Page 78 of A Game of Scandal

“It could be something,” Mrs Finch said thoughtfully.

“We know Laing isn’t his real name,” Izzy added. “Could it be Reeves?”

“There was something else too,” I said. “He talked about his struggles in the past, something about being a self-made man … he said … that his destiny had been forged in the fires of his early struggle. That was it. And that he wasn’t soft like the people in power are. The way he talked about the aristocracy, it was with disdain. I know his past is a mystery, but I think he comes from humble origins. His obvious dislike of the nobility could link him to the anarchists.”

Mrs Finch shook her head. “It’s certainly possible that Laing sympathizes with them, but I don’t believe that he is an anarchist. I think whatever Laing is up to, it’s personal rather than political.”

We sat absorbing that for a moment.

“Do you know—” I began, but I was interrupted by the sound of the street-side kitchen door being shoved open.

Izzy was on her feet in an instant. Sylla had a pistol trained on the doorway before I could move. Mrs Finch continued to sip her tea.

“Where the hell is my wife?” My brother came stomping into the room, dishevelled and covered in dirt. His stride ate up the floor as he reached for Izzy.

“Max!” she had time to squeak, before he was pulling her into his arms and covering her mouth with his. My sister-in-law seemed to have no problem with this greeting, melting into his embrace with a murmur of approval.

I exchanged a glance with Sylla, who was tucking the pistol back in her waistband. She rolled her eyes and I tried to smother a giggle. When it seemed as though the kissing was not going to stop any time soon, Mrs Finch delicately cleared her throat.

Izzy emerged from the cocoon of Max’s body, looking pink and adorable, a wide smile stretching across her face.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“Why are you apologizing?” Max asked, his eyes tenderly searching her face as if memorizing every freckle. “We haven’t seen each other for weeks. I didn’t care for it.”

“No,” Izzy admitted, leaning into the side of his body as he slipped his arm round her waist. Her face wore a look of relief. “Neither did I. Let’s not do it again.”

“I heard there was trouble. I was worried.” Max finally tore his attention away from his wife and turned to face the rest of us. His brows dipped into a frown when he caught sight of me sitting alongside the head of the Aviary.

“Felicity,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” I said serenely.

Max looked from Mrs Finch to Izzy to me. “What,” he said coldly, “is going on?”

“Max,” I said quietly, but his eyes were on Mrs Finch and they had narrowed dangerously.

Though Mrs Finch seemed perfectly calm, it was as if the temperature in the room dropped several degrees. “You have dragged my sister into some scheme,” his voice was under rigid control, “which is a line we agreed would never be crossed. If you’ve placed her in danger, then you’ll have me to answer to.”

“Max.” Izzy tugged at his arm. “It is all my fault. You must listen.”

“No,” I said, taking my life in my hands because I had rarely seen Max so furious. “It’s my fault. I talked them into letting me help. I made it so they practically had no choice in the matter.”

For a smouldering second, Max’s focus fell on me, and he frowned. “That does sound like you,” he admitted.

“Perhaps we should make him a sandwich,” Winnie put in. “You know how grumpy he gets when he’s hungry.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m a child,” Max barked.

“So you don’t want a sandwich?” Maud asked innocently, already making her way towards the pantry.

“I didn’t say that,” he grumbled. He sighed and scrubbed his hand over his dirt-streaked face. “I don’t mean to be grumpy. I’m trying to catch up here. It’s been a long and exceedingly trying day, and the message I received was light on details except to say that there was a threat to my family.”

“But we’re all here, and we’re all well,” Izzy said soothingly. “Yes, Felicity knows about the Aviary, and about the work you do for the government. But she’s always known, because she’s quite brilliant and we have underestimated her.”

“Eat your sandwich,” Maud said, sliding a plate across the table before Max could respond.

With another beleaguered sigh, Max picked up the sandwich in one of his big hands and munched into it, letting out a sound of pleasure. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday,” he admitted.