Page 16 of Tales of a Society Nothing

She paused on the street outside it, looking at the shops on the right and the left and then turning and examining the shops across the street. Everything looked very much as it should in Marylebone, but Ambrose waited patiently, even if his side throbbed and he wanted nothing more than to sit down and eat.

“Show me where you were waiting for Vanderville’s staff member,” she said, gesturing to the tavern.

A quick glance through the establishment’s windows showed him the table he’d occupied that night was empty. They entered, and he led her to it. He would have pulled out a chair for her, but she walked ahead of him and seated herself. Ambrose sat across from her and signaled a server. He ordered tea and half the menu. Maggie waited until he was finished then told the server to disregard all of that except the tea and to bring them both plain toast. Ambrose began to object, but Maggie tossed him a look of warning and he closed his mouth. The server seemed to know who was in charge and scurried away.

“You’ve been ill,” she said. “The last thing you need is sausage and blood pudding. You’ll be sick. Stick to toast. Perhaps porridge.”

“Now you’re punishing me.”

She smiled, obviously remembering that he detested porridge. “You deserve it.” Then her expression went serious, and she pointed out the window beside their table. “I can see why you chose this table. You can observe everyone who walks by. No doubt you wanted to know when your informant arrived.”

“Or didn’t arrive, as the case may be.”

“Correct. But this table affords anyone looking for you a perfect opportunity to observe as well.” She pointed at the building across the busy street. Several men stood outside smoking and chatting.

“It’s a coffee house,” he said. “Members’ only.” Did she think he hadn’t surveilled the area before deciding to meet here?

“And it’s a perfect place for the assailant to wait and watch for you.”

“Assuming he was a member.”

She gestured to the men standing outside. “Are all of them members?”

“I don’t know.”

The server returned with weak tea and dry toast. Ambrose ate two pieces posthaste then sat back, the pounding in his head lessening. “How would he know I would be here?”

“Because he extracted that information from the servant you were supposed to meet before killing him.”

***

HOLYOAKE DROPPED HISthird piece of toast and stared at her. Had he really not considered the reason that Vanderville’s former servant hadn’t met him was because the man was dead?

“You can’t know that for certain.”

“It’s easy enough to determine. The Metropolitan Police will have a record of murders. We ask about any bodies found the night you were attacked.”

Holyoake lowered his head. “I should have done that already.”

Margaret felt a sudden sense of sympathy for him. She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “You were intent on staying alive. I’m amazed you were able to think straight enough to make it to a surgeon. You must have lost a great deal of blood. Speaking of which, show me where you were attacked.”

He gave her a look she knew well. That look that said don’t-rush-me. He lifted his toast again and ate it, drank more tea, and then attacked another piece of toast. She nibbled her own, knowing she had to eat or else she would be hungry and tired later. She was eager to be on their way now, to track the assassin and perhaps even capture him and find out what he knew. If Vanderville intended to send him to kill the prime minister’s son, then she could stop him before he ever left. The agents there would be safe, as would the boy.

Baron would see he had made the right decision in giving her this assignment. She’d waited eighteen months for her first mission, only to realize the reason she’d finally been given one was because her target was her estranged husband. She wanted a mission she earned on her own, not by virtue of her marriage.

But then she glanced at Holyoake and wondered how she would ever leave him again. Leaving him once had been hard enough. How could she walk away again? It was so much easier to pretend she didn’t still love him when they were apart. Now that they were together, all her feelings had bubbled to the surface. She still loved him, perhaps more now than she ever had because she realized how close she had come to losing him.

“I’m still hungry, but we’re out of tea and toast,” he said, rising. “Come and I’ll show you the scene of the attack.”

She smiled at how dramatic he sounded. Hopefully, his mood would improve now that he’d eaten. She knew she had angered him in the hackney. Part of that had been necessary as he seemed to have a faulty memory when it came to the realities of their marriage.

You were all I ever wanted.

She wanted to smack him for spouting such drivel. Even if it had been true, she wouldn’t have liked it. Everyone needed interests and pursuits outside marriage. His just took him away for months at a time, and she was not content with whiling away her life with dressmakers and tea parties.

Now they were working together.Trulyworking as partners, and she was thrilled. But she also feared it was only a matter of time before his anger and pride resurfaced and he insisted on taking the lead to protect her, either because he really feared for her life or because he didn’t think her capable.

She thought, more often than not, it had been the latter reason that spurred him to leave her behind.

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