Chapter 11 #2
“It’s an educated guess,” he said. “You were unnerved; he’s here. Why wouldn’t you ring him? Apart from the fact that he’s an utter ass.”
She laughed a little, because it was either that or start shivering. “He wanted me to come wait in his back room until he was finished with a megadeal.”
“He was probably selling fake spoons,” Derrick said with a snort. He put his phone near her plate. “There you are.”
She sat back down, because it seemed a handy way to ignore how badly her knees were shaking.
“Just start typing,” he said. “It’s untraceable, so you’d best identify yourself.”
“What should I tell him?”
“What did you tell him before?”
She took a deep breath. “That I was being followed.”
“Then tell him you were imagining things.”
“He already thinks I’m crazy,” she said, “so this won’t worsen my reputation with him.”
She started to type, really she did, but after the third time she dropped the phone, Derrick took it away and finished. He held it toward her.
“Sufficient?”
“You make me sound so composed.”
“I’ll put more smileys in, if you like.”
“More exclamation points. He’ll expect that.”
Derrick smiled, edited, then sent it. He looked at her and his smile faded. “Now your contact here.”
She returned his look. “Don’t you know that, too?”
“I can try to guess.”
“Go ahead.”
He considered for a minute or two, then typed in a number and showed it to her. She was unsettled, that was the only reason she had to go get her notebook and double-check. She looked at him and felt herself go cold.
“That’s the guy.”
“It’s what he does for a living.”
“Nice living.”
“Very,” he agreed. “When were you supposed to contact him?”
“Tomorrow.”
He frowned thoughtfully. “Let’s do this.
Why don’t you tell him you were delayed on the journey south and you won’t be able to meet him for another couple of days.
Then we’ll text Lydia Cooke and tell her that you’ve lost your phone and you’re borrowing one from a very nice man who said he’s a detective inspector for Scotland Yard.
I think I can safely guarantee she won’t push the issue. ”
“That’s devious.”
“Too much time with the criminal element,” he said with a sigh. “I fear it’s rubbed off. Now, what shall we say to the broker?”
“You make it up. I’ll be thinking about Lydia.”
And the things she was thinking weren’t at all nice.
She could hardly believe that the Cookes could be crooks, but what else was she to believe?
She supposed Derrick Cameron could have been the master thief who was just trying to convince her of things that couldn’t possibly be true so he could get his hands on that lace himself.
That would have explained his rather elaborate actions at present.
But that didn’t explain the sword wound in his shoulder.
He finally set his phone aside and looked at her. He blinked in surprise when he apparently realized she’d been watching him.
“What?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Who are you?”
“No one of importance,” he said.
She didn’t believe that, but she wasn’t sure how to say as much.
He looked at her seriously. “Your brother found the job for you?”
She nodded. “I was supposed to come over last summer, but I couldn’t get away.” She paused, because it was too ridiculous to tell him how locked down she’d been. “I came this year instead.”
“Did he know what he was getting you into when he sent you to the Cookes, do you think?”
She looked at him in shock, then she laughed. “Gavin? Are you kidding? He couldn’t even get himself into Harvard. There is absolutely no conceivable way he could think up something like this.”
Derrick smiled, a very small smile that was rather charming, all things considered.
She had no reason to like him—in fact, she didn’t like him at all—but she had to admit he was just too handsome for his own good.
Or for her peace of mind. But that was okay, because she had no intentions of having anything to do with him longer than it took to bid him a swift good night after supper, bar her door, then hopefully check out early in the morning before she got stuck with the bill.
Derrick considered. “It is always surprising how the criminal mind works.”
“Gavin’s mind is too vapid for criminal activity. His ACT scores were abysmal.”
“And yours weren’t.”
She started to say that no, they absolutely weren’t, but she realized he was looking at her with not quite a smirk but definitely the faintest of lights in his eye that said he knew more about her than she would be comfortable with.
“Do you have my grades memorized as well?”
“Haven’t had time,” he said easily, “and actually I hadn’t had time to dig up your test scores, either, if that eases you any. I’m just guessing. And despite your brother’s thick head, it is entirely possible that he could be involved in things he shouldn’t be. But let’s hope not.”
She wasn’t overly fond of her brother, but she hoped not as well. “What now?”
“We get the lace first, then we figure out whom the Cookes were selling it to, then we put them all in jail.”
“I don’t think I want to be a part of this.”
“I imagine you don’t, but I also think you’re safer with me than on your own.”
“Where’d you learn to fence?”
He opened his mouth, then shut it. “Here and there.”
“Most people learn to fence as part of an acting degree.”
“Most do.”
“Did you?”
He rubbed his hands together. “It’s getting late.”
“And I’m getting under your skin,” she said, feeling rather pleased.
“Yes, you are.” He nodded toward the bedroom she’d been using. “I think we should sleep for a couple of hours, at least, but no more. I would like to be at the Globe well before dawn and back home before sunrise.”
“And then what?” she asked lightly. “You go to Castle Hammond and I go either to jail or the graveyard?”
He looked at her steadily. “We’ll work that out when we get back. But I don’t leave women unprotected, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“How chivalrous.”
“Up north, we call it honor.”
That was hard to argue with. It was also hard to argue the ridiculous notion of time travel, but since the man across from her was the only thing that seemed even remotely stable in a world that had suddenly gone absolutely insane, she supposed she would just have to take his word for it.
She nodded, because that was the best she could do, collected her backpack and bag, then took herself off to her extremely luxurious bedroom and locked the door behind her.
She set everything down on the floor, then looked at what Emily had purchased apparently for her.
It was, unsurprisingly enough, all effortlessly chic and not a square inch of it was made of rayon or polyester.
Her mother would have had a fit if she’d seen it.
She checked the door one more time, then decided to just trust that she would wake up still in one piece.
She left the vase on the dresser.
· · ·
She woke up in one piece, but still in the dark.
She fumbled for the clock and found that it was not quite three A.M. Maybe Derrick had been making noise in the sitting room, determined to hold to his idea of walking along the Thames in the dark.
She opted for a robe over her silk pajamas on the off chance he thought it would be better to go looking in the daylight and she might get to go back to bed, then left her room.
The sitting room was as she’d left it, but his bedroom door was open. She picked up a handful of grapes on her way by the table, then walked quietly over to the open doorway.
She frowned. Either he had company, or those were moans of pain. She considered, then flicked on the light.
He was facedown on the floor. She was relieved to find he had at least passed out before he’d had the chance to get his jeans off, though she supposed she shouldn’t have been happy that he was only semiconscious. She hastened over to peer down at him.
Wow, was the Ritz going to have to replace some carpet.
She would have panicked completely, but she could see that the blood had come from his shoulder. How that was better, she didn’t know, but she supposed it was. She put her hand on his back and winced. He was burning up.
It took her several tries before she managed to get him over onto his back.
She patted his face, which only made him groan softly.
She considered, then slapped him smartly.
He sat partway up, cursing as he did so, then looked at her.
It took him several blinks before he managed to focus on her.
Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell back over.
She knelt down next to his head and suppressed the urge to wring her hands.
What in the world was she going to do now?
There was no possible way she could call her brother.
He would wonder what she was doing in a fancy hotel room with someone she didn’t know, which would lead to all kinds of questions she wasn’t going to want to answer.
She jumped when she felt Derrick’s hand groping her. He took hold of her arm and looked up at her. His eyes were crossed, but she imagined that in his current condition, it didn’t bother him.
“Phone,” he rasped. “Sunny.”
“Who’s Sunny?”
“Cousin.”
Well, she had no idea what a cousin could do for him, but since he was trying to get himself into a sitting position she didn’t suppose she could argue. She looked around for his phone, found it, then brought it back and knelt down next to him.
“On . . .”
She found the on button, then watched as he fumbled for it and pressed his thumb against the screen. Of course she memorized that. She was a good memorizer, as it happened, and one never knew when a little detail like that would come in handy.
She found his contacts, then scrolled through them until she found an entry for Sunny.
A man’s voice answered after only a couple of rings. “I don’t know very many private callers who would dare ring me in the middle of the night. Who’s this?”
“Um, I’m calling for Derrick Cameron,” Samantha said hesitantly. “There’s been an accident.”
The reply was brisk and businesslike. “What sort?”
“He was, ah, stabbed by a sword in the shoulder. He said for me to call Sunny.”
“Where are you?”
“At the Ritz.”
“Oh, aye, I knew that. Very well, we’ll be there in a few minutes. Is he bleeding heavily?”
Samantha thought that it was entirely possible that she was currently having the weirdest conversation of her life. And given the things she had experienced over the past three days, that was saying something.
“Well, the carpet will need to be cleaned,” she said.
“What sort of sword was it?” the man asked.
Samantha closed her eyes briefly. “An Elizabethan rapier.”
There was silence on the other end for a moment or two. “Who are you, lass?”
“Samantha Drummond.” She paused. “He thought I stole his piece of lace.”
“Did you?”
“No, but I was inadvertently carrying it with me.” She paused. “It’s complicated.”
The man made a noise that was a bit like a snort. “It always is. We’ll be there as quickly as we can.”
“I think he would appreciate it.”
She hung up, then simply sat down on the floor next to Derrick and wished she had at least some first-aid skills. She considered putting a pillow under his head but was afraid that might give him a kink in his neck. She settled for a blanket draped over him. No sense in his catching a chill.
It took longer than she feared for a knock to sound on the door. She jumped up and ran into the other room to open it. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but a couple in jeans with a baby wasn’t it. The man looked her over quickly and efficiently, then held out his hand.
“Robert Cameron. I’m Derrick’s cousin. This is my wife Sunshine. Sunny, this is Samantha Drummond.”
Samantha tried not to gape. That was the Countess of Assynt and her husband standing there.
Well, coming inside the room, really. She shut the door behind them, then followed them over to Derrick’s bedroom.
Robert Cameron then made noises of disapproval as he pulled away the blood-soaked cloth wrapped around Derrick’s arm.
He muttered something half under his breath that sounded remarkably like Gaelic, only spoken with an accent she had never heard before. He looked up at his wife.
“Think you can heal this wee fool here?”
She handed him the baby, then took his place on the floor at Derrick’s side. Samantha looked at Lord Robert.
“I didn’t realize it was that bad,” she said helplessly. “I mean, the whole thing’s kind of strange, don’t you think? That someone would poke at him with a sword?”
Lord Robert exchanged a brief glance with his wife, then looked at her with a smile.
“Strange happenings in the world sometimes, wouldn’t you say?”
Samantha let out a shaky breath. “After this week, I would have to agree.” She looked at Sunshine Cameron pulling things out of a backpack she hadn’t realized she had been wearing, then turned back to her husband. “Is there anything I can do?”
He shook his head. “Honestly, I think the best thing you could do is just go back to bed. He’ll be fine by the morning. Sleep as long as you like. I’ll keep watch.”
She studied him. “Are you really the Earl of Assynt?”
“To my continued surprise, I find that I am.”
“I was just curious,” she said slowly. “I’m not sure who to trust. I think I trust him”—she nodded at Derrick—“but he’s currently unconscious. But if you’re his cousin . . .”
He smiled. She couldn’t say he looked exactly like Derrick, but there was obviously a family resemblance. Something about the eyes, maybe.
“Not to worry, Miss Drummond. You can sleep in peace.”
She nodded, turned, then turned back slightly. “There’s nothing I can do?”
The Earl of Assynt shook his head. “I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
She nodded, then walked back to her bedroom and shut the door behind her. She wasn’t sure she would sleep, but found that it was impossible to stay awake.
A man who had lifted a sword to defend her. Another man who had been completely unsurprised to find the first man had been wounded by an Elizabethan sword.
She wondered just what she’d gotten herself into.