table and took their order for coffee. “And cakes,” Griz added as an afterthought.
She was frowning as the waitress scuttled off. “He feels Art’s betrayal very deeply. I don’t think he’s going to trust anyone else very easily.”
“No, but he might tell us a bit more about Art’s rival.”
“Those who were arrested… I shall ask Horace about that. In a very round-about way, or he’ll tell me to mind my own business again.”
“What did you get out of Inspector Harris?”
“That they’ve searched for the murder weapon and witnesses and found no sign of either.”
“And yet there were people around. I heard footsteps, more than just yours. And there were moving shadows. Someone saw who chased her into that alley and who left again. They’re just not saying.”
“Loyalty again?”
“Or fear.”
Her smile was cynical. “Does it not amount to the same thing? In that world at least.”
“And in others,” he allowed.
Their coffee and cake approached, and she changed the subject, asking politely after the Cordells.
Even after they had their coffee and she cut into a very elegant pastry, and no one else was close enough to overhear, she carried on the conversation. “How did you come to meet the Cordells?”
“I knew the doctor’s younger brother in Vienna, years ago when he was traveling. He had graduated by then, but we shared many an argument about medicine and politics. And many a bottle. We kept up correspondence once he left, and when I ended up here, he was the only Englishman I knew.”
“Is he in London, too?”
“No, in Berkshire. But there is more work for me in London, and his brother had both need of an assistant and a spare room to lodge me.” Her eyes, interested but unpitying, were really rather beautiful—a unique shade of hazel he had no name for, with odd, fascinating flecks of amber. Although, that might have been a trick of the sunlight through the window. “It’s not how I imagined my life would be. Exiled. Poor. Useless.”
He hadn’t meant to say such words, ever, least of all to her, but somehow, they slipped out. He didn’t even have time to wave them away with a joke, for she said seriously, “I will allow you the first two, but you do not appear to be remotely useless. What would you have been doing if the revolution had succeeded?”
He shrugged. “I would be practicing as a physician, probably in Pest.”
“As some more experienced doctor’s assistant, perhaps?” she suggested innocently.
He smiled faintly. “Perhaps.”
“At least partly among the poorest and sickest?”
“You are right, of course. I complain about nothing when I am lucky to be alive.”
“I don’t underestimate exile and poverty,” she said carefully, “although I have known neither. And I know you wanted to change the world.”
“I thought we could all have a say,” he offered. “Eliminate injustice and poverty. Instead, we made it all worse.”
She seemed to think about that. “I doubt it,” she said at last. “I think change is only ever gradual. Two steps forward and only one back. It just won’t be as quick as you might like.”
“Where did you learn such wisdom?” he asked lightly. “From your aristocratic ancestors?”
“Books,” she said in surprise, and he laughed.
“I like you, Griz. You are a breath of fresh air.”
She blushed and smiled at the same time, and the world seemed to fade, leaving only her. And he smiled, too, spontaneously, wanting her to like him back, even while the sane and sensible part of his brain flashed warnings at him.
Oh no, draw back from this now. She is not for you.
“Why are you not married long ago to some rich and honorable young nobleman?” he asked mildly.
“The best of them married my sisters, and I can’t be expected to look lower.” It was light and practiced, and Dragan didn’t believe a word.
“You wanted a different life,” he guessed. “You see? You are as revolutionary as I am.”
There was a speculative look in her eyes. “You mean you believe women should be able to do more than marry and have children?”
“Women do.”
“Lower class women without husbands,”
“I don’t recognize class,” he said promptly.
“Yes, you do. You just don’t like it.”
“Perhaps not, but I do agree with you that women’s minds are as capable as men’s.”
“Then you would be happy to see your sister or your wife at university? To work alongside her in your medical practice? As your fellow doctor?”
“Yes,” he said at once. “Though I should point out I have neither a sister nor a wife.”