Page 88 of The Unknown Birds

She’d known he had polish and likely a fair amount of money, but she hadn’t realized he came with a butler at the door, a footman and a maid to show them to their compartments on the second floor.

“Same room as always, old chap. You know the one,” he told Rook when they began their slow journey up the stairs.

Rook’s was the first room on the left, Ashley’s just across the gilded corridor. She supposed in a house like this one, guests were expected to change for dinner, but she had only removed her hat and splashed water on her face before she heard the click of Rook’s door opening and closing and his footsteps in the hall.

“Is he a duke?” she whispered, gawking at gold-framed portraits as they made their way slowly back down the stairs.

He chuckled. “A baronet, I think. I forgot how overwhelming it can all be.”

“Oh, just a baronet is all. Blimey,” Ash whispered, and Rook laughed again.

Dinner was only the three of them, sitting close together at a grand table in a grand room that was meant for grander guests than Charley Ashley.

“I know to do things properly I should’ve invited about nine more guests, but I never really went in for that sort of thing. You don’t mind, do you?” the captain asked apologetically. “Would’ve gotten the numbers wrong anyway, thanks to your cheeky surprise. Too many ladies, not enough gents.”

“Mind not having an audience for my infamous unveiling? I prefer it,” Ash teased.

“You know me,” Rook said, taking a sip of his wine and pausing to appreciate the flavor.

“Still a lone wolf?”

Rook glanced at Ashley. “More or less.”

She felt a flush creep up her cheeks, and gulped her own wine to hide it, relieved to notice Davies hadn’t changed for dinner either. He’d exchanged his driving gloves for a more formal pearl-shade and removed his light brown cap, but that was all.

Up close in candlelight, the scarring on his cheek was whiter than the rest of his face, and part of the left brow was gone for good, but his eyes held an almost boyish gleam rarely seen in the trenches and it was a balm to know he was doing quite so well.

“Truthfully, I’m a little disappointed not to have more witnesses to your great charade, Ashley. Crikey, do I still call you Ashley?”

“I hope you will, Captain.”

“Oh, please, none of that. Our war is long since over, and we’re practically of an age. You may call me Henry. Or Davies, if you must.”

Ash glanced at Rook. “He still calls you Cap.”

“Yes, but he’s incorrigibly stubborn and pretends I saved his life.”

“You did,” Rook replied.

“Pish tosh. Now, about you being a woman⁠—”

“I am sorry for lying to you⁠—”

“No, no, I don’t care about that at all. Only I think you’re a testament that the army should throw the doors wide open to the fairer sex. You were worth two of most men. Do you keep in touch with any of the others?”

“Only this one,” she said, nodding again to Rook, before focusing on her deliciously creamy soup. “And that’s fairly recent.”

“January, you said? I suppose that explains why no one bothered to tell me about you.”

“Are you in touch with many from the old days?” she asked, another flicker of jealousy stabbing deep beneath her ribs.

“As many as I’m able. Lately, I’ve been quite busy.”

“In the House of Lords?” Ashley asked innocently, and Rook choked on his soup.

“Working for the Home Office. I’ve been partnering with the Anderson Committee and the Department of Health on… plans.”

“War plans?”