“I’m sure you do.”
“Good evening, Stone, Dino,” a familiar voice said behind them.
Stone and Dino turned in unison to find CIA Director Lance Cabot standing a few feet away.
“Lance, I didn’t realize you would be here,” Stone said.
“That’s strange,” Lance said. “I knew you would be.”
Dino put a hand beside his mouth and stage-whispered, “I was under the impression this was going to be an exclusive party.”
“So was I,” Stone whispered back.
Ignoring them, Lance turned his attention to Tamlyn. “Since Stone seems to have forgotten his manners, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Lance Cabot.”
He held out his hand and Tamlyn shook it. “Nice to meet you. I’m Tamlyn Thompson.”
“Ah, yes. Strategic Services, newest executive.”
“And you know that because…?”
“Lance is director of the CIA,” Stone said. “He fancies himself the most informed person in any room.”
“Iamthe most informed person in any room.”
Rejoining them, Felicity said, “Who’s the most informed person?”
“Hello, Felicity,” Lance said.
“Lance,” she said. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
“You did insist.”
“I did, and I appreciate your indulgence.”
Tamlyn leaned close to Stone. “Do you know the heads of every spy organization in the world?”
Before he could say anything, a bell rang and one of the house staff announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served.”
The meal began with stuffedmushroom appetizers, followed by the main course—a choice of beef Wellington or Dover sole—both of which arrived with white asparagus imported from Germany, in a creamy wine sauce.
When the main course had been completed and the plates taken away, servers returned with slices of lemon tart drizzled in raspberry sauce.
“I feel guilty,” Tamlyn said, setting her fork down, having eaten only half her tart.
“About what?” Stone asked.
“That I can’t finish this. It might be the best lemon tart I’ve ever had.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was,” Lance said. “I believe it was made by one of the royal family’s pastry chefs.”
“Did you do background checks on everyone at this party?” Tamlyn asked.
“Not everyone.” Lance smiled briefly. “But I’ve had this tart before, during a very pleasant luncheon at Buckingham Palace.”
From her place at the center of the long table, Dame Felicity rose. “If I could have a moment of your time.”
Conversations tapered off, and everyone looked to their host.
