at least half an hour tromping through a rapidly awakening London and attracting all kinds of stares he’d hoped to avoid.
“Not exactly technologically savvy here, are they?” Oliver murmured from behind him, finally.
“Not exactly,” Derrick said grimly.
Streetlamps would have made things easier, but then they would have been more exposed. Then again, by the time the sky was lightening and the city was fully awake, he was completely lost. He wondered if perhaps he’d been rash in thinking he could memorize an Elizabethan street map and have it possibly resemble what he was looking at from the ground.
“Bobbies at twelve o’clock,” Oliver said, just loudly enough to be heard.
Derrick swore silently. He continued on, but was forced to face the fact that he had quite likely plunged them all into something they wouldn’t be able to escape from.
And then, a miracle.
A woman stepped from the back gate of some grand place as if she’d simply come out for a breath of fresh air. She looked at them, paused, then turned toward the guards. She shooed them on their way with a cheerful story about how fortunate it was to find guests coming right to one’s back gate instead of having to go search for them through all of London. The guards frowned, then continued on their way.
Derrick could hardly believe their good fortune, but he wasn’t about to argue. He found himself herded with his little group inside a high wall and the iron gate shut behind them. The courtyard was reassuringly free of anything but a garden, a fountain, and stables. Not a guard in sight.
The old woman looked at them, then lifted her hood back from her face.
Samantha gasped. “Granny Mary?”
“Who else?” The woman stepped forward and hugged Samantha tightly. “You know, Sam, it’s one thing to run into a favorite great-niece in the local Starbucks, it’s something entirely different to find her traipsing about London at an unearthly hour of the morning. I’ll need details.”
“It’s, um, complicated.”
“If it means you’re out from under your mother’s thumb, then you should do complicated more often.” She pulled Samantha over to stand next to her and linked arms with her. “Who are these handsome young men you’ve brought along as an escort?”
Derrick tried to pick his jaw up off his chest, but it was difficult. He could only stand there and gape.
Samantha gestured toward them. “Derrick Cameron, Oliver Phillips, Peter Wright. We’re here on an, ah, adventure.”
“I’ll just bet you are, cupcake.” Mary shook hands all around, then looked at Derrick. “You’re Robert Cameron’s cousin, aren’t you? In charge of the treasure-hunting business presently?”
“Ah—”
“I’ve heard about you,” Mary said, nodding knowingly. “And about your lads there, as well. I’m Samantha’s great-aunt, by the way.”
Derrick watched Samantha turn to look at her great-aunt. “But how do you know Derrick?”
“Well, first because I know his cousin, Robert. He’s in business with Gideon who’s funding the other half of a preservation group. Very high-end, fancy properties in need of some TLC.”
“Who’s Gideon?” Samantha asked blankly.
Mary looked at her in surprise, then laughed. “Good heavens, girl, you need to get out more. Gideon is Megan’s husband, Lord Blythewood. Have you never wondered about your cousins?”
Samantha shrugged helplessly. “I knew Megan had married an Englishman and so had Jennifer, but it’s not like I got an invitation to the wedding or anything. I’d thought about trying to get in contact with them, of course, but you know how Mother is about handing out phone numbers.”
“Yes, I do,” Mary said crisply. “I imagine she was afraid they would corrupt you by filling your head with unwholesome things like thoughts of independence and insurrection.”
Samantha smiled faintly. “Probably so. Well, that and you know the girls and I aren’t exactly close.”
“Well, you’re a damn sight farther away from Jennifer than you might think, but we’ll discuss that later, when we have some privacy.” She nodded toward Derrick. “That lad there might be able to give you a few details about your cousins and their doings, perhaps. I don’t suppose he’s told you what he’s been doing with his free time lately.”
Derrick found himself being regarded closely by two women with inquiring minds. He held up his hands slowly.
“It wasn’t my fault.”
“Ha,” Mary said. “I know exactly what you’ve been up to over the past year, my boy, you and that rogue laird from down the way. I suppose that’s fortunate or you would be hopelessly lost here.”
“We were hopelessly lost,” Samantha said.
“I wasn’t,” Oliver said mildly.
Derrick shot him