“Chapel? One of the towers? There’ll be more space in the chapel,” Farran offered. “Probably more other people. Certainly a warder right there.”
“That, then.” Vega curled her arm through Farran’s, and he felt like he should be more protective. Except, of course, he was not the sort of man who did that naturally. And he wasn’t trained to it, not like some people had been. He took a breath, though, and led off bravely.
“Do you think he’s the sort of man who avoids a church?” The question occurred to Farran when they were most of the way there. They were passing by the marker that he knew from the guidebook marked the site of the private executions in the Tower.
At the door to the chapel, the warder agreed to let them in, giving a brief tour to them and another handful of sightseers. People murmured, but it felt good, to Farran at least, to have others nearby. He felt they couldn’t trust an American of unknown desires to behave properly, but at least other people might be a deterrent.
When they came out again, Vandermeer had disappeared again. “It’s just about time for our Jewels ticket,” Farran said. “Perhaps he went in there, but there will be both people and guards.”
Vega nodded. When they entered the Wakefield Tower, and climbed to the second floor, the lighting focused on the jewels themselves. Those were splendid, of course, both the gems and the settings.
Farran thought a few times that Vandermeer might be some people ahead of them, but it was hard to tell. When they’d made their proper circuit and come back downstairs again, Vega drew him aside, under a tree. “Shall we, I mean, do you want to see the Beauchamp Tower? I gather there are some rather interesting carvings?”
“I think we’ve more or less proved our point,” Farran said, keeping an eye out. “But I admit, I’m sort of curious to see if he approaches. Or what he says.”
Vega blinked at him. Then she squared her shoulders. “Onward, then. A promenade, around the grounds, then the tower? And if we don’t see any sign of him after that, reconsider?”
“Just so.” Farran offered his arm, and they went along again, down the south side, through one of the arches through the inner wards, and then into the central area again, up a broad cobblestone path toward the Waterloo barracks. Those weren’t open to visitors, but it made a pleasant circuit.
They did not see anything out of the way until they were almost at the doors. Vandermeer appeared from around the corner of the White Tower, on the other side. This time, he absolutely saw them, touching his hat and coming over, his coat behind him.
“Miss Beaumont! A pleasure.” He beamed at Vega, whose hand tightened a bit on Farran’s arm. “And you, sir?”
Farran had a sudden shiver, reminding him of the way one wasn’t supposed to give a proper name to the Fatae. Vivian had explained where those tales came from, and of course, it was more complicated than that, but still. “Michaels.” He cleared his throat. “Anthony Michaels.” It was a common enough last name, and Tony never minded Farran borrowing his first name. Farran was uncommon enough it stuck in the memory far more.
Vega, thankfully, picked up on it evenly. “Anthony and I were just thinking whether we’d call it a day. Such a pleasure to see the history, but I’m afraid I ought to get back.”
“I won’t keep you. Not today, then.” That also had an edge to it, to Farran’s ear. “Perhaps I’ll see you at the club again.” That definitely was half a threat or warning or something else of the kind. Then he took a step back.
Farran nodded once before gesturing. “This way, then. I saw the cabs lining up down the road. It will be easiest to catch one there.” They walked, not too quickly, but briskly enough, across the bridge, up the slight hill, and away from the Tower.
“I did not care for that.” Vega’s voice was tight. “Can we go somewhere and talk? I’d rather not my rooms, in case, well.”
“Your landlady would disapprove of him. I’ve a serviced flat, a small one, but private, and there’s a porter. If it wouldn’t bother you, come to mine?”
“Oh, that’s no bother.” Her voice brightened. “I’m curious to see how you live, actually. You’ve seen mine.”
“It’s not much. I wasn’t set up for entertaining. But Uncle Cadmus taught me to be tidy. Besides, you might want a look at some of my notes.” He nodded and then gestured. “I meant it about the cabs. And we can ask the cabbie to take an unusual way back, just in case.”
“Grand. I dislike the feeling there’s someone watching me behind my back.”
When they got to the row of black cabs, Farran looked back, as he was guiding Vega into the seat. He thought he could see Vandermeer— or again, someone very much like his silhouette— standing on top of the walls, looking out toward them.
Chapter 27
A SHORT TIME LATER
“Here, come in. Let me put the kettle on.” Farran showed her up into the flat. “Do you need something to eat?”
“Oh, don’t go to any bother. I can get something at the club before I go on.” Vega wanted to rub her hands up and down her arms, but that would mean letting what she was feeling show.
“There’s not much of a kitchen, but I have some makings for sandwiches.” Farran considered. “Also some scones.”
“A scone, then.” Vega glanced around, shifting nervously. “Scones are rarely a bad idea. Unless they’re lumps.”
“These are not lumpy. The woman who sees to the flat has a wonderful touch with the baking. Or knows someone who does. She hasn’t been clear when I’ve asked? But I try not to question excellent baked goods. Anyway. Sofa there. Or the chair. I’ll get the tea on.” Farran disappeared into a hallway.
It left Vega in the front room. The flat wasn’t large, she thought. It was about the size of her rooms. Though she thought from the width of the building that he likely had his own loo and bath, rather than sharing one in the hall like she did. He had a sofa, two chairs, all in the sort of inoffensive colours of a hotel.Farran had said this had been let by Ormulu, so she assumed, like so many places she’d lived herself, it only had a few personal touches. The more portable ones.
