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sent us, not accompanied us, and I decided to let him remain in that fallacy. I was afraid he’d ask to
see her.”
Rayley tilted his head. “What if she asks to see him? She surely will, as soon as she
gets her feet back under her from the sailing.”
“True enough,” Trevor said. “But I would like to forestall that meeting as long as
possible, at least until we hold a few more cards in our hands. He said he wanted her forgiveness,
which is likely true enough, but who knows what manner of falsehoods he is prepared to utter in his
quest for that benediction? Until we have a better grasp on the particulars, we’ll have no way of
separating confessed facts from confessed fantasy.” Trevor sat back in his chair and scanned the
room. “By the way, do you think I was too rough on Seal and Morass today?”
“I wouldn’t lose sleep over the matter. But I suppose that Morass is more accustomed to
military matters, which exists as a different world from civilian crime, and that Seal fondly imagined
he had come to India to shuffle paperwork around for a year or two and then move on to greener
fields. You can hardly hold them to the professional standards of Scotland Yard.”
Trevor shifted a bit uncomfortably in his seat, for he knew he had done precisely that.
“Seal has possibilities,” he finally ventured.
“You think so? Of the two, I would put my money on Morass.”
Just then Geraldine swept up, with a pair of young men in her wake. One was short,
ruddy, and moved with the confident manner of a man intent on a plan. The other – frail and bookish
with a heavy mustache – held back a bit, hovering on the periphery of the social circle.
“Darlings,” said Geraldine. “You must allow me to introduce Michael Everlee and
Jonathan Benson. Recently come from London, just as we have. And this is Trevor Welles, Rayley
Abrams, and David Mabrey. All of Scotland Yard.”
“Abrams?” Everlee said.
“Yes,” Rayley said evenly. “And did I catch your own name? Eversure?”
“Everlee,” the man replied. “Benson here is my attaché. Attache as in the word
‘attached,’ you understand. In a business sense, of course.”
“Oh of course,” Rayley said, just as evenly. Benson nodded in their general direction
but his gaze was fixed on a point just above their heads.
“Shall we sit?” asked Geraldine, choosing a chair as she spoke. “I was telling Mr.
Everlee that I had a long ago acquaintance with his mother and father. And stepfather as well.”
“But my dear Miss Bainbridge,” said Everlee, still standing. “As I told you out on the
terrace, there is no need to dissemble. I know well enough who you all are and why you are here.”
And we know your purpose as well, Trevor thought, keeping the socially required smile
plastered on his face.
Geraldine soldiered on. “Do sit just a minute, for it is such an honor to meet you,” she
said. “I understand you are the youngest man to have ever won an election to the House of Commons.
That is quite an accomplishment.”
“Yes, I shall be thirty-three next month,” Everlee said. “Which makes me the youngest
man to sit in Parliament.” The words had the false ring of an oft-repeated speech and after saying
them he looked restlessly around the room. “I hope you will forgive me if I don’t join you for the next
round of pegs, but, as I’m sure you can all imagine, this is not a social visit for me. I do appreciate
you for offering up your names so promptly. Yes, it was most helpful, and I shall see you again soon.”
And with that he bowed and even snapped his heels a bit, giving rise to unfortunate
comparisons with Bonaparte, then bustled away from the group, Benson trailing wordlessly behind.