Instead, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “What do you know about Greece?”
Nick cocked his head. “Is that some sort of odd London turn of phrase I haven’t learned the meaning of?”
“No,” Saffron said with a laugh. “I just wondered, with all the changes the war caused …” She strained to recall anything she’d read about Greece in the newspapers from that time or after, something that would make Alexander keep his origins to himself. “They had a sort of power struggle, didn’t they? They ended up on our side, I think.”
Still looking at her curiously, Nick nodded. “They had a king, and that king wasn’t too certain he wanted to fight against his closest neighbors. Their prime minister disagreed, and eventually they joined up with us. The people, naturally, had strong opinions either way, and it all came to a head after the war ended. Bit of a mess over there now, Greece and the former Ottomans and all of them. I was stationed in that part of the world for a good many years. It all seems so far away now.” He smiled down at her. “I find myself rather glad to be home.”
The longer he stared down at her, the more aware she became of their nearness, the way Nick leaned over her, not quite crowding her, but not quite giving her enough space either.
A throat cleared. Saffron looked around Nick to see Alexander in the doorway of the greenhouse. He held up her handbag. “You left this in my office.”
“Oh, thank you.” She rushed forward to retrieve it. “Nick just stopped by the U.”
Alexander nodded, barely flicking him a glance.
“Since he works in agriculture, I thought to show him the greenhouses,” she said.
“Ever the educator,” Nick quipped.
The conversation stalled, and Saffron found herself looking determinedly at a beet sprout. Why were they so awkward with each other?
Alexander excused himself a moment later, and Saffron would have preferred retreating to her office to contemplate what she’d learned and what it meant, but Nick insisted on touring the rest of the greenhouses. When they reached the xolotl vine, she explained its involvement in the poisoning of one of the university staff’s wives.
Nick let out a low whistle. “If I recall correctly, your father was also a botanist. He had that massive conservatory.”
“He did. A separate one he constructed on the property—”
“Near the stables, I remember now. A mysterious old place, wasn’t it? Locked up all the time, if my memories of my bored adolescence are correct.”
“Yes, my father kept all his specimens well away from the smaller conservatory connected to the house. He studied plant diseases.” And more, if reports from others were to be believed. Her mind turned to Dr. Ingham and his suggestions. A few days ago, she’d been determined to ignore his questions, too distraught over everything that had occurred in France. A tiny spark of curiosity was lit at the mention of the greenhouse at Ellington. Had her father housed only sick plants he was experimentally treating or had other plants grown within? Something to do with the lab Dr. Ingham said her father had been invited to join?
“I can understand their concern, having seen the disastrous results of illness among plants,” Nick said. He let out a sigh. “I still cannot believe that my career has come to center aroundplants, of all things. You, at least, have the excuse of your father as your entry into botany.”
“That is something Elizabeth and I have puzzled over,” Saffron replied, starting toward the door. “Why are you working in the Agricultural Ministry? Aren’t you meant to be some sort of war hero?”
A smile played on his lips. “Deliver one message while under fire, and the world wants to vaunt you as a hero.”
Nick walked her back to the Quad, where lamps now glowed gold at the twin gatehouses on Gower Street. He bade her good night with a promise of another dinner with Elizabeth when he returned from Harpenden, and Saffron returned to her office.
She tidied up her things, contemplating Alexander and his so-called secret. Most of Europe had been involved in the war; she didn’tknow why he should feel the need to hide his Greek heritage, especially when they’d ended up on the same side as England.
She checked once more that her samples were well insulated and was just reaching for the blinds on her window when she saw two tall figures just beyond the gatehouses.
They stood in the pools of light cast by the lanterns, allowing her to see perfectly the angry expression Alexander wore as he spoke to Nick.
CHAPTER12
He’d been waiting for Nick in the shadows of the oak trees just inside the Quad. He had lingered there until Saffron had crossed the drive, huddled slightly without a coat on, and slipped inside the North Wing. Then he hurried to the street.
Nick was there, lighting a cigarette. The match flared in the gathering gloom, momentarily lighting up his face. With a deep breath to steady his nerves, Alexander began, “Nick.” Nick looked up, shaking out his match before flicking it to the ground. “Look, I’m not sure what job you’re here on—”
“Job?” Nick released a train of smoke as he spoke. “I’m here visiting my sister. And popping by to visit an old family friend. As I said.”
Alexander took a step forward. “I don’t know why you’re onto Saffron, and I don’t care. Leave her alone.”
Nick raised an eyebrow, puffing on his cigarette. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His smile was gone. The amiable older brother act that had grated on Alexander had finally given way to the man with whom he’d been acquainted.
