“C’est bon,” Laurent said finally. “Good for you.”
“At least one of us is making it out alive.” Calderone sent Laurent a meaningful look.
“Congratulations.” Delaney’s expression was sullen. “All the best and whatnot. Who is going to take your role as the spymaster of our little ring?”
“I won’t leave the team in the lurch,” Jack promised. “Perhaps one of you would care to put your name forward?”
Laurent shrugged. “If we stamp out the First Flame this time around, we may render ourselves superfluous. Then we will all be happily unemployed. So, what do you want us to do now?”
“Dig into Brompton’s. Find out everything you can about the owners, their finances, and relationships. Look for any possible connections to the First Flame, no matter how seemingly insignificant. We must leave no stone unturned.”
“It is not our first voyage, you know,” Delaney groused.
“In the meantime, I am off to Chancery Lane.” Jack grimaced. “To locate the deed of ownership for Brompton’s manufactory.”
“Clerks and chancery rolls, two things guaranteed to bore a man to death.” Shuddering, Calderone slapped him on the shoulder. “Maybe you won’t make it out alive after all.”
Thirty-Two
When Jack entered her bedchamber from the adjoining room, dressed in a simple black dressing gown, Charlie couldn’t resist teasing him. She dismissed Jenny, who’d been helping her with her evening ablutions, and twisted around in her chair.
She said demurely, “How was your day, dear?”
He raised his brows. “Has my Lottie been replaced by an impostor?”
“I am trying on domesticity for size,” she said with a laugh.
He came to stand behind her at the dressing table. His eyes met hers in the looking glass, and he rested his hands lightly on her shoulders.
“How does it fit?”
She thought about it. “I do not think we are going to be like other couples.”
“That ship has long sailed, my love.” He studied her. “Do you mind that we are different?”
“No,” she said honestly. “I think I am better suited to unconventionality.”
Leaning down, he kissed her with seductive thoroughness. Heavens, how could she have gone years without this man when a few hours of separation now felt too long?
He nuzzled her throat. “You smell nice.”
“It is my face cream. I have it specially blended.”
“No, it’s you.” He kissed the curve of her neck. “Your skin smells like clean sheets.”
“Perhaps you just associate me with a bed.”
“There is no perhaps about it.”
In an easy motion, he swung her into his arms and carried her over to the furnishing in question. He deposited her, crawling over her like a playful bear whilst she giggled. Smiling, he kissed her softly on the nose and mouth. Then he sat up against the headboard, gathering her in the crook of his arm.
“Tell me about your day,” he said.
She snuggled against him. “I have good news and bad news.”
“Why can’t it ever just be good news?” he asked of no one in particular.
“The good news is that I got the job at Brompton’s and start tomorrow.”
