“Is another meeting necessary?” Richard said when he picked Aubrey up.
“I have to recover,” Aubrey said, fluttering her eyes, and Richard rolled his own.
“Don’t play-act that debutante act with me.”
“I thought you knew I wasn’t one.”
“Or your beleaguered victim routine.”
“Mr. Stowe appreciates directness,” Aubrey said, and Richard nodded, almost gloomily. Richard also appreciated directness even if his fiancé didn’t.
He said, answering some thought that lurked between them, “Some things we have to do, Aubrey. To get on.”
“Sir Prescott thinks I should wrap myself in cozy thoughts.”
Richard looked mildly revolted. “That’s not an option,” he said. He would take her to Police Headquarters the next day. When, the next morning at the breakfast table, Mother cried, “Oh, Aubrey, are you ready for Lady Trulott’s garden party?” Richard intervened:
“I’m taking Aubrey with me today.”
“You know that Mother thinks you’re introducing me to unmarried ministers,” Aubrey said in the hack.
“Just simper if she asks you.”
“She’s not that clueless,” Aubrey said without much zeal. Mother had all the avid energy and cleverness of an ambitious butterfly. She would ask about the unmarried ministers but would move on quickly to the next bright possibility, socially-speaking.
Not Mr. Stowe.
The night before, Aubrey had coaxed the bubble several times towards transformation, tugging at its edges until fur swept across her face and arms. Each time, she’d let the bubble drop into her gut so smooth skin returned immediately. She didn’t want to rush towards transformation too quickly, but she wanted to be ready for her meeting with Charles. I want to show off for Charles. And she’d blushed, all alone in her room.
* * *
Only the sandy-haired Col was in the office. “Charles is at our station in Trades,” he told Aubrey. “He said to tell you he’ll be back soon. Do you, ah, want a drink of water?”
“No,” Aubrey said. “This isn’t a social call,” and Col said, “Absolutely!” without thinking, then flushed.
Aubrey went into the lobby and sat at the bottom of the steep staircase. There were police in the large room opposite the office. She could hear desultory conversation, a few snores, the sound of checkers clicking against boards. “Some of them just got off shift,” Col said when he glanced out the door. “A few are waiting to go on.”
Charles strolled in twenty minutes later, Perry at his shoulder. “We aren’t Leo’s bodyguards,” Perry was saying, and Charles said, “But staking out his tavern could prove fruitful.”
“He wouldn’t dare us to end his own operation!”
“Unless Moss Harley and his brothers are using Leo against his will. He’s not a natural criminal mastermind.”
Perry mumbled something like “No such thing” and went on into the office to be besieged by Col’s chatter. Charles halted in front of Aubrey.
“Moss Harley and his brothers are highwaymen,” she said. “I thought the police could only arrest criminals in Kingston.”
“If they bring their goods to Kingston—” Charles held up innocent hands.
“You went to Sommerville the first time when you heard I was missing the first time.”
