“Elizabeth—” She looked at him, the word dying on her lips.
“Elizabethan?” he asked politely. “How interesting that you should know that. Now, where is it?”
She shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He wasn’t in the habit of throttling those of the fairer sex, but he was tempted to shout at her at least. He might have wondered if she were actually telling the truth, but she just looked so profoundly guilty. He looked at her sternly.
“I want answers.”
She looked absolutely terrified, which began to leave him slightly unsettled. He wasn’t about to credit her with anything of an altruistic or noble nature, but the woman didn’t look as if she could have stolen a sweet from a shop with any success.
“I don’t have any answers,” she said, “so you might as well let me go.”
“Straight to Scotland Yard, if I had any sense,” he said grimly.
“A dangerous place for you, I’d imagine,” she said, looking down her nose at him. Unfortunately, the fact that her teeth were chattering ruined the aura of bravado.
“What does that mean?”
“It means how do I know you aren’t a textile thief?”
He frowned. Things were not going quite as he’d expected them to, which bothered him. He was accustomed to knowing what would happen before it happened. This business of the unexpected . . . well, he wasn’t sure he cared for it.
“Derrick, we have a couple of friends behind us,” Rufus interjected suddenly. “What do you want me to do?”
Derrick considered furiously. His arm was about to make him daft with its throbbing, he had a very uncooperative courier sitting next to him, and they were both being followed by unknown quantities. He couldn’t imagine that they were friends of the woman sitting next to him. Perhaps some time in a quiet location would cause the answers to bubble to the surface. With the way his companion was wheezing, he didn’t suppose that would take very long.
He texted Oliver. Hotel?
Already done.
Where?
Ritz, of course. Cameron’s buying.
He’ll bill me.
Prob.
Derrick wasn’t a fan of big, splashy hotels, but the security and visibility of the Ritz was undeniable. A difficult place in which to find oneself mugged. He sighed. “The Ritz, please, Rufus.”
“Very good, Master Derrick.”
Samantha Drummond was making noises that sounded remarkably rodent-like. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought Cameron’s Mercedes had mice nesting under the seats. He pursed his lips, then looked at his companion. Her face was only occasionally lit by the traffic, but he saw all he needed to. She was absolutely terrified.
“I’ll scream,” she said, sounding as if she would only scream after she’d lost what lunch she’d managed to ingest.
He shifted so he could look her full in the face. “I have no intention of harming you,” he said, though he would most certainly and with a certain amount of cheerfulness turn her over to the authorities once he’d had his lace back from her. “I don’t think the others following you are nearly as altruistic.”
“Bald guy?”
He nodded.
“Skinny guy?”
He nodded, deciding that perhaps it would be discreet not to mention the other two Oliver had seen in the crowd. For all he knew, there were even more.
“What do they want from me?”
“What do you think they want from you?”
She put her hand over her mouth and turned to look out the window.
Derrick wasn’t unused to waiting people out. It had served him very well over the years, that waiting. He could surely outlast a simple scholar from across the Pond, even one who was foolish enough to try to make a little extra from a bit of thievery. Perhaps she’d considered lifting the lace herself. He imagined with enough time and a handful of disappointed looks, she might be dissuaded from a further life of crime. A pity she would spend so long in prison. He didn’t imagine she would look quite as lovely after her stint.
But that wasn’t his worry.
Why he couldn’t have done that at a cheap hotel, he didn’t know, but there it was. At least he would get something decent to eat out of the bargain.
He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. He pressed his free hand against his shoulder and almost lost consciousness. That wasn’t good, but it could wait.
He gave Samantha Drummond half an hour before she was singing like a lark. His arm would last that long.
Or so he hoped.
Chapter 9
Samantha stared up at the façade of the Ritz as the very nice car she was