And he knew.Hortense.“What time should I arrive?” It would be mortifying if he sounded half as eager as he felt.
“Half past seven should do.”
Long after Nick was gone, Jamie thought about the look in his brother’s eyes as he’d spoken those words of parting. For it had definitely beena look. What had he revealed to his too observant brother?
Just now, Nick called out from the opposite end of the room. “Would you care for a brandy, brother?”
There Nick stood, at the drinks cart, decanter in hand. Every cell in Jamie’s body screamedyes. “No,” he said firmly and felt the usual tremor in his hand. The mention of spirits tended to have that effect.
Nick stoppered the decanter without pouring one for himself. Relief traced through Jamie. He hadn’t relished the idea of watching Nick savor a snifter of amber oblivion.
Finished with their Sir Bacon japes, Geoffrey and Lavinia had cleared the gaming table of Geoffrey’s knife collection and were already engaged in a competitive game of backgammon.
Now it was only the four adults. Jamie waited as Nick took a seat in the chair opposite the settee, done in the same blue damask. He had a question to ask. One that had been plaguing him these last few hours, since Nick’s visit. And with Nick and Hortense occupying the same room, he mustn’t miss his chance. “How did the two of you meet?”
It was a simple question, really. Except the look that passed between Nick, Hortense, and Mariana wasn’t simple at all.
“Oh, I do love this story,” said Mariana. “But, Hortense, it is yours to tell. And only if you like.”
Jamie’s instinct was to take his words back, even as curiosity burned inside him, for he sensed her hesitation. Still…how had she come to be a spy for his brother?
Just when he’d accepted she wouldn’t answer, she spoke. “I was attempting to pick his pocket.”
Jamie caught his jaw before it hit the floor. “You were a pickpocket?”
“Amongst other talents,” she said, dry as desert sand.
“Where was this?” Now that the dam had been breached, he wanted every detail.
She glanced at Nick. “Piccadilly, wasn’t it?”
Nick nodded.
“My fingers had just latched on to that shiny gold pocket watch of his,” she continued, “when a hand clamped around mine like an iron band.”
“And?” Jamie’s jaw tensed.
“And she exclaimed—Mon dieu!—in perfectly inflected French,” Nick said. “And I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“She was no ordinary guttersnipe.”
Guttersnipe…which meant she would have been young.Veryyoung. “How many years had you?”
“I’d just reached my fourteenth year.”
“And where did the French come from?” He’d been wondering this since the night they’d met.
She gave a one-shoulder shrug. “It is part of my past.”
He sensed falsity in both gesture and words. It meant something that she spoke French.
“How did you come to be a pickpocket?” he asked, but he knew the answer before he’d finished the question. It had to do with where they were going at ten of the clock tomorrow night. Where they would find his son.
“Another part of my past,” she responded, and the moment held for a few beats of time.
“And that is quite enough of the interrogation portion of the evening,” said Mariana. “Come, Hortense, I would like to show you the new book of botanical illustrations I recently purchased. This one flower from Amazonia matches the blue of your eyes perfectly.”
