Page 55 of Angel's Flight
Meg surprised herself with the way she said it – she was sweet and flirtatious.She usually hated making a show of being small and feminine and vulnerable for old men, because the patrons of the Opéra needed no encouragement, but there was a spark in Pomeroy’s eyes when she spoke.
“Yes.Well,” Pomeroy sighed as if this was an ongoing annoyance.“Many of my agents are in the field and working today.I do have one who specializes in female troubles, but she’s abroad at the moment.”
“Abroad?”Meg asked, batting her eyes.“Your agents travel so far?”
“Indeed,” the man said, puffing up proudly.“Our network is not as extensive as the Pinkertons, but it will be one day.My agents are willing to go to the ends of the earth for our clients.Though I can’t imagine your case will take us so far.”
“It must be thrilling to travel on such errands,” Meg smiled.“Shall we discuss more in your office or were you waiting for the rest of your staff?I’m sure there are many of them.”
“They are due back any moment,” Pomeroy replied, looking out the window and widening his eyes at something he saw.Meg moved to look, but the man stopped her – seizing her by the shoulder and herding her back down the hall.“Yes.You should wait in my office.I will deal with this.”
Meg was fascinated to see the man so flustered.What had he seen and who was coming inside that had upset him?The bell over the door rang just as she was shut in the office.Meg froze, listening.She was supposed to see if she could find any files or correspondence that might reveal who had hired these people to spy on Shaya.But that gut feeling – the one Shaya himself had told her never to ignore – wanted her to listen.
“What in God’s name are you doing walking in here looking like that?”Pomeroy growled.
“Thank you for your concern.I’m healing well,” a male voice replied with acid in his tone.“I thought you’d be happy I’m alive to keep doing my job.”
“You’ll only use this to ask for a raise,” Pomeroy replied.Meg dearly wished she could peek out the door and see what sort of state this other man was in.
“It would be a one-time bonus for being stabbed,” the man replied.Meg bit her lips so she wouldn’t gasp.
“Well, you won’t get a damn thing from me or Madame de Martiniac after how badly you bungled,” Pomeroy hissed.“I had to personally advance the money for Pauline to get a ticket to America only for it to be a dead end.You’re both useless.”
“He’s a wily devil.Any luck here?”the other man said as Meg’s brain started to feel like a kettle at a high boil.Had he said the name de Martiniac?How could that be?
“Nothing of note with the foreigner.Pierre is sick of following him,” Pomeroy answered.Meg nearly whooped in joy.She hadn’t had to riffle through files at all.
“Pauline has a plan, but it’s mad.We should check in with the client.This is getting expensive, not to mention dangerous,” the injured man said with affected boredom.He was pretending, and a man like Pomeroy would know that.
“Oh, you can’t fool me.You want to catch them as much as she does, don’t you?For pure revenge now,” Pomeroy said after a beat, proving Meg right.
“Do you mean Pauline or the client?”the other scoffed.
“I will discuss it with you later.I have someone in my office now who may have something simple for us that doesn’t involve a wild goose chase across Europe.”
“Or a fortune and a trail of dead bodies.”
“You didn’t die, for God’s sake.Pierre is at the Tuileries.Find him and bring him back so we can strategize.”
Meg once again heard the tinkling of the bell above the door.She barely had time to rush back to her seat before the desk and compose herself before Pomeroy reentered.
“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, Mademoiselle.Please, tell me more about what we can do for you.”
Meg smiled sweetly, as much to herself as to the older man.He had already done more for her than he could possibly know.
London
Christine’s excitementat meeting Letitia for tea before calling on Adèle had faded to anxiety.Erik’s clear worry about the encounter had not helped at all.She told him, and herself, that this was not another Pauline.This was a woman who was known (infamously) throughout London.She wouldn’t betray them.It could be dangerous to see Adèle, yes, but hopefully, Pauline was halfway to New York by now.
London felt different, Christine had decided.Or maybe it was better to say she felt different in London.Her nightmares had started to fade, replaced by dreams of green hills and empty libraries.She didn’t know what those visions meant, but she welcomed them, along with her waking fantasies of other ways to discipline her husband that were quite pleasant as well.Would a woman like Letitia know about such things or would that be too forward to ask about over tea?She would have to see how the friendship evolved.
This was a good thing, Christine assured herself as she fixed her hat and looked around the ornate interior of the tearoom to which she had been directed.It was filled with palms and fine China on display, as well as lamps of colored glass and ornately carved wood paneling.It screamed of riches, but in a subdued, English fashion.It was a sharp contrast to the simplicity of Paris bistros, and Christine doubted she would be able to get a good cup of coffee here.
“There you are, Mrs.Gilbride!”a trilling voice called, and Christine rose to greet the gorgeous woman.She was in a dress of pale yellow satin edged with lace, carrying a matching parasol.It didn’t escape Christine’s attention that most of the eyes in the room turned toward them as she rose to greet Letitia.
“It is so very good to see you,” Christine said in her rehearsed English, and Letitia pouted and placed a hand on Christine’s cheek.“Was that bad?”she asked in French.
“Not at all, my dear,” Letitia replied in French as well.A woman at the table next to theirs gave a quiet huff of disapproval.“I just love to speak French and scandalize stuck up English harpies.”Letitia turned to the woman and smiled.
