“Besides, if he came we’d have two chaperones,” Walker laughed a little. “And then, what would we do?”
“Says the man assigned to chaperone us on the way to Bath,” Byron teased.
Landon’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “The way you carry on about chaperones, Walker, makes me certain that you need one.”
Walker sputtered like a gasping fish, but his protestations were drowned out by the train’s whistle.
Mira gave the old butler a hug.
“Goodbye, Landon,” Mira said. “Take care.”
“I will. I’d ask you to stay out of trouble, but I know that’s a fool’s wish,” he teased.
Mira smiled. “I’ll try.”
“You’ll look after her, won’t you?” Landon said, turning to Byron.
“Of course, I will.”
***
On the way to Bath, the triofound themselves splitting their time between their own compartment and the dining car. They would be meeting Liza and her family at the station once they arrived, then going on to their lodgings of the next few weeks. Walker was ostensibly acting as chaperone for Byron and Mira during the trip, but said nothing as they held hands beneath the table during tea. They whiled away an hour, consuming pastries, cheese, sandwiches, and jams, talking about this and that amidst the clattering of cutlery and idle conversations from the other occupants of the dining car.
“It’s been ages since I attended a musical program,” Mira said. “I hope we have enough time to get ready.”
“Seems to me that you only need thirty minutes to look presentable, Mouse,” Walker said, teasing.
She gave him a glare, though it lacked heat. “I’d rather not rush if I don’t have to. Especially as we aren’t familiar with the town. We could arrive with hours to spare to get ready, and lose it all in carriage rides to and from our lodgings and Bath proper.”
Byron sighed. “I wish I could escort you there, but I believe my family intends to make an entrance.”
“You’re certain about staying with them in Bath?” Walker asked between bites of scone. “From what I hear, Davenguard has plenty of room if you change your mind.”
“Positive.” Byron rubbed the back of Mira’s hand with his thumb. “For the purposes of the investigation, it would be best if no one is aware of my work as a detective. Which means I ought to assume the role of Ambrose Sherard, estranged son and brother.”
“Must be dashed confusing to keep everything separate,”Walker said. “Two names, two personas, two lives.”
“One person,” Mira whispered.
Byron squeezed her hand. “Seeing as they rarely intersect, it isn’t as much trouble as you’d expect.”
“And yet, they are intersecting,” Walker said. “Are we going to see a new side to you, old boy?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Byron said. “There isn’t much difference between the way I act with my family and how I act in a professional setting.”
“And here I thought one needed to craft an entirely new identity when one had a pseudonym.” Walker spread clotted cream across another scone. “Isn’t that part of the fun of it?”
“I suppose,” Byron said. “But that would add unnecessary complication. Most people who use pseudonyms only need the luxury of a second name.”
Walker frowned. “There aren’t that many people who use pseudonyms, are there?”
“Oh, more than you would think. Authors, journalists, scientists, and the like often use a nom de plume in order to maintain their privacy. Using a pseudonym wouldn’t change much of their actions in the day to day, except, perhaps, in remembering which signature to use.”
“Is that why you chose Constantine?” Walker asked. “For privacy?”
Byron paused, selecting a pastry. “In my case, it’s a means of separating from my family name. It allows me to do my work without people paying too much attention. Although, as I’ve made more of a name as a detective, it has become more difficult.” He retrieved a petit four and sat back. “The name change also assuages any embarrassment my family might have in my choice of profession.”
“Fair enough,” Walker said.
