The Watchmaker's Daughter (Glass and Steele Book 1) by C.J. Archer Page B

Glass's rich, deep voice broke into my self-centered thoughts.
    "You've been there?" Catherine leaned forward, her teacup pausing on its way to her lips.
    "I lived there, many years ago."
    "How thrilling."
    "That's enough, Catherine," Mr. Mason chided. "Mr. Glass has more important things to discuss than your flights of fancy. Paris is not for the likes of you."
    Catherine slouched back against her chair with a pout. I gave her a sympathetic smile, but she looked away.
    The conversation stalled, so I decided to get to the point of our visit. "Mr. Glass has offered me lodgings in his house," I told the Masons. "I've come to collect my things."
    Catherine's jaw dropped but she quickly recovered. "Marvelous! Come upstairs and we'll fetch them together."
    Mrs. Mason tsk tsk ed. "I'm sure the arrangement is all very respectable," she said, "but I feel I must protest. What will people think?"
    "India knows what she's doing," Mr. Mason said quickly. "Don't fret, my dear."
    His wife glared at him. He sipped his tea.
    "They won't think anything, because nobody I know will find out," I said hotly. "Even if they do, does it matter? My future is already ruined. Eddie saw to that. A little scandal won't taint me further."
    Mrs. Mason humph ed and bustled about, collecting teacups and plates, her cheeks pink. No doubt she was contemplating all sorts of lurid scenarios involving Mr. Glass and myself. They were probably similar to the ones I'd contemplated myself, particularly after the corset incident. Sometimes my skin still felt as if it bore the impressions of his hands.
    "I understand your concerns," Mr. Glass said. "And I'm glad Miss Steele has good friends in you both. But rest assured, my cousin, Miss Willemina Johnson, is staying with me and will act as chaperone. She's a respectable, responsible woman of high moral character and will insure that Miss Steele is treated with courtesy at all times. Miss Steele, would you say my description of Willie is accurate, based on your first impressions?"
    They all looked to me. Fortunately my cheeks no longer felt hot, but I had a devil of a time keeping a straight face. Willie probably would have fallen over with laughter herself if she'd heard her cousin's description. "She's all that and more," I assured the Masons. "She's very sweet and kind."
    Mr. Glass smiled at me. Hopefully I was the only one who noticed the wicked gleam in his eyes.
    "I intend to look for more permanent lodgings and employment in the coming days," I said. "I don't want to burden your good selves any further."
    "You're no burden, India," Catherine said, touching my knee.
    "Not at all," Mrs. Mason said, after an awkward moment. Her husband sipped his tea.
    "That's settled then," Catherine said, standing. "Come, India, let's get your things."
    Up in her room, she helped me pack while I told her that the hem of my dress had come down so Willie had loaned me one of hers until I could repair it later. She hardly seemed to be listening.
    "He's so lovely," she eventually said, closing my valise and fixing the clasp in place.
    "Mr. Glass? I hadn't noticed."
    "Tosh! Of course you have. And to think, you're going to stay with him in his house. What an opportunity!"
    "I know what you're referring to, Catherine, and I think you've gone mad. I am not going to throw myself at Mr. Glass."
    "Perhaps he'll throw himself at you."
    That had us both laughing until we collapsed on the bed, out of breath.
    Once recovered, we headed back down to the parlor with my valise. I touched Catherine's hand before we went in, wanting some sort of reassurance from a person I knew and trusted. Despite our laughter, I was anxious about staying in Mr. Glass's house. He and the other members of his household were nothing like us. They were bold and brash, and they talked about holsters and…pups. They could be outlaws. I could be walking into something too deep to dig myself out of.
    Catherine squeezed my hand in sympathy, although she didn't know the