Chapter 93

HARRY DROVE into the Aytoun Lane house driveway. He’d taken the task of looking after Lady Anne seriously, as he knew the guv expected, and popped round to check on her a few times a week. He telephoned every morning and every evening, even if he had to leave whatever dolly bird he was with to do so. He’d sussed that Sundays were particularly hard for her, so he always came to see her on Sunday afternoons.

She opened the front door even before he’d turned off the engine, the orange cat in her arms. Waiting, she’d been. As always, he saw her scan the car he arrived in to see if he was alone. He always was, but that hadn’t stopped her from hoping she’d see the guv. Still, she smiled at him and waved. She was lonely enough to settle for seeing him.

“I thought you might come. I’ve made tea.”

“Tea sounds fine, Lady Anne.”

She made a face. “I wish you’d call me Anne.”

“Nah, it just wouldn’t feel right to me.” They’d had this discussion before.

She gave a resigned smile. “All right, then.” She led him into the kitchen. “Don’t faint, but I’ve made a cake.”

“Brilliant. This morning?”

She nodded.

“You were feeling good this morning then? You’re not always one for facing food in the morning.” They never discussed what he was almost positive was her condition. She always claimed to have a bit of flu, or an upset stomach. Sometimes she’d say she must have eaten something that was off. But he’d had three sisters who’d gotten preggers when they were still in school and he was living at home, and he was fairly sure Lady Anne was expecting. He didn’t know if the guv knew, but Harry wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.

“I feel good. Yesterday and today both. I think I’m finally getting over that bit of flu. I had eggs for breakfast today. So then I thought I would bake a cake in case you came by for tea. It’s chocolate. You like chocolate, don’t you?”

“Indeed I do.”

She put the cat down and brewed two pots of tea—one regular and one the awful herbal stuff he teased her about drinking. Then she busied herself cutting slices of cake. When she had everything ready, she poured the tea.

She wiggled a hand in his direction. “Go ahead. Try the cake. Tell me if you like it. This is a recipe of my sister Jeanne’s, the one that runs a bed and breakfast.”

He took a bite and closed his eyes as he tasted it with what he’d planned to be exaggerated pleasure, surprised to discover that it really was good. “Delicious. Lady Anne, you’ve made me a happy man.”

She laughed. “I’m so glad you like it. I just wanted to do something to thank you for all you do. I know watching over me must be a horrible nuisance for you.”

“Not at all. It’s a pleasure. And with the cake, we’re definitely even.” He watched as he saw her face suddenly get serious, and her eyes drop down to where her hands surrounded her tea cup. He knew what was coming. What always came about now with her.

“How is he? I never see him, you know.” Tears swam in her eyes. “He won’t see me, or even talk to me.” She gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Of course, you know that.”

The first time this had happened, he’d been surprised, shocked even, but now he was used to it. It had taken Harry some time to get used to the idea that this beautifully elegant wife of his superior officer was really just a girl sick at heart for a man who wouldn’t have anything to do with her.

Harry knew the guv wouldn’t want him to tell her anything that would worry her, so he wouldn’t tell her what Reid had gone through to explain to his superiors what had happened. If things hadn’t turned out so well, Harry didn’t know what would have happened to Reid’s career. But Harry said nothing about that to her. Even though the Superintendent kept his distance from her himself, he obviously wanted his wife protected from as much as he could manage to protect her.

“He’s fine, Lady Anne. Works all the time, but that’s normal for him. Things are busy at the office.” That was the truth, of course, but the guv was working much harder than necessary.

She sighed. “Still no sign of Moira?”

“No, nothing.”

“Do you think she’s dead? That Walter’s had her killed?”

“Either that or she’s just doing a good job at not being found.”

“I hope she’s okay. You’ll let me know if you hear anything before I leave?”

“Aye. Count on it.”

She was quiet, then took a sip of her tea. “I never heard if there was anything helpful on that flashdrive Moira gave me. Was it a total fizzle?”

Harry was taken aback. He’d assumed she’d at least known how important what she’d risked so much for had been. But of course, everything had been kept confidential, and only a handful of people knew of her involvement. Keeping her name out of all of the reports so there would be less chance of retaliation against her had been an unbreakable order. But she was entitled to know a little, he decided.

“No, not a fizzle at all. The information you got helped us get millions and millions of pounds out of the hands of terrorists.”

“Oh.” She looked surprised.

“And you probably know we arrested the men you met at the dinner—not Walter Von Zandt, of course, but the others. We were able to show not only that they were involved in ordering the Heidelberg bombing but up to their necks in a conspiracy to bomb almost a dozen universities in the UK and Europe. The information MI5 got out of them saved many lives, I daresay.”

She nodded. “I saw that part in the newspaper.”

“You did a fine job giving the descriptions for the sketches of the suspects. Of course, there’s been no mention of your part in things, as the guv doesn’t want anyone to know you were involved. To keep you safe.”

“Of course.”

“We weren’t able to get enough to arrest Von Zandt yet, but eventually, we’ll get him.”

“I wish I could have helped more with that.”

“What you did helped a lot and the guv is uncommonly proud of you. He just wants to make sure no one comes after you, to, you know, retaliate or something.”

Tears fell down her beautiful cheeks. “He’s nice that way, isn’t he?”

“He doesn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I’m a dreadful wife for a man like him.”

Now Harry didn’t know what to say. He’d gotten better at navigating these talks with her—the first time had flummoxed him—but this one was tricky. In spite of himself, he had become genuinely fond of her, but she had caused the guv more than a fair amount of trouble. He was fairly certain that despite the Superintendent being so crazy about her, she actually was a dreadful wife for a man like him.

She laughed, while at the same time wiping away her tears with her hand. “You should see your face.”

He stammered, trying to regroup. “Not at all, I was going to say.”

“No, you weren’t.” She got up and took her cup over to the sink. “Would you like more cake?”

He’d cleaned his plate. “Don’t mind if I do. It’s a lovely cake.” He brightened. “You do know how to cook.”

She smiled. “Thank you. I’ll have to work on the rest of the wife things.”

“That’s the spirit.” Whew. They’d gotten through it again.

She brought him another piece of cake. “Did you get a chance to ask if he’d found the things I’m missing in his flat? My perfume and the nightgown? I’m getting packed and still can’t find them.”

“Aye. He said no, that you must have left them in the hotel.”