I tried to steer Miss Glass to a nearby chair, but she shooed me away.

"Answer me, India," she demanded.

"No one is leaving yet," I said.

"Yet," she repeated. "I see."

I appealed to Duke and Cyclops but they suddenly became very interested in their cards. "Come and sit down. I'll pour you a brandy."

She accepted my assistance and the glass when I handed it to her, but she didn't sip. Her gaze became distant, and I worried she'd slipped into the past to take refuge against from the present.

"Is this because of the announcement in The Times?" she asked, proving me wrong.

"I think you should wait for Matt to return and speak to him."

She held my gaze. "I'm asking you, India."

I sat beside her on the sofa with a sigh. I couldn't lie to her, even though lying might be the best thing to do if her mind couldn't cope with the truth. "What I am about to tell you is told in absolute confidence. You cannot repeat it to anyone, especially not to your brother and sister-in-law. Do you promise not to tattle?"

"I am not a common gossip, India."

I sucked in a breath and summoned some patience. "Matt and I have decided to leave England if we cannot break the engagement with Patience any other way."

She lowered her head and studied the contents of the glass cradled in her lap. After a moment, she drank.

"There is still a chance Lord Cox will change his mind after spending time with her at tomorrow night's dinner," I said.

She shook her head. "He won't."

"Then we'll make arrangements to leave. Patience will be told in a letter, as gently as possible, but…I'm afraid she'll be deeply hurt."

Miss Glass set aside the glass. "I didn't think either of you were so cowardly."

"There is no other way."

"A gentleman ought to face his responsibilities—"

"Marrying Patience is not Matt's responsibility. Her happiness is not his responsibility."

"He is her cousin. He'll be head of the family when Richard dies."

"You are being unfair, Miss Glass. You place far too much on Matt's shoulders, and do not tell me that it's how things are done with your lot. Perhaps if Matt was brought up here, he would think differently, but he is not the sort of man who believes marrying a woman he doesn't love will make her happy. Even if we had never met, he wouldn't do it. They are completely unsuited to one another and would end up miserable. Patience will realize that, in time."

I waited for her to disagree but she did not. "What about me?" she asked weakly. "What will I do?"

"Well," I said carefully, "Matt could set you up with a new companion here, in this house, if you like."

"I don't want a new companion. I want you, India."

"Despite everything? Despite our disagreement now?"

"We are not disagreeing."

I almost smiled. I wasn't entirely sure what we were doing either.

She blinked big eyes at me. "Where will you go?"

"We haven't discussed a destination. Perhaps America, or Europe. Matt has properties there, and I've always wanted to see the continent. Cyclops can't return to America," I said, looking over my shoulder at him.

Miss Glass plucked the brandy tumbler off the table and stared into it. "Patience might never recover from the rejection," she said, switching topic again. "It'll stain her for the rest of her life."

I buried my face in my hands. "I know," I mumbled into them. "But if we stay and Matt marries her, we will be unhappy for the rest of our lives." I scrubbed my hands down my face then looked at her again. "Your brother has forced this onto everyone. If you want to blame someone, blame him. Matt and I will not be manipulated by him. Or by anyone else."

I strode across the room, only to pause in the doorway. Miss Glass looked small and frail sitting on the sofa clutching the glass of brandy. She looked even smaller when Cyclops sat down beside her. I left them. Perhaps he could say something to convince her that Matt and I were doing the right thing.

Then perhaps he could convince me, because I suddenly thought leaving England was a very bad idea.

I informed Matt of my conversation with Miss Glass over breakfast. Cyclops and Duke joined us, but Miss Glass and Willie had not yet risen.

"Did she have one of her turns?" Matt asked as he sat next to me, a plate in one hand and coffee cup in the other.

"No, surprisingly. Was she all right after I left?" I asked Cyclops and Duke.

"She was fine," Cyclops said, adding more bacon to his already full plate. "She's worried about her future. She don't want to live with her brother again."

"She won't," Matt said.

"I suggested you would employ a companion for her," I told Matt. "But she didn't like that idea."

Duke pointed his butter knife at me. "That's because she wants you, India."

"I'd be happy to remain as her companion—if she agreed to Matt and me being together."

Matt placed his hand over my arm and squeezed. "She'll come around."

"Hopefully soon. It's not long until the wedding." A matter of three weeks, in fact, since they were keeping the same date that was set for Patience's wedding to Lord Cox.

Duke glanced at the door then leaned forward. "How'd it go with Willie last night?" he whispered loudly.

"Fine," Matt said. "Willie got drunk."

"Did she talk to you about…" He waved the butter knife around. "About that nurse?"

"We talked about her, among other things."

"Did she cry?"

Matt met his gaze. "I won't tell you what we discussed in confidence. What I can tell you is that Willie needs time before she falls in love again. So no matchmaking. Understand?"

Duke held the knife up in surrender. "Matchmaking's a woman's job."

I laughed. "That's not what you said last night."

He glared at me, and I smiled into my cup.

We went our separate ways after church, with Matt and I heading to Oscar's residence. He rented rooms on the second floor of an old house within walking distance of The Weekly Gazette's office on Lower Mire Lane. His landlady opened the door only wide enough to peek through and demanded we state our business before letting us in. I could only make out the middle two inches of her face through the gap.

"Is Oscar Barratt at home?" Matt asked.

"He might be or he might not be," she said.

"We're glad to see you're being cautious," I told her. "He must have warned you that his life is in danger."

"Who are you and what do you want?"

"My name is India Steele. This is Mr. Glass. We're friends of Mr. Barratt's."

She opened the door wider. "He told me you can enter if you came calling. He's upstairs with his brother."

We were about to head up the staircase when there was a loud crash above our heads. Matt ran up, taking the stairs three at a time. I picked up my skirts and raced after him.

"Stay here," I told the landlady. "Keep guarding the door."

By the time I reached Oscar's sitting room, Matt held a man from behind, rendering his arms useless. Oscar lay sprawled on the floor, the pieces of a broken table around him. He rubbed his jaw.

"Get up, coward," the man in Matt's grip snarled. "Get up and face me like a man."

I went to Oscar's side and assisted him. Once he was on his feet, I glanced at his assailant and gasped. It had to be Isaac Barratt, Oscar's brother. He was a little shorter than Oscar, and more solidly built, but had the same shade of dark brown hair and eyes. Although they both sported sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw, their features were arranged a little differently so that Oscar was the more handsome of the two.

"Are you all right?" I asked Oscar.

He stretched his neck and adjusted his tie. "Yes, thank you. You can let him go, Glass. He took me by surprise, this time, and my shoulder is not yet fully recovered, but I can usually best my brother."

"You make it sound like you do this sort of thing a lot," I said.

He glared at Isaac. "We used to, for fun."

Matt slowly released Isaac. As soon as he was completely free, Isaac lunged at Oscar. Matt grabbed him again and jerked him backward. Isaac lost his balance and would have fallen if Matt hadn't held onto him.

"It seems our discussion will have to take place like this," Matt said, not letting go.

Isaac held up his hands. "You can release me. I can see I won't get anywhere with Oscar's thug in the room."

"Thug?" Matt echoed. "And here I thought everyone took me for a gentleman, these days."

I glared at Matt. Now wasn't the time for jokes.

He released Isaac again and this time Isaac didn't try to hit his brother. Oscar, however, didn't relax his stance. I thought that wise, since Isaac looked as if the slightest provocation would entice him into another fit of violence.

Matt held out his hand to Isaac. "My name is Matthew Glass, and this is Miss Steele. I assume you're Isaac Barratt."

Isaac scanned Matt from head to toe then stretched his neck out of his collar in the same way Oscar had. He finally shook Matt's hand.

"I suppose there's no need to ask what this is about," Matt said.

"Actually, you'd be surprised," Oscar sneered.

I looked from one snarling brother to the other. "This isn't about you writing those articles and naming yourself as an ink magician?"

"Of course it is." Isaac snatched his coat off the back of an armchair near the window. We stood in a small sitting room. A door led to an adjoining bedchamber. The bed was unmade, with Oscar's half-eaten breakfast on the table beside it.

"Is that so?" Oscar said with icy calmness. "Then why the months of cold silences before I left, before I ever thought about revealing magic through the papers? Why turn our friends against me?"

"Can you not forget that? I won, Oscar."

Oscar snorted. "You don't really believe that. Not deep down. She chose me, but she married you because you inherited the business."

Isaac puffed out his chest. "She married me because I treat her better than you ever did."

"Is she still in love with me? Is that why you hate me?"

"I don't hate you. You're my brother." It sounded automatic, like something Isaac had repeated so many times it simply fell from his lips.

"You tried to punch me! Of course you hate me."

Isaac marched toward the door, but Matt blocked his path. "We need to speak to you both," Matt said.

Isaac sighed. "About what?"

"We're investigating the death of Mr. Baggley, the editor of The Weekly Gazette."

"Oscar tells me he was the intended target," Isaac said. "Do you believe that?"

"We haven't ruled anything out at this point."

"Am I a suspect?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Oscar said. "You're my brother. No matter how much we fight, you're not going to try to kill me."

Isaac watched Oscar from beneath lowered lashes. Oscar swallowed and took a step back.

"We spoke to the man who came looking for you at the office on the day of the murder," Matt said to Oscar. "He claims he didn't return later and shoot Baggley."

"Of course he'd say that." Oscar inspected the damaged table. Finding its damaged legs unable to support it, he lay it down again. "He's hardly going to tell you the truth."

"He's a professor of history," I said. "He has a keen interest in the history of magic and wanted to offer his expertise for your articles."

Oscar looked up. "What's his name?"

"I'll tell you later."

Oscar's gaze slid to his brother. "Isaac isn't a killer. A fool, a crow and a…a word I won't use in front of a lady. But he's not a killer, India."

"Don't tell him the name in front of me," Isaac said. "I don't care to know it. If the professor dies in suspicious circumstances, I don't want to be the prime suspect in both murders."

"You're not the prime suspect in Baggley's."

"But I'm certainly a suspect, aren't I?" Isaac asked Matt.

Matt didn't respond.

"There was another man who came to see you that day and overheard the staff member tell the professor that you were working late," I said.

"Do you know who?" Oscar asked.

"We're going to question him now."

Isaac tried to step around Matt, but Matt moved to block the exit again. "You were seen arguing with your brother that day. Was it about the articles Oscar has been writing?"

"What do you think?" Isaac snarled. "He has no idea what harm he has caused me and my family back home. He swans around the city, doing as he pleases, and meanwhile we suffer the consequences. I lost customers because he told the whole bloody world that he's an ink magician, and now they all think I am too."

"You are," Oscar said lightly. "And don't exaggerate. The entire world doesn't know. The Gazette's a London paper."

Isaac bared his teeth but he thought better of lunging at his brother again, probably because Matt was standing very close. "There are people who want magicians to fade into the background, Oscar. A lot of them are very powerful, and they will do whatever it takes to protect their businesses. This is not a game. Lives are at stake, as you well know after the murder of your editor."

Oscar had the decency to look chastised.

"If you did this to get revenge on Cecilia and me—"

"Don't be absurd," Oscar barked. "I was never in love with her. She was in love with me, and going by your overreaction, she probably still is."

"Overreaction?" Isaac grunted as he put on his jacket. "I'm leaving. I can't stand listening to your narcissistic drivel."

"Go. I don't want to see you anymore. And don't expect a warm welcome next time. I'll instruct my landlady not to let you in."

"She can't keep me out. Or anyone else, for that matter."

"Is that a threat, Isaac?"

"Take it any way you like."

Oscar shook his head. "Our parents would turn in their graves if—"

"Do not presume to know what they'd think." Isaac marched out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

I didn't know what to say, so I picked a book off the floor and placed it on a chair. It must have been on the table that had ended up bearing the brunt of their argument. Oscar picked up part of a table leg.

"He brings destruction wherever he goes," he said, inspecting the splintered end.

"Is that a literary quote?" I asked.

One corner of his mouth lifted. "It's something I overheard him say to Cecilia once, after they fought about me and how she…how she had feelings for me. She claimed she no longer did, but…" He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "I left the next day. It was better for everyone."

"If it helps, I think you did the right thing."

Someone knocked on the door, and Matt answered it. Detective Inspector Brockwell stood there.

"Miss Steele, what a pleasant surprise," he said. "But, may I ask, what are you both doing here?"

"Investigating the threatening letters sent to Mr. Barratt," Matt said stiffly.

"Since you wouldn't do it," Oscar chimed in.

"That wasn't my response, sir, and well you know it," Brockwell said, clipping off each consonant with brutal precision to convey his point. "I will investigate the letters as a separate matter, in due course. The murder is taking up all my time and much of Scotland Yard's resources. As I said to you, when you first brought the letters to my attention, I don't think you were the shooter's intended target instead of Mr. Baggley."

"Then why you are here?"

"I need to account for the movements of the main suspects during the day and evening of the murder."

Oscar recoiled. "I'm a suspect?"

Brockwell clapped his hands behind his back and lifted his chin. He almost looked noble, but his scruffy sideburns and crumpled shirt collar let him down. "You and Mr. Isaac Barratt were overheard arguing on the day of the murder in the Gazette's office. It's my understanding the argument was about the magic articles you wrote."

"My brother is against revealing magic to the world. What of it?"

"How did the argument end?"

"As they always do, with him storming out."

"What are you getting at, Inspector?" I asked.

"I am sorry, Miss Steele, but I can't divulge that at this point. I hope you understand." His gaze lifted to Matt's as Matt moved closer to me. Brockwell turned back to Oscar. "Where can I find your brother, sir?"

"You just missed him." Oscar indicated the broken table. "As you can see, we argued."

"He has a violent streak?"

Oscar frowned. "Are you accusing my brother of Baggley's murder?"

Brockwell glared back. "Where is he staying, Mr. Barratt?"

"You are accusing him." Oscar squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Christ, man, he's a fool, not a killer. Why would he kill Baggley to stop the articles, anyway? Why not me? I am the writer. I can take the articles anywhere."

"Can you? Have you tried?"

Oscar's frown deepened. "No, but…but I've helped the Gazette's circulation."

"And created enemies for yourself, the paper, and the editor." Brockwell paced the room, taking in the broken table, the unmade bed in the adjoining room, the half-eaten breakfast. Was he looking for evidence that Isaac Barratt was staying with his brother? "I am not a newspaperman. I don't pretend to know these things, but if I were an editor of a different newspaper, I wouldn't touch your inciting articles. Not for all the circulation figures in the world."

"The newspaper world is grateful you are not a newspaperman then." Oscar indicated the door. "If you're going to accuse Isaac or me, kindly leave. I have nothing more to say. Even if I knew where my brother was staying, I wouldn't tell you. He's not a murderer."

"Of course you'd defend him." Brockwell held up a finger when Oscar protested. "Wouldn't it make sense for your brother to kill your editor and not you? After all, it's much easier to murder a stranger than a family member."

Oscar marched to the door and jerked it wide open. "Get out."

Brockwell gave him a tight smile. "As you wish. Good day. Good day to you too, Miss Steele." To Matt he said, "I see from the announcement in The Times that congratulations are in order."

Matt hesitated then gave a curt nod.

Brockwell took my hand and bowed over it. "If I need to speak to you again, where will I find you?"

"I am still residing at number sixteen Park Street," I said.

Brockwell hesitated. "That is…unexpected."

Matt stood on the other side of the open door to Oscar, indicating Brockwell should leave.

"I wish you the best of luck in your marriage, sir," Brockwell said to Matt.

"Marriage?" Oscar blinked at me.

"Not to Miss Steele. Mr. Glass is engaged to his cousin, the daughter of Lord Rycroft."

Oscar's lips parted then a hesitant smile touched his lips. "Is that so? Congratulations, Glass." The smile stretched with each second that Matt didn't respond.

Brockwell stepped closer to me and lowered his voice. "I admit to being taken by surprise, Miss Steele. I pride myself on my observational skills, and I thought there was something more than a professional relationship between you and Mr. Glass. It seems I was wrong. I apologize for my assumption."

"No apology necessary," I muttered, unable to meet his gaze.

"Perhaps I can call upon you—"

"Didn't you say you were leaving, Brockwell?" Matt prompted.

Oscar opened the door wider. "Good day, Inspector."

Brockwell bowed to me again then left without another word.

"I'm also taken by surprise by this announcement," Oscar said, rejoining me.

I bit my lip, wanting to tell him the truth but knowing I couldn't. For now, everyone must believe Matt was marrying Patience.

Matt, however, must have had enough. When Oscar took my hand and kissed the back of it, he said, "You of all people should know not to believe everything you read in the papers, Barratt."

Oscar dropped my hand as if it burned.

"Be careful, Barratt," Matt growled, his voice low. "Your life is still in danger."

Oscar swallowed.

Matt offered me his arm and escorted me out. He gave our coachman orders to drive to Hendry's Smithfield paper shop and settled opposite me in the cabin.

"They're circling like vultures now they think you're available," he grumbled.

I fought to keep a straight face. This wasn't a laughing matter, although I did like that he was jealous. "I believe vultures eat the scraps left behind by predators. Are you calling me your leftovers, Matt?"

"Don't tease me, India. I can't see the lighter side at the moment."

I changed seats to sit beside him and closed both my hands around his arm. The muscle flexed then relaxed. "We'll be able to tell them I am not available soon."

"Not soon enough."

Hendry's paper shop was closed on Sundays, as were all the shops along the Smithfield strip. The street was quiet, almost entirely devoid of life, since many of the shopkeepers lived above or behind their shops. Two couples strolled by, and three children played on the pavement. I spotted a man lounging against a wall a little further along, but I couldn't see his face beneath his lowered hat brim. I knew it was Cyclops from his size.

The door to Mr. Hendry's shop was unlocked, even though the sign read closed. Matt called out and Hendry emerged from the rear workshop, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

"What do you want now?" he said on a sigh.

"Why were you asking for Oscar Barratt at The Weekly Gazette's office on the day Baggley was killed?" Matt asked.

Mr. Hendry bristled. "Who says I was?"

"There are witnesses."

"It's none of your affair, and I don't have to answer you.

"At this point in time, the police don't suspect you," Matt went on. "They aren't aware that the threatening letters to Barratt were written on magic paper. We'd be happy to assist them, however, and you can answer their questions instead."

Mr. Hendry rearranged three small parcels on the counter that looked as if they were ready to be sent to customers in the morning.

"It won't look good for you if you don't answer," I said gently. "We know you overheard a Gazette employee tell another man that Oscar Barratt would be working late. Did you return that evening to speak with him?"

"I went nowhere near the Gazette's office that night." He moved on to a stack of invitations at the counter's end and ensured it was square. "I admit that I was there during the day. I wanted to reason with Mr. Barratt. He needs to know that his articles are putting people like me in jeopardy. I'm losing friends because of him." His voice rose, along with the color in his cheeks.

I touched his arm. "Perhaps those friends weren't worth having if they're abandoning you now."

Mr. Hendry snorted. "It's different for you. You don't work in your magic trade."

"And Mr. Sweeney doesn't work in yours."

His gaze sharpened. "Yet he refuses to speak to me now."

"And he's turning others against you," Matt added.

Hendry fidgeted with the stack of invitations again. The act seemed to soothe him, just as touching watches soothed me.

"I understand," I said gently.

He sniffed. "No, Miss Steele, you don't."

I looked to Matt, hoping he could say something to cheer the poor man up.

"Did you return to the Gazette's office that night?" Matt asked again. It would seem his sour mood had lingered, and his charm had abandoned him.

"I already told you I didn't."

"Why didn't you? You wanted to speak to Barratt, and you knew he was going to be there."

"I didn't go back!"

"Where were you?" Matt pressed.

"Here," Mr. Hendry grumbled. "All night."

"Can anyone confirm that?"

"That's none of your business!"

He stripped off the top invitation from the pile and threw it at Matt, murmuring something under his breath that I couldn't quite hear. The paper clipped Matt below the ear and fluttered to the floor.

"You're bleeding," I said, going to Matt's side.

He touched the small cut, smearing the drop of blood. He looked to Mr. Hendry. "You have more than one magic trick."

Mr. Hendry backed away, hands extended as if warning us not to get too close. "I…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

I picked the invitation off the floor and ran my hands over the blank back. It was hot. "You turned it into a weapon," I murmured.

"I…I said I was sorry."

"Death by paper cut," Matt said wryly as he wiped the rest of the blood off his neck with his handkerchief.

"How did you do it?" I asked Mr. Hendry. "What words did you say?"

He shook his head quickly. "I won't tell you."

"But that spell…you know two, don't you? One to improve the quality of your paper, the other to fling the paper."

His eyes widened as he backed into the counter. "Don't tell anyone. It's been years since I used that spell. If people think I can hurt them with paper, they'll come for me. I won't be safe."

"No one will harm you, Mr. Hendry, and I won't tell anyone what happened here. Can you make the paper move without a spell?"

"India!" Matt gave his head a slight shake. "We should go."

"Can you make paper move without a spell?" I said again.

Mr. Hendry shook his head. "You should leave now."

"If you think of anything that exonerates you, let us know," Matt said.

Mr. Hendry turned wild eyes onto Matt. "I didn't kill that man! Please, you must believe me."

We left and the door slammed closed behind us. The lock tumbled.

"Are you mad, India?" Matt said when we were alone in the carriage.

"His paper turned into a weapon for him. It's the same as my watch." I clutched my reticule tighter, feeling the shape of my new, untested watch inside.

"Don't ask him that question again," Matt said. "He'll want to know why you're asking, and that'll reveal too much."

He was right. I needed to be careful. Yet knowing that didn't diminish my need to learn more about my power. I doubted Mr. Hendry could teach me, however, and that made questioning him further a pointless exercise.

I nodded and he finally sat back with a sigh.

"Do you think he lied about not returning to the Gazette's office that night to speak to Barratt?" I asked.

"It's hard to say. He grew angry when I pressured him, which is suspicious."

"Angry enough to give you a paper cut."

He smirked as he touched the cut beneath his ear. "I wonder if he could have flung all of those sheets of paper at me at once."

It was a sobering thought. One paper cut wasn't enough to distract Matt, but hundreds certainly would.

"I'll have Cyclops continue to watch him," he said as we drove past Cyclops. He tugged on his hat brim in deference but made no other sign that he knew us.

"He's very conspicuous," I said. "Perhaps you should get Duke to do it instead."

"I need him watching Cox. Cyclops is too conspicuous, and I can't have Cox getting suspicious."

"Just until this investigation is finished."

"My priority is finding Cox's weakness, not this investigation." His iciness invited no argument, and I offered none.

Matt had to summon his charms upon our return home, however. Gabe Seaford was waiting for us, and he was one man we both wanted to stay on friendly terms with. The magical doctor may be needed to save Matt's life again one day. We all hoped that day would not be soon.

"What a lovely surprise," I said, accepting his kiss on my cheek. "I must admit, we weren't expecting to see you."

Gabe shook Matt's hand and glanced at Miss Glass. He looked uncertain, and she graciously left the room, even though she knew what Gabe had done to save Matt. He seemed to relax a little once she was gone.

"I see you've already had tea," I said, sitting on the sofa.

"Miss Glass took good care of me," he said. "Your aunt is very kind, Matt, and appears to be in good health, considering her age."

Matt smiled. "Don't let her hear you discuss her age or she won't serve you tea anymore."

Gabe laughed.

"Speaking of her health," Matt said. "She sometimes has turns where her mind seems to slip into the past. It usually happens when she's upset. Can anything be done for her?"

"How long do the turns last?"

"A few minutes."

"Then I wouldn't worry too much. Short-term memory loss is quite common in the elderly, unfortunately. And what about you? You look well."

"I feel fine, entirely back to normal. Thank you again, Gabe. You're a miracle worker."

"And we will be forever in your debt," I added. "It was good of you to call on Matt."

"I read the announcement of your engagement in The Times."

Matt's face clouded. He looked away.

Gabe looked from Matt to me then back to Matt. "Is something wrong?"

"No," I said quickly.

"So the announcement wasn't a mistake?"

I searched for the right response, but could think of none. Matt didn't say a word. The silence stretched painfully until I could no longer stand it.

"More tea, Gabe?"

"No, thank you." He frowned and glanced between us again. "I've upset you both. I'm sorry, I'd better go."

We saw him out and watched him walk along Park Street to the corner. "That was nice of him to come and see if you're feeling all right," I said, returning inside.

Matt led the way to the library and held the door open for me. "I doubt that's why he was here."

"Then why?"

"He saw the announcement in The Times, assumed you were free, and came to ask you to the theater tonight or something similar."

I laughed. "Good lord, Matt. Before I met you, Eddie was my only beau. Now you see them everywhere. I haven't changed. I'm hardly going to attract four times more gentlemen callers now than before."

"You have changed. You just don't see it." He closed the door and circled his arms around my waist from behind. "You're more confident in yourself," he murmured in my ear, "and that confidence makes you desirable."

I pulled away, too aware of him and not trusting my reaction being so close to him.

"And for another, you're not very good at seeing what is right in front of your nose." He kissed the tip of my nose. "It wouldn't surprise me if you had more men interested in you before Eddie than you think."

I rolled my eyes, and was about to say something, when someone knocked on the library door. Bristow entered upon Matt's command.

"Lord and Lady Rycroft are here, sir. They wish to speak with you in the sitting room. Alone."

Matt took my hand. "They can say whatever they want in front of you, India."

I shook my head. "It'll be better for everyone if I stay away."

He nodded but didn't look too pleased to be facing the lions without me.

I headed for the stairs while he opened the door to the sitting room and closed it again. I met Miss Glass on the way down and informed her that Lord and Lady Rycroft wanted to be alone with Matt to talk.

"Alone? Tosh! This will be about the wedding and that concerns the entire family. Come along, India. You ought to be there too."

"Me? Why?"

"Because it concerns you too, whether they like it or not. You and Matthew have chosen a particular path, now you must face the consequences together." She pointed at the sitting room door. "In there are two of the consequences."

Cold dread pressed down on me. "Do not tell them our plans to leave, Miss Glass. I beg you."

She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the sitting room door. I closed my eyes and prayed I only had to fight two lions, not three.