“Oh, well…” William mumbled the rest of the sentence into his drink.
Alex leaned forward in his chair. “What’s that?”
“Ahem…well, I’m not entirely sure.” He grimaced, mentally congratulated himself for the affectation, and hurried his explanation. “My man in China, he didn’t give a description exactly. He mentioned something vague…something about ‘unusual.’”
“Unusual?”
“Likely the word was lost in translation.”
Alex swore, squirmed a little more, then took a deep breath and a deeper drink.
“For Crown and country then,” he finally grunted, clearly unimpressed with either institution. “I suppose I ought to find a way to have myself introduced to our unusual old maid.”
“No need. I’ve arranged to have Loudor’s carriage delayed en route to the docks. Miss Everton will be taking a delightful trick hack one of our engineers designed. Very clever young man. Just be at the corner of Firth and Whitelow at five o’clock this evening. Bring Whittaker if you like. He’s likely already met Loudor and can help smooth the way, so to speak.”
Alex shook his head. “I don’t want Whit to go. He should never have gotten involved with your department to begin with.”
“Too late on both accounts. We needed his connections on that last bit of business, and he already knows you’re meeting with me today. There’ll be no avoiding him. Best to give him something useful to do or he’ll take it into his head to do so on his own.”
Alex jerked a nod and handed his empty glass back to William. “You’re certain Prinny knows nothing of this?”
“Quite sure. Our illustrious Prince Regent is entirely in the dark on this matter.”
Two
Three hours after her interview with Mr. Smith, Sophie found herself standing on her homeland for the first time in twelve years.
It’s possible she would have been a bit more excited by the notion if she wasn’t still standing on the dock, in a drizzle, pressed tightly between the overprotective persons of Mrs. Summers and Mr. Wang. Their luggage had been piled neatly off to one side and Sophie fought the urge to sit down on one of the sturdy trunks. Where was Lord Loudor, or, if he had been unavoidably detained, then where was his carriage? The other passengers had long since made their way into the city.
She let out a long, exaggerated sigh. She’d been pressing her companions to hire a public hackney, but Mrs. Summers insisted on waiting.
“Lord Loudor will be along any minute now with a reasonable excuse and apologies for his tardiness,” Mrs. Summers had explained. “A public hack is not a suitable means of conveyance for a young lady.”
After forty-five minutes of listening to these and an assortment of other excuses, Sophie stopped asking, and took up making varied sounds of disgruntlement. She sighed, she grumbled, she even hmphed for good mea sure.
Finally, after listening to Sophie tap her foot loudly for several minutes, Mrs. Summers caved. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Sophie! Have it your way!”
Sophie beamed at her friend as Mr. Wang took off to enlist the help of a dock worker. In a surprisingly short time, the three were comfortably installed in the hack.
“This is so much better,” Sophie sighed. “How fortunate we were able to secure a hack so quickly. It makes up, I suppose, for Lord Loudor’s absence.”
Her chaperone frowned disapprovingly. Tall, rail thin, and with striking angular features, Mrs. Summers had all the appearances of a hawk, a look she occasionally enhanced by affecting a matching demeanor. Sophie knew her too long and too well, however, to be fooled. Mrs. Summers’s stern countenance hid an open mind and a generous heart.
Perfectly comfortable with her chaperone’s censure, Sophie returned the scowl with a smile. “Roomy,” she commented, “and decidedly well padded.”
The brown leather on the benches extended up all four walls and even onto the ceiling. Glancing down, she noticed even the floor held a thin layer of cushion.
“How very odd.”
The carriage started with a jerk, and soon she was too entranced by the passing scenery to dwell on the unusual interior of her transportation. Street after street rolled by. London was loud, dirty, overcrowded, and positively wonderful.
She was vaguely aware of Mrs. Summers speaking, but it was several minutes before she could pull her attention from the window long enough to focus on what was being said.
“…We’ve left the waterfront district, which, young lady, you shall not under any circumstances venture into again. In a moment, if you look out to your left, we’ll pass…Well, for…Why on earth are we turning here?”
Mr. Wang craned his neck slightly to peer out the window. “Where, exactly, is ‘here’?”