throat. It was not time to give in to my desires, but time to be a sensible adult and lay out the reasons why I couldn't marry him.

"I don't want a life where the people I see every day consider me unworthy," I said.

"They won't."

"Hear me out. I finally feel as though I'm standing on my own two feet, out of the shadow of my father, and even of you. And I like it. I like being in control of my life, knowing my future is an open book, waiting for me to write the words. Me, Matt, not a father or husband, or even sons." A lump rose in my throat at that. I wasn't just giving up Matt but any future children I may have had with him. "Marrying you will see that all disappear. Not because you want it to be that way, but just because it will. That's the way of the world. I will be your wife, not me anymore. Not my own person."

"That's not true. Many married women make their own mark on the world. I'm not going to imprison you. I don't want you to not be yourself. Marrying me won't be the end of your freedom, India. It'll simply mark the beginning of a new phase."

I blinked back the tears threatening to well. He was right; I knew he would never smother me if we married. Yet I forged on. I didn't really know why, when every argument I threw at him was as thin as paper and my resolve crumbled with every word.

"Your own family will treat me as inferior," I went on. "They'll think I am marrying you for your money and title. It will drive a wedge between us, and I'll lose Miss Glass's friendship."

His face softened. He took a few steps toward me and skimmed his thumb down my cheek. "Aunt Letitia will come around. She likes you more than she likes her friends. If they want to make an issue of it then she'll refuse to see them. As to Uncle Richard and Aunt Beatrice, I simply don't care what they think, and I doubt Aunt Letitia does either."

My breaths came in short, sharp bursts and my skin felt hot, tight. I shouldn't allow him to seduce me with words. Shouldn't want him to seduce me. Yet his deep, rumbling voice wrapped around me, and I couldn't get free.

"They'll be determined for you to marry Patience if Lord Cox breaks the engagement," I said, feeling sick at the thought of him marrying anyone but me.

"Don't worry about that. I'll think of something, if it comes to pass."

A bubble of nervous laughter escaped. "You have an answer for everything."

"Almost." He searched my eyes then his gaze fell to my mouth. "Almost." He kissed me lightly on the lips then suddenly pulled away.

I grasped the back of a chair for balance and blinked at him. He stood by the door, a wicked smile on his lips and heat in his gaze.

"I told you I'd wait to have you," he said, thickly. "So you'd better go."

I slipped past him and hurried up to my room, not entirely sure if I'd accepted his proposal of marriage—or if he'd even offered one. I wasn't entirely sure of anything anymore, except that we needed to fix his watch soon and resolve what lay between us, one way or another—whichever way that may be.