Page 75 of A Game of Scandal

There was still Izzy, I thought desperately. He couldn’t prevent me talking to her.

“And, of course, your sister-in-law is unfortunately out of town,” Laing said as if reading my mind. “I’m afraid I set a false trail for her that should keep her quite busy up north for a while. Oh, I almost forgot!” Laing exclaimed. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen. “I’ll need you to write a note to our friend Baron Ely. To apologize for your unexpected departure.”

I felt my blood freeze then, the last flicker of hope truly doused. Laing was looking at me with the twisted enjoyment of a predator toying with its prey. He was glad to separate Ash and I, I realized. He took pleasure in the pain that it would cause me to part from him.

“The young baron is going to find himself a jilted lover,” Laing mused. “Still, no need to break his heart yet. A simple note saying that Mrs Finch called you back to London and that she has assured your safety. You’ll see him there when he returns.” He gestured to the paper. “And don’t try to be clever, Lady Felicity. Only the words I’ve said.”

“Why do you dislike him so much?” I asked. “I felt it from the first time the two of you met.”

Something leaped in Laing’s eyes. “I don’t care for people who try to take what is rightly mine.”

I leaned against the table to write the note. There would be no reason for Ash to question it, I knew; no reason for him to guess that I needed help.

Laing glanced out of the window.

“Here is Milton now. He’ll escort you back to Miss Tiffins’ house where you can gather your things and say your goodbyes. We don’t want to alarm her.” He stood from his seat and gestured for me to walk out of the tea shop in front of him. I kept my chin high. I would think of something, I told myself, some way out of this mess. I was not helpless.

We stepped out on to the street where Laing’s henchman waited for us. I recognized his lumbering shape as the man who had attempted to kidnap me.

“Thank you, Milton,” Laing said. “Lady Felicity is pleased to have you as an escort.”

Pleased was not the word.

“Hey! Reeves! Is that you?” A young man who had been strolling past came to a sudden stop beside us. He looked like a student who was a touch worse for wear, having spent his afternoon in the pub rather than the lecture theatre. His face was currently scrunched up in an expression of delight. “Reeves!” he said again, the name slurred. He put his hand on Laing’s arm. “What are you doing back in town?”

“I’m afraid you have mistaken me for someone else,” Laing said, barely glancing at him.

“But…” The man frowned. “My apologies,” he said, “’m a trifle bosky!” then he shrugged and bobbed off, tossing a confused glance over his shoulder.

Laing returned his attention to me, giving a small bow, his mouth curling in a smile. “I shall see you in London soon, Lady Felicity.”

He made the promise sound like exactly what it was: a threat.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

I racked my brain for any way out of this situation as Milton escorted me back to Laetitia’s house in silence. It seemed that Laing’s hired muscle was a man of few words. It felt like a bit of a cliché to me, to have a strong silent henchman follow you about.

I knew that Laing had to have a far larger scheme than the one he had shared with me. For one thing, there was the matter of the anarchists and the bomb-making materials. For all his talk of power and chess matches, he’d been extremely light on details, but then I supposed one couldn’t hope an arch-villain was going to happily lay out all his plans.

When we reached Laetitia’s house, I was informed by a doleful Smythe that she was out at the college. He eyed Milton with great suspicion, but as he looked at everyone that way, it seemed unlikely I would be getting any help from that quarter.

“My friend has asked that I return to London at once,” I said carefully, sticking to the script Laing had impressed upon me. “She sent Mr Milton here to accompany me. Please pass on my thanks to Laetitia for having me to stay. I’ll be certain to write to her when I get home.”

“As you like,” Smythe sniffed, already shuffling away.

I packed my few belongings – the ones Ash had purchased for me – under the watchful eye of Milton, and as slowly as possible. I needed time to think. There was no way to alert the Aviary – Laing had made sure of that. They were being watched, and I couldn’t risk their safety.

That was when it hit me: there was one name that Laing hadn’t mentioned. Someone he probably didn’t know existed.

“I’d better write my letter to Mari,” I said as casually as I could manage, striding towards the small writing desk.

Milton’s hand closed round my shoulder, his fingers like iron bars, and I longed to hurl him across the room as Sylla would undoubtedly have done.

“Nice try,” he jeered. “Laing already told you; you aren’t allowed to warn any of your friends about what is happening.”

“And I’d be a fool to do so,” I said primly. “If you know anything about me, I should hope it’s that I am no fool. Marigold Lockhart is a friend of mine. I’m supposed to be leaving here to visit her in Yorkshire tomorrow. If I don’t write her a letter to cancel the engagement, she’ll worry and ask questions. Mr Laing will not like that.” I eyed him coolly.

Milton made a sound of annoyance. “Write your letter, but I’ll read it before you seal it. And don’t try any funny business.”