Page 84 of The King's Man
May shrugged. ‘If that’s her name.’
Jem wandered over. ‘If you’re talking about the Granville woman,’ he said, with a voice that had a grumble in it, ‘I needs to know if I hold on to her room, ’cos if not, I’ll pack her things up and let it.’
‘Come on, Jem, it’s not as if you have customers beating a path to stay at this inn,’ Kit commented.
‘It’s been over a week,’ Jem said. ‘These your friends?’ He jerked his head towards the door, where Lord Gerard and Willys stood, shaking the rain from their hats.
Kit deposited May on the stool beside him and stood up, gesturing for the two men to join him in a quiet corner.
‘Did you have a good crossing?’ Kit asked Lord Gerard.
‘Damned rough crossing,’ Gerard replied. ‘I heard about Fitzjames.’ He poured a glass of wine from the jug as Kit dealt a round of cards.
‘Did you know they found his body washed up on the shore? You were with him. What happened, Lovell?’ Willys asked.
Kit’s fingers tightened on the stem of his wineglass.
‘You know what I’m like at sea, Willys. It was a damnably rough crossing. I stayed below. I can only assume he went up for air and fell overboard. I didn’t even realise he was gone until we docked.’
Willys sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Lovell. I know he was a friend of yours.’
Kit took a large draught of wine and hoped his shaking hand did not betray him.
‘I know he was your friend, so what I have to say may come as a shock.’ Willys’ voice held a conspiratorial air as he carefully rearranged his cards. ‘I have heard that Fitzjames was carrying letters to Thurloe.’
‘What?’ Gerard looked up at Willys.
‘That’s right. Found in his pocket. Fitzjames was one of Thurloe’s agents.’
Kit stared at him. ‘Fitzjames? I don’t believe it.’ He could feel the bile rising in his throat even as he spoke.
Willys shook his head. ‘I know, I didn’t believe it either, but my source was quite sure. You just can’t tell who to trust, can you?’
‘That explains Dutton’s plot,’ said Kit, hating himself.
‘And other matters,’ Gerard agreed. He threw down his cards in disgust. ‘Lovell, you have the luck of the Devil.’
‘Ah, Messieurs, I am too late to join you for cards, perhaps?’
They all looked up at the incongruous figure of the Baron de Baas. Unbidden, Baas sat down at the table, carefully removing his purple gloves.
‘’Fraid so,’ Willys said. ‘Lovell here has just cleaned our purses.’
De Baas’ gaze flicked to Kit. ‘I don’t believe I ’ave ’ad the pleasure of Monsieur Lovell’s acquaintance.’
Kit inclined his head. He knew De Baas by sight of course, but close-up he presented an even more ridiculous picture. He dressed in what Kit knew to be the latest French fashion, lace and bows and a casually knotted cravat rather than falling bands, a costume made all the more incongruous by the shabby setting.
‘You seem particularly adept at cards, monsieur’ De Baas remarked.
‘Years of practice, my dear Baron.’ Kit shuffled the deck in his hands. ‘Will you play me?’
‘But of course.’ De Baas picked up the cards in his gloved hand.
They played in silence for a few minutes. To Kit’s surprise De Baas won. ‘I think I have met my match,’ he said, ruefully pushing the coins across the table.
‘Another hand? Perhaps your luck will change.’
‘Thank you, but no. I don’t feel luck is on my side at present, so I will keep my small purse intact.’
