by Anna Elliott
“Surprised”—James’s voice was dry—“would be putting it mildly. And now, would you mind telling me what in God’s name you were doing there?”
“I followed Major Haliday here,” Susanna said.
“Major Haliday?” James frowned as though with an effort of remembrance. “He’s a friend of Admiral Tremain’s, is that right?”
Susanna nodded. “Yes. He is staying in the Admiral’s house—he and his wife. And I heard him quarrel with his wife, and then saw him creep out of the house tonight, after everyone else was in bed. I thought it suspicious, so I followed.”
“So you followed,” James repeated. “Just like that, without telling anyone where you were going? Without thought of where it might lead you?” He exhaled. “Holy God, Susanna, if I had not been there—”
“If you had not been there, I would have used this.” Susanna reached into her reticule and pulled out the knife she had secured there before leaving the house.
James looked down at her. “A paper knife. You were going to attack a room full of lower-East Side thugs with a paper knife. And you expect me to find this comforting?”
Both humor and the impulsive excitement that had carried her this far were fading, leaving Susanna feeling slightly queasy. She managed a small smile for James. “I did not say that I was not glad to see you.” She touched his hand. “I am sorry, James. And I swear I will not take such a thoughtless risk again. But do you not want to see what Major Haliday’s purpose was in coming here? If he had one, that is, besides drinking and gambling.”
James looked as though there were more he would have said. And she could read in his face the internal debate he was holding—whether to bring her back into the pub with him or to leave her alone on the street. Finally he said, “All right. We’ll go inside. But promise me that you’ll stay close to me.”
Inside, the fight had nearly abated. A couple of men still grappled together on the floor, surrounded by a ring of onlookers calling out encouragement and offering wagers on the outcome. But the rest of the customers had returned to their tables to finish their drinks.
James stood in the doorway a moment, his eyes scanning the room. Then he went still, tensing as his gaze settled on a table in a shadowy corner near the stairs to the rooms above.
Susanna followed his glance and saw Major Haliday leaning forward across the table’s scarred wooden surface, apparently deep in conversation with another man.
The other man’s back was to them, and Susanna could see only the outline of the man’s ear, the partial curve of his cheek. But beside her, James drew in a sharp breath and said, “Let’s get out of here.”
He pulled her with him, back out into the street, and started to walk at a brisk pace away from the Blue Fountain.
“James.” Susanna had almost to run to keep up with him. “Who was that—that man meeting with Major Haliday. Oughtn’t you to try to follow him?”
James shook his head. “No use. I already know who he is—and where he’s likely to go after this.”
“You do? How?” Susanna asked.
James frowned, as though trying to decide how much to tell her. But finally he said, “I don’t know how much of the other night’s conversation with Philippe and the rest of his charming confederates you overheard?”
“Nearly everything, I think.”
“Well, then, you may remember Philippe commissioning a man called Ormond to collect a message.”
“I do remember,” Susanna said. “Philippe said it would be in ‘the usual spot.’”
“Right.” James’s eyes were scanning the street ahead, and he glanced behind them frequently, too. There seemed no sign of danger, though, no hint that anyone had followed them from the Blue Fountain, and his shoulders relaxed a fraction before he went on. “I had not so far been able to learn where ‘the usual spot’ was. You saw for yourself—Philippe is rather hesitant to trust me. But I was able to learn where Ormond lives. He has a miserable little room in a second-rate boarding house in Whitechapel. Tonight, I waited outside his lodgings, and when he went out, I followed him. He went to the Blue Fountain. And that was him, sitting with your Major Haliday.”
Susanna drew in her breath. “Then Major Haliday is the traitor.”
“It looks that way.” James was frowning.
“It must be he.” Susanna turned. “James, we have done it. We have discovered the traitor. That means your mission is over.”
Relief made her almost lighthearted. But James shook his head. “The job is not over, Susanna. We have no proof of Major Haliday’s guilt. Until I can hand him over to the proper authorities—and round up Philippe and all that lot besides—the mission’s still on.”
And that meant James would continue to play his dangerous game. Susanna felt a chill trickle its way across the back of her neck, but she said, “Well, we shall just have to get proof, that is all.” She looked up at James. “Will you take me back to your house in Russell Square? That way we can discuss what is best to be done.”
James looked down at her a long moment, his face unreadable in the moonlight. And then quite suddenly he laughed, drawing her towards him. His hands cupped her face and his lips brushed hers. “I suppose there are some advantages to having found a girl who is so utterly without fear.” He murmured the words against her lips. “If you had not come to the Blue Fountain, I would not have seen you tonight.”
Susanna’s arms went round his neck and she pulled him closer, kissing him again, more deeply. “You see?” she whispered. “I knew you would come to see it my way.”
A raucous whistle and call from somewhere nearby made them break apart, and Susanna turned to see a couple of sailors watching from across the road. One of them hooted and called out something in a cockney accent so broad Susanna could scarcely make out the words.
“What did he say?” Susanna asked James. “I couldn’t understand.”
“That,” James said, “is just as well. Come on, we’ll go back to Russell Square, as you said.” He started up the street, drawing Susanna with him. “I suppose at least as long as I keep you within sight, I can be sure that you are not running into danger again.”
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Susanna’s fingers were nearly numb with cold by the time they reached Russell Square. James had wrapped an arm around her, sheltering her under his greatcoat, but she was still shivering, and could think of little besides getting inside before a warm fire.
James stopped abruptly, though, as they reached the front steps of the house. Susanna felt his muscles tense and his head lifted alertly. He pressed her hand, warning her to silence.
And then, so suddenly that she had no time even to scream, a man’s shadowy form, swift and terrible as some silent bird of prey, rushed at them from out of the darkness.
Susanna was pushed—either by James or his attacker, it was impossible to tell—to one side. She stumbled on the uneven cobblestones and felt herself falling.
The rest was broken images, like a lantern slide show: a knife blade, glittering in the moonlight; James and the attacker, grappling together; James’s hand about the other man’s throat.
And then Susanna’s head struck the pavement with a blow that snapped her teeth together and the world exploded in a shower of fiery sparks.
Chapter 14
“Susanna . . . My God, Susanna.”
Susanna opened her eyes to find James bending over her. There was just light enough to see that his face was starkly pale and taut.
As her lids lifted, she heard his sharp intake of breath. “Thank God. Are you all right?”
Susanna struggled to sit up, though a sharp throb from the back of her head made her wince. “I think so.” She put up an exploratory hand and felt a lump already forming just behind her ear. But that seemed to be the only source of pain. “I must have hit my head when I fell. But what happened? That man—did you catch him?”
James shook his head. His voice
was flat, emotionless. “No, he got away. I knocked the knife out of his hand”—he gestured to where it lay, a little distance away, on the pavement—“and then he took to his heels and ran.”
“And you did not go after him?”
James’s eyebrows tilted. “And leave you lying here? For all I knew, bleeding to death?”
His voice was still curt and his face had turned shuttered, expressionless and stony.
Susanna made another effort to sit up, ignoring the throb of her head, the lurch in the pit of her stomach. “Are you angry with me?”
“Angry with you?” James’s eyes registered shock; at least she had got that much show of emotion out of him. “Why should I be angry with you?”
“Because my being here makes things harder for you. Because if it were not for me, you might have gone after him—might have caught the man who attacked us.”
James rubbed the space between his eyes. “I’m not sure I would have caught up with him in any case. He ran like the wind.”
“Still—” Susanna began.
James cut her off. “Let’s get inside the house.” His expression was no less hard, but his touch was very gentle as he bent and lifted her into his arms.
“James, I can walk,” Susanna protested.
He did not put her down, though. Not until they were inside the house did James finally set her down on the library sofa where he had slept the night before.
Silently, he crossed to the mantle, found tinder and matches, and lighted the room’s lamps. And then, still without speaking, he came back to kneel beside Susanna at the end of the couch.
He smoothed the loosened hair back from her forehead, running his fingers lightly over the back of her head until he found the lump as Susanna had done.
Light as his touch was, Susanna flinched, and James said, breaking the silence, “I’m sorry. You ought to have a doctor.”
“And have to explain to a doctor what exactly I was doing here in the middle of the night? Or how I came to be knocked over in the street? No, I’m not going to risk it, James—I won’t endanger you further by letting anyone know that you and I are acquainted. And besides, I do not need a doctor. It’s only a bump on the head. I’m quite all right.”
James had half turned, starting to rise, but Susanna caught his hand, holding him in place. She laid her other palm against his cheek. “I am quite all right, James,” she said again.
For a long moment, James’s gaze met hers. She was not sure he even meant to reply. But at long last he let out his breath. “I am angry—but not with you. I am angry with myself. I ought not to have brought you into danger tonight—”
Susanna tightened her fingers around his. “I make my own choices. I wanted to come here. Despite the danger. I told you that already.”
James was silent another long moment, eyes dark on hers. But then he exhaled again and gave a short nod of acknowledgement.
Susanna felt herself relax. “Have you any idea who the attacker was?” she asked. “Or why he was here?”
James pinched the bridge of his nose. “Susanna—”
In the same moment, Susanna had already answered her own question. “Oh, God, James. Last night—you thought you heard someone following us. You must have been right. Someone followed you—us—from here to my aunt’s house. One of Philippe’s gang, it must have been. They must have been watching you. And then they saw me come here. Saw us—”
She stopped, feeling sick with the realization. “James, this was my fault. My fault entirely if I have made Philippe suspect you.”
“Philippe already suspected me,” James said. He rubbed his forehead again. “It does make for an unpleasantly convincing syllogism. But it was not your fault. You cannot blame yourself.”
Susanna still felt coldly ill. “Who should I blame, then?”
James gave her a brief, one-sided smile. “How about me? Weren’t you saying that I ought to have told you the truth about this mission from the first?”
Despite herself, Susanna felt her lips curve in a small, answering smile. “Well, so you ought.” She drew in her breath, trying to push back the fear that filled her. “What do you intend to do?”
James’s brows rose; he looked startled again. But he said, after a moment’s pause, “Susanna, you have a greater acquaintance with Major Haliday than I do. If we could arrange a meeting—somewhere I could get him on his own—is he the sort of man to be frightened into speaking, would you say?”
Susanna nodded slowly. “I think he is. He is greedy, self-serving. And he drinks a great deal. I do not think his nerves are too steady. And I know where you can meet him, as well. Tomorrow night, we are to attend the fireworks display at Vauxhall Gardens. If we can find a way to get Major Haliday away from the rest of the party and on his own . . .”
James nodded. “I am sure it can be arranged. Tomorrow night it is, then. Susanna—” He was silent, frowning down at the carpet, and Susanna sensed that he was searching for words. Finally he looked up. “You are not going to try to persuade me to give up the mission? Even knowing that my real identity is suspected?”
“Would it do any good if I did try to persuade you to stop?” Susanna’s whole body still felt cold to the core of her bones, but she traced the curve of James’s cheekbones with her fingertips. Her voice came out an unsteady whisper and she swallowed. “If I want you to allow me to make my own choices, to run my own risks, I suppose I must do the same for you.”
She saw a shadow of something like regret or even sadness cross James’s eyes. It was such an unaccustomed look for him that Susanna’s heart clenched a little. But she stopped him, even as he opened his mouth to speak, wrapping her arms around him, resting her forehead against the crook of his neck. “No. You don’t have to say anything. I understand why you must do this. Just promise me that you will be careful.”
James’s arms closed around her, solid and strong. She felt the warmth of his breath stir her hair. “I promise.”
Susanna closed her eyes—and tried to ignore the whispered voice in her mind. The one that said Cameron Benson would likely have promised the same to those he loved, before he took the mission that had cost him his life.
She let herself rest in the circle of James’s arms another moment. And then she raised her head. “Have you been to Vauxhall? Do you know of a good meeting place?”
James tilted his brows upwards. “Why?”
“Because I can help you—I can ensure that Major Haliday is at an appointed spot at a particular time so that you can speak with him.”
James started to shake his head. “Susanna—”
“James, I can help. You need my help. How else are you going to get Major Haliday alone? He already knows you as Jacques de Castres—which means you cannot simply knock on his door and demand to know whether he is a spy. Not without turning any suspicions Philippe has of you into absolute certainty. If you speak to him, you will have to be anonymous, disguised. Which means that you will need someone to get Major Haliday to an isolated spot where you can interrogate him.”
James still looked as though he were about to argue. Susanna took his hand, lacing her fingers with his. “There is no danger to me in doing this. Now think—tell me where would be a good meeting place.”
James was still frowning, but he did consider a moment. Then: “There’s the Lover’s Walk.”
“The Lover’s Walk?” Susanna raised her eyebrows.
James gave her a brief, wry smile. “Yes, it’s just about what you would imagine. A kind of long alley, all enclosed by trees, and very dark. Just the place for illicit lovers. But I suppose it would serve our purpose just as well. There’s a kind of grove with a statue of Milton in it, all ringed round by trees and shrubbery. Hardly anyone ever goes there.”
“All right. I will bring Major Haliday to the Lover’s Walk at—what hour would be best? Midnight? I think Miss Fanny said that the fireworks are set off t
hen—which would make us less likely to be interrupted, if everyone is busy watching the display.”
James nodded—but the expression on his face was one Susanna could not read.
“James?” Her tone made it a question.
James made a smothered sound that was almost a laugh and ran his hands down his face. “I’m either a genius or deserve to be shut up in Bedlam for involving you in this plan.”
“There is no danger,” Susanna insisted. “Not from Major Haliday. And besides, you will be there.”
“I’m sending the woman I love into the most notorious part of Vauxhall Gardens with another man—a man who is almost certainly a traitor and a spy.” James’s voice was grim. “Oh, yes. You may be sure that I will be there.”
Chapter 15
Susanna felt horribly exposed stepping out from the Russell Square house and back into the street. The back of her neck prickled, and her stomach clenched as she looked round, seeming to see lurking figures in every patch of shadow.
But as she had told James, she could not risk anyone’s noticing she was gone from her room in Admiral Tremain’s house. She had to be back inside before the servants were up and about.
James, too, was tense as they crossed Russell Square and started back towards the Tremain house. He kept one hand on the pistol he had slipped into his pocket before they left. But nothing occurred. The attacker had evidently been frightened off for the night, and they encountered only an elderly flower seller shuffling along with her basket of wilted violets.
When they reached their destination, James drew to a halt in a patch of deeper shadow cast by the house next door to Admiral Tremain’s. He said in a half-whisper, “I don’t suppose you happened to leave a useful length of rope dangling out you window? No? A length of knotted sheet?”
Susanna gave James a look. Though she supposed he had a point. When she had followed Major Haliday out, she had not spared a thought for how she was to get back in.
Of course the injustice was that Major Haliday, being a man, could walk straight in the front door without anyone’s blinking an eye over his having been abroad in the city at night. Whereas if anyone happened to see Susanna come in—