Chapter Twenty-Three #2
“Be careful what you wish for,” Sarita said with a smile, “or I’ll have you entertaining my parents the next time they linger in Oxford.
” She sighed and brushed at the wrinkles in her dress.
“Now that Mr. Kamat has safely left the premises, I think Tweety and I should go have a word with Donald Craddock about summoning the police.”
“And our rooms,” Iris said. “I wouldn’t put it past him to stick us in unused servants’ quarters without a few threats of putting some juicy gossip in The Blue.”
They sailed from the room like avenging angels, and Gin leaned her head on the arm of the settee.
The past two hours had been such a dizzying whirl of revelations that the room still spun.
She smoothed a hand over Sidney’s warm forehead and tried not to panic.
They had found their man, and Leland would surely be in custody soon. There was nothing left to do but wait.
Barely had she closed her eyes when the creak of hinges made them fly open again.
Lewis Hughes entered the room but lingered at the door. “Sorry to bother you, Miss Bishop. I wanted to see if you need help before I return to Oxford.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hughes. I think my friends have the matter well in hand. But I appreciate your assistance earlier.” The inscrutable look on his face, the tension in his posture made Ginevra pause.
The Rook had dismissed Hughes as a curious American, but Sidney’s gut had said otherwise.
If he were awake now, she knew what he would do.
“You asked to speak to me earlier,” she said lightly, “and we were interrupted.”
“Yeah…” Hughes trailed off, glancing into the hall before closing the door, and approached the settee. “Is Mr. Braithwaite going to be okay?”
“I think so.” Gin smoothed the blanket Sarita had thrown over Sidney. “Or he will be, with rest.”
“Is there anyone I can call for you?”
Gin had no idea how to reach Sidney’s family—if he would even want her to contact them.
The person she most needed to speak with was the Rook, but she hadn’t dared leave Sidney’s side yet.
She could only hope one of the undercover agents had informed him of what transpired.
“No. I’ll find the number for Sidney’s parents when we return to Oxford. ”
Hughes squatted beside her, eyeing her gravely.
“I don’t know that returning to school is wise, Miss Bishop.
Until we know Leland is apprehended, I’d feel better knowing you and Mr. Braithwaite were safe here.
As we just witnessed tonight, desperate men are unpredictable.
” He cleared his throat. “As are … amateur agents?”
The knowing look in his eyes made Ginevra’s mouth go dry. “Excuse me?”
“You and Mr. Braithwaite have given me quite a run for my money,” Hughes said, as calmly as though discussing the weather. “For a little while, I thought you two might have killed Mr. Tolliver.”
It was difficult to match the American’s easy manner when Ginevra’s pulse raced faster than the horses in the Royal Ascot, but she forced herself to remain collected. “The librarian? He died of a heart attack, we saw him.”
“We both know that’s not true, Miss Bishop. Otherwise, you two wouldn’t be poking your noses into the matter—breaking into Mr. Tolliver’s house, for instance.”
Ginevra stiffened, a denial on her lips, but she knew Sidney would have held his tongue. She tightened her grip on the edge of his blanket and made herself be patient.
“That kiss at the end of the night made me doubt myself, but it just didn’t line up with what else I’d observed of you two.” Hughes raised an eyebrow. “You’re not sweethearts, right?”
“No,” Gin said quickly—decisively—ignoring the flutter in her chest. She glanced at her partner, willing him to wake up, and floundered after a stratagem to navigate this conversation.
If Hughes knew Tolliver’s death wasn’t natural, then he probably knew quite a bit more.
Sidney would know how to make the American give up information without dropping his own.
Though, she realized with a flare of inspiration, it was rather like the art of society gossip: No one asked the real questions but danced around them with humor and suggestion, circling ever closer to the heart of the matter. And gossip was one of her strengths.
“So are you a private detective?” Gin asked. “Or do you tail people for fun?”
“Detective would be far more fun than the reality. I’m a student, same as you, but a friend asked me to help with a little problem I think we both share.”
“Oh.” Gin feigned surprise. “Do you also struggle to find nylons?”
The corner of Hughes’s mouth twitched. “I understand you might not want to trust me, Miss Bishop, so I’ll put my cards on the table first if that eases your mind.
The United States has eyes everywhere, including the Kremlin, and information keeps turning up over there that originates from an informant at the university. That’s kind of weird, right?”
“Very,” Gin said demurely.