Entirely unexpectedly, he saw Princess Olga and his wife exiting the Salon together in casual frocks just as he passed by.
Sadie did not look relaxed and happy like most women did after receiving high-end beauty treatments. He saw her fingernails had been freshly buffed and her hands had the sheen of lotion of them. Her mouth was tight though, and her cheeks looked wind-chapped.
“Ladies,” Les said, bowing his head.
“Mr. Rake,” Olga said in an imperious tone.
He turned to his wife. “Would you allow me the pleasure of escorting you to dinner? I haven’t seen you all day.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. At least her gaze didn’t leave his face. She didn’t turn to the Russian princess for guidance. But then, her shoulders slumped as she nodded. “I suppose we should speak.”
He nodded to the other woman. “Your Serene Highness.” He took his wife’s arm and turned her around, then steered her toward the Grand Russe’s opulent Restaurant. Sadie turned her head back and mouthed something in the Russian’s direction.
She was silent at his side, not even responding to the derision in the maître d’s eyes when Les asked for a table for him and a woman not dressed for the location. They were seated discreetly out of the view of most diners, behind a moveable Russian pine and fabric screen that probably kept tables with dangerous liaisons hidden from the more proper guests. Sadie seemed willing to say nothing and simply wait for their food. She kept her gaze on the dancer’s image painted on the screen, his face half hidden under a turban overlaid with feathers.
“I’ll order for us,” he suggested, and she did nothing but incline her head.
Twenty minutes later, they had finished off a plate of stuffed mushrooms, and their main course of beef with Yorkshire Pudding and roasted potatoes was in front of them.
“Princess Olga has been very kind to you,” Les said as he picked up his knife.
“Alecia has been too busy caring for Mrs. Plash to see me for more than a few minutes,” Sadie said.
“Do you want to explain why you left?” Les cut into his beautifully marbled meat, but couldn’t summon up the hunger to take a bite.
“As if you don’t know.” She popped a tiny potato, dotted with rosemary, into her mouth.
“I saw our marriage papers are missing from the room,” he stated. “But you are still wearing your rings.”
She finished chewing and set her utensils down. “Are we really married, Les? Or has this been a sick game all along?”
“Sometimes we make hard decisions for the good of the country,” he said.
“You don’t look well,” she commented. “What is this life costing you?”
“We must protect England from the Bolsheviks,” he said. “Look how close the danger came to us. Ovolensky tried to abduct you.”
“Why does it bother you? I’m not really your wife.”
“You are mine.” The words startled him, as did the guttural tone that had come from his throat.
She looked surprised as well, and set down her water goblet without drinking. “Your what?”
She might be young, but she was tough. “My wife. How do you plan to prove otherwise?”
“The seal is a forgery. Olga said so.”
His training kept his expression neutral. That bloody princess. She’d caught them out. “You trust her over me?”
Her sardonic smile was older than her years. “I can’t imagine why.” When she picked up her glass again, she drank deeply.
He let her cut into her meat before he spoke again. “We’ll sort it all out. I understand you don’t want to stay in the hotel while the Russians are in residence. Unfortunately, they are here for another couple of months. I’ll move back to the flat as soon as I can. Why don’t you go there?”
“That puts me back into your control.”
“I’ll be here. You still have your position and can save your earnings. That gives you freedom. Why not stay in a nice flat? You can’t be comfortable on someone’s lumpy sofa in a boarding house.”
“I was comfortable with you, sleeping with my head on your shoulder.” Her sad gaze singed his.
His own eyes burned. “I never wanted to hurt you, Sadie. You saved my life. I care about you more than I ever thought I could.”
Sadie pushed her plate away. She’d eaten two bites of meat at best, not enough to keep an active girl well fed. “I told Olga I’d meet her in the Coffee Room as soon as we were finished.”
“I’ll go with you.” He wiped his mouth and set his napkin beside his plate.
“You haven’t eaten.”
“Neither have you. Pull your plate back. Ten bites.” He pointed at her fork.
“You as well. You need to keep your strength up.”
“Chewing makes my nose hurt,” he admitted.
“Dip your pudding into the meat juices and eat that,” she advised briskly. “It won’t be so hard to manage.”
He smiled and followed her suggestion. “You always take such good care of me.”
“Men are pitiful,” she muttered, but managed to finish off most of her food before he had swallowed the last of his pudding and steak juices.
He finished off his single glass of wine, mindful that he had a long night ahead behind the microphone. Until the Russians slept, he would not either. “What shall we do now?”
“I told you where I am going.”
“Then I will escort you, Sadie.” He’d decided never to admit their marriage was false. A deceiver to the end. After gesturing a waiter over, he signed their bill to the suite and helped Sadie with her chair. Several other diners noted his damaged face with curiosity and he realized the maître d’ may have been disdainful of his condition, not Sadie’s clothing, when they entered initially.
The Coffee Room was just across the Grand Hall and looked to be full to capacity. The band was playing a fast piece of dance music that made Les’s head pound, but he forced a smile and brought Sadie to the dance floor before she could search for the princess. She didn’t smile, but followed him easily as he led her in the dance, understanding his signals almost before he chose his next step.
“Thank God,” he muttered, as the band finished their song and began a slow waltz tune. He heard a nearby couple mutter in disgust but he was saved by the stately dance. It didn’t jar his head. Sadie had beautiful form in his arms. He could imagine her in a ball gown from the last century, her skirts belled out as he twirled her around.
He felt a tap on his shoulder. “May I?”
Les turned his head and saw Georgy Ovolensky, smirking under his mustache. He pulled Sadie closer. “Not on your life.”
Sadie’s eyes grew wide and he felt her hand tremble. He twirled her away. Ovolensky smiled genially at another couple and the man offered his partner. The Russian pulled her into a smooth grip and began to dance with finesse. The un-partnered man went straight to the bar and ordered a drink, apparently grateful for the respite.
“I’m ready to leave,” Sadie said into his ear.
“We’ve only danced half of two songs.”
She glanced uneasily at the Russian. “It was enough. I don’t want to be here if he is.”
Les agreed, thinking he could have a nap if the chief Russian had left his room. He danced her toward the edge of the floor. “I’ll put you into a taxicab. Please return to our flat instead of going back to the boarding house.”
“Our flat?” she asked.
“Yes, no matter what, darling. I know that you don’t want to stay here and I don’t blame you. I’m sorry our exciting visit to the seventh floor has turned out so badly.”
“You haven’t called me that all night,” she said. “Darling, I mean.”
“You are my darling.” He had stopped dancing, which he hadn’t realized until he was bumped by another couple. “Where is your coat?”
“Oh, there’s Olga. I didn’t see her before.” Sadie waved to the princess, who stood by the tray of food on a sideboard.
Les wondered if she was dining on that food instead of spending her money on a meal. She shouldn’t be too terribly poor, however. As head of the chambermaids, she should be making more than Sadie. Perhaps she had debt from before she took the position. He spotted Sadie’s coat on a chair near the food and picked it up, then approached his wife.
She chatted to Olga while he helped her into her coat.
“Sadie’s things are in my room,” the princess said to him after Sadie explained what he wanted her to do.
“She has the rest of her possessions at our home,” he said. “She’ll be fine. I’m sorry our disagreement impacted you.”
Her gaze upon him was cool. “Is that what you call a forged special license? A disagreement?”
Blasted woman. At least Sadie hadn’t told her he was a spy. “I will sort it out at the Archbishop’s office tomorrow. If we have to remarry, so be it.”
Sadie’s eyes were as cool as Olga’s. But of course, she knew better than to trust him. “I’ll return home for tonight, but thank you, Olga. Have a lovely evening.”
Les put his hand under her elbow and escorted her out, feeling Olga’s gaze stabbing at him as he walked.
* * *
“There you are, Sadie.” Peter Eyre stood up from a battered armchair, his natural grace evident.
Sadie glanced up at the clock in the staff lounge the next morning, her hands frozen on her coat buttons. No, she wasn’t late for her shift. Why was Peter Eyre here? He almost never came down. That thought was interrupted by a banging sound down the hall. “What is going on?”
“A construction project. Nothing to worry about, but stay out of the basement as much as possible today. It’s going to be terribly dusty and dirty.”
“I see.” She hung her coat on her hook.
“One of the chambermaids just took a position as lady’s maid to a guest,” he said. “So you’ll be moving to the fourth floor today.”
“Glory,” Sadie gasped. “Staff turnover is considerable here.”
“Life at the Grand Russe is still shaking out,” he admitted. “We’ve been reopened such a short time.” He batted a piece of dusty spider web from his otherwise immaculate charcoal-gray sleeve.
“I’m happy to be assigned to the fourth floor.”
Eyre pulled out his cigarette case. “What about the seventh? I understand you aren’t staying with us any longer.”
“I’m sure you know what happened with Mr. Ovolensky. I don’t feel safe with Russians hovering in the hallway all hours.”
“I’m sorry I can’t boot them out of the hotel.”
“I understand. They are important guests.”
“I want to.” He pushed an elegant curl off of his forehead. “I’ll find a reason eventually.”
“I hope no one else has to be injured. Poor Les.”
“I know you know who he is,” Peter said softly. “In a way, it’s better that they remain here so that certain people can keep an eye on them.”
She stared at him. “What am I going to do? Les seems to be multiple people.”
He smiled. “There’s a spark there between you. Don’t give up.”
“A spark, maybe, but danger, too.”
“Given who your husband is, don’t you think he reacted the way he did with Ovolensky out of sheer jealousy? He’s unlikely to lose control ordinarily given his training.” He pulled a cigarette out and tapped it on the case.
“I suppose I was somewhat responsible for creating the situation by flirting with Ovolensky. I never suspected he’d try to physically overpower me. I was merely trying to strike up an acquaintance to help.”
“Be careful with these Russians. They are animals.” Eyre smiled briskly. “Now, we’re very busy the next two days. There is a diplomatic lunch taking place the next day in the first floor meeting rooms. The work going on down here today is meant to increase security.”
“Very well.”
“Today, have Olga show you the new floor duties. She’s upstairs already. Then tomorrow I’ll need you to do them double-time, then help on the first floor.”
“Yes, sir.”
Eyre nodded. “Very good. I’m glad we had a word.”
* * *
Les unlocked the door of his flat and walked into the entryway, tired from his long day. He’d shared the findings regarding the smuggling operation at a Special Intelligence operational meeting and men were moving into the docks to keep watch. Early that morning, the Russians had received a telegram with a ship’s name, and had been foolish enough to read it aloud. After the meeting, he’d been forced to meet with Glass and demand that he be furnished with a real special license to marry Sadie.
Glass had laughed merrily at that and refused. So Les had gone to Doctors Commons to obtain one himself. Then he’d gone to Montagu Square and met Sadie’s sister Alecia for the first time. She’d helped him pack Sadie’s belongings, although she only had a couple of minutes free from her duties. He had the brief impression that she was quieter than Sadie in every way, but intelligent and full of hidden, unspoken emotion. Not an easy woman to know in a brief encounter. Back at his flat, he set Sadie’s valise on the floor by the stairs, then went to look for his wife.
His clue as to her whereabouts came when he smelled the rose bath salts hovering in the air by the radiator. He peered into the bathroom.
Sadie had her short curls piled on top of her head, held in place with a navy scarf. It made her blue eyes even bluer, like the color of the Mediterranean Sea as it laps the shore in Nice. She didn’t seem to register him for a moment, then she sat up, pulling her legs in and covering her breasts with her hands.
“Don’t hide yourself from me, Sadie,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the tub, his hands in his overcoat pockets. “I need you.”
Chapter Nineteen
Sadie stared at him but didn’t move her hands. Les wanted to throw off his clothes and join her in the bathtub, but she’d have to invite him first.
“I need you too,” she said. “I’m sad without you, but we aren’t married.”
“I’ll fix everything,” he promised. He took a deep breath of the rose-scented air. Rose wasn’t really a Sadie-smell, she needed something lighter and more agile. Did husbands buy their wives bath salts? “Just give me time to sort out the details. I’m sorry for all the mistakes I made.”
Her eyes were troubled. “Are you? Or were they just part of the job?”
He did his best to project honesty to her. But he spent his life telling lies. How did he even know what the real truth looked like anymore? “You know the answer to that. My work involves deception. But you were never my target, even if you became mixed up in the lies.”
She blinked hard. “It was never about me.”
He’d said it wrong. “Please don’t cry. I couldn’t forget about you, that girl at the inn. When I originally asked you on a date, it was not about my job. In fact, I was meant not to have a date that night.”
“No?” She rolled over and perched her elbows on the edge of the tub, then dropped her chin into her hands.
Thank God. She’d moved closer to him. “Though that changed fast enough, I’m afraid. You were aiding me without realizing it. You were my cover once we came across Semyon Kozyrev.”
“Why?”
“Because you became tangled in my lies, Sadie. Lies I’d told before I ever met you, in an attempt to protect myself.”
“What lies?”
He wanted to run his fingers across the creamy expanse of her shoulders, test the bumps of her spine. “That I was married. I told Semyon I was married because I didn’t want to go in too deep. I’ve never been one of those spies who gets his work done in the bedroom. And he’d offered me a woman, you see.”
“You didn’t want one?”
“No, not from him, a source I was developing. That’s one part of my life I wanted to be pure. I didn’t want to be with a woman I didn’t genuinely care for. Honestly, I never even meant for you and me to become lovers.”
He let one of his hands dip into the tub and skimmed a finger across the bubbles. “I meant to stay away from you, but you are irresistible to me.”
Tears glistened in her eyes. “I don’t want to be hurt anymore. I want life to be simpler.”
“It won’t be,” he warned. “But between us we can be honest. I can promise that. You know the truth, after all. My father married my mother deceptively. He was a spy, too, and she never knew the truth. But you do.”
“Do I?” she asked, rotating her neck from side to side. “It’s always shifting. Even the reason for me working at the Grand Russe.”
“I don’t want you to work there anymore,” he said, realizing it was true. “I want us to start over as soon as I can receive an assignment change.”
“Why?”
“The goal was always for you to become chambermaid on the seventh, but that can’t happen now.”
“I was just promoted to the fourth floor,” she said, a fiery hint of pride in her eyes.
“But you can’t go to the seventh. You’re known to the Russians now. Ovolensky has his eye on you. You’re not really safe in the hotel. Konstantin has seen you in the basement. At least we think it’s him.”
“You had me confused with the Kozyrevs. So many Russians.”
“We should go back to concentrating on them. This London mess was a temporary assignment. Why don’t you give notice tomorrow and I’ll work on my superiors to transfer me north to monitor the Bolshevik agitators.”
She shook her head. “Now you want me to give notice? After all Olga has done for me, after Mr. Eyre continues to promote me?”
She had a face as strong as it was lovely. “Trust me. Your place is with me.”
She allowed him to take one hand in his and lever her upwards, until she stood in the tub.
“Close the door,” she said. “You’re making the room chilly.”
While he was turned away, following orders, she wrapped a towel around herself and pulled the plug from the drain. The water gurgled down as she stepped from the tub.
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