Page 30 of The Spy Who Loved Her
Apparently, both children had been splashing in puddles together, since Dannyboy was significantly dirtier than he had been when he had first arrived at Rafe’s home a few hours earlier, and Hannah had muddy splotches of water all across the front of her dress.
Digging in his pocket, Dannyboy withdrew a folded scrap of paper. “From the lady,” he said as he thrust it into Rafe’s hand. “She liked the peppermint sticks, I think.”
“The lady?” Diana echoed, brows arched above the rims of her spectacles in interest. “Peppermint sticks?”
A consolation gift he’d sent along with Dannyboy to Emma earlier. Rafe cleared his throat. “Dannyboy, this is my sister, Diana, and her daughter, Hannah. They don’t need to know any of my business.” He shoved the note into his pocket.
“And what do I do if they ask?” Dannyboy inquired. “They got no bollocks to kick.”
Hannah gave a little titter, muffled behind her hand.
“You tell them,” Rafe said, “that it’s none of their business. Because it isn’t.” He slanted Diana a severe look, warning her away from pressing any further. “Dannyboy acts as a messenger for me from time to time,” he said. “And as it happens, he has concluded his business for the day and will be on his way home.”
“Soon as ye pay me, guv.” Dannyboy placed his hands on his hips, puffing his chest out as far as it would go, which was not very, given the bagginess of his shirt. He caught the half-crown that Rafe tossed to him, shoved it into the depths of his pocket, and turned to dart off without so much as a goodbye.
Hannah shouted after him, “Goodbye, Dannyboy! I hope I see you again soon!”
∞∞∞
“An improvement,” Chris said, glancing around as he slipped into the chair opposite Rafe’s in the far corner of a tavern at the edge of St. Giles. “Though not much o’ one.”
Chris had found fault with every tavern they’d visited since they’d attracted too much attention at what had once been their regular meeting place. “I’ve been too busy poring over books in the hopes of finding the key to the cipher to devote much time to finding a tavern which might meet with your approval,” Rafe replied sourly. “Perhaps if you’d have restrained your temper until we’d left the tavern, we might not have had the need to find a new one.” He lifted his empty glass, signaling one of the barmaids to bring a fresh round.
Or, at least, as fresh as fresh got in a tavern such as this one.
A dull flush heated Chris’ cheeks, and he hunched over the table, sparing hardly more than a glance at the heavily-pregnant barmaid who delivered their drinks. Once the woman had retreated, he said, in a surly voice, “Brawls aren’t so out o’ the ordinary.”
No, but it was always wisest to avoid notice whenever possible. But the need for a new place to meet had provided an unexpected opportunity, at least in one regard.
“Nothing new, then?” Chris asked, throwing back the amber liquid in the glass before him in one long swallow, wincing at the substandard flavor of it.
“No.” And he had searched the house for whatever bits of Ambrose might have remained within it, jotted down every bit of information he had found, pressed Emma as deeply as he dared for hints of the man she had known her husband to be. None of it had turned up useful, though he’d spent hours and hours in the workings of it all. “And you?”
Chris heaved a sigh and scraped one gloved palm over his jaw. “Em made mention of the journal,” he said. “Publicly. Or at least near enough to it for word to reach my ears.”
Blast. “How did you hear of it?” Rafe asked.
Chris slanted him a chiding look. “I got my sources, don’t I? People treat servants like furniture. A shilling or two placed in the right palm can buyinformation from places my shoes would never be permitted to tread.” His eyes narrowed. “Ye knew already, didn’t ye?”
“Emma made some allusion to it. I had hoped it had been a private conversation.”
“No such luck. At the edge of the bloody dance floor, they were, according to my source. There’s no telling who overheard.”
“Yes, there is,” Rafe said. “Or, at least, there istelling whomighthave overheard. I’ve already asked Diana for a list of those who attended.” He hesitated. “If I can procure such a list, can you make a determination on who upon it might be worth looking into?”
“It’d go quicker to use Home Office resources. Probably got a fair few dossiers on aristocrats; things I’d not be privy to otherwise. Sir Roger would scrounge something up, if we asked.”
Something specific perhaps, and only if he was kept informed. He’d been the man to group the three of them together, Rafe, Chris, and Ambrose, and he’d kept a watchful eye upon them over their years of service. Not that it had turned out to be watchful enough.
Rafe had nursed a grudge over it, though he knew it was not quite rational to do so. After all, none of them had noticed anything amiss in Ambrose until it had been too late. Sir Roger had, to his credit, helped them clean up the mess Ambrose had left in his wake—but his assistance had come at a cost. They had paid it once before, but the price had been dear, and now that they were approaching the end of their service, Rafe was not eager to risk extending it once again.
“Would you truly trust anyone else in this?” Rafe asked quietly. “When even so much as an offhanded comment to the wrong person could prove disastrous?” When they knew, better than any, how little even those closest could be trusted?
And he knew, from the minute flicker of Chris’ lashes, that the answer was no—not even for the convenience. Perhaps he didn’t even trust Rafe much further than this, but at least he had the assurance that they had bothalready sacrificed for Emma’s sake.
“Damn,” Chris said, and he rubbed at the furrow of his brows. “I suppose not.” He lifted his gaze once again. “She’s safe enough,” he said, and though the words had been meant to be firm, instead they had come out almost like a plea for assurance.
As safe as she could be. Even if they had not fully dismantled Ambrose’s network, any remaining conspirators would have to first learn of the journal,and then attempt to retrieve it. It had gone unnoticed for ten years thus far. Probably the threat of discovery was low.
