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sian accent better than, perhaps, a French one. I don’t know. Anyway, he sees what he wants at these social functions. He then orders his thieves to steal them and gives them descriptions of what to look for, and where to find them. I have no doubt that he takes the opportunity to search the rooms to look for the safes while he is at these social functions.”
Marguerite’s heart leapt. “Wait! Do you mean that was why he was in that room last night? He was looking for the safe?”
Joe looked at her knowingly. “Well, if you didn’t have a secret assignation with him, and hadn’t seen him before last night, why else would he know to go in there? I know from my own search that the safe is located behind the bookshelf you studied.”
“You checked?”
“I was there to monitor Sayers, and saw you talking with the man everyone calls the Count,” Joe replied honestly.
“So he was there to search for the safe.” She shivered at the duplicity of accepting someone’s hospitality only to double cross them in such a merciless way.
“Well, he also wanted to accost you given what he claims your father has agreed to. However, because this is Sayers we are talking about, I wouldn’t trust anything he tells you. Unless your father has been on at you to find a husband then it is highly unlikely that a man like Sayers, who is trying to build a reputation as Russian Count, would bargain with a clockmaker for his daughter’s hand in marriage.”
“Unless he wants something either the clockmaker has,” Marguerite added with a nod but then froze and looked at Joe in horror. “Like a skill or something.”
Joe nodded.
“So he may not want me after all,” Marguerite murmured.
There was such relief in her voice that Joe grinned at her. “He is trying to get me out of the way so that he can come after you. He hates me because I am stopping him threatening you into going along with whatever schemes he has you earmarked for.”
Considering what he knew about Sayers’ network, Joe didn’t doubt it was the latter. Marguerite was delightful in her own right. She was tempting, beautiful, clever, sensual, and lively, but she had nothing about her that many better connected young ladies didn’t have.
A companionable silence settled between them for the next several miles. Eventually, Joe could stand it no longer.
“Go on then,” he sighed.
Marguerite looked at him. “Go on what?” she asked blandly.
“Ask.”
“Ask what?”
Joe sighed and threw her a dour look. “I can hear the cogs turning. Ask me, why don’t you?”
Marguerite smiled suddenly, inwardly delighted that he could read her so well. Their eyes met. Her smile widened. Joe rolled his eyes and sighed.
“You know me so well,” she murmured gently.
Joe huffed but couldn’t help himself, he smiled back. “Go on.”
“How do you know this Sir Hugo? Who is he, and what connection do you have with the War Office?”
“That’s three questions,” Joe scolded.
“You said to ask,” she replied pertly.
“I work for him,” Joe replied bluntly. “But that is strictly confidential. I am not going to tell you any more than that, so don’t ask.”
“The War Office?” she prompted when he didn’t seem inclined to tell her more.
“It is where I work. Sir Hugo is my boss.” He couldn’t tell her more just in case Sayers did manage to get his hands on her. “I will tell you more when we have the time to go into more detail, and the current threat has gone.”
She squinted at him.
Joe felt her stare and sighed. “I promise, I will.”
“Promise?” she prompted.
