Page 73 of Deadly Passion

“The car is waiting out front,” Ralph says. “It’ll take us straight to the wake.”

“The wake?” I frown. “Do we really have to go?”

“Yes, we do,” he says definitively.

“I don’t think I’ll be welcome,” I say. “Everyone already thinks I’m a drug addict, responsible for Beatrice’s death, or both.”

“Don’t be silly, Sebastian,” Mum brushes over it. “It’s an intimate gathering. There’s nothing for you to worry about. I think I know the mother of one of the girls who was spreading false gossip, and I can—”

“I already made note of their names,” Ralph says. “I’ll pass them to the palace. They can monitor their online activity and make sure nothing unpleasant is shared widely.”

Mother’s approving smile makes Ralph beam. He’s still recovering from getting chastised for having his phone out earlier, so this has helped to restore his golden boy status. His constant need for approval is pathetic.

“Who knew your private education would have prepared you to go into MI5?” I murmur.

Ralph claps me on the shoulder. “At least one of us does right by the crown, Seb.”

“I’d…” I hesitate as we leave. “I’d like to pay my final respects.”

“Why? Have you finally decided you want to spend time with the girl now that she’s dead?” Mother shakes her head. “I don’t understand you sometimes, Sebastian.”

“Calm down, sweetheart,” Father says. “The boy wants to pay his respects at the burial. He can meet us at the car when he’s done.”

She and Ralph scowl in response but grudgingly nod in agreement and head off. If my father knew my actual plans, I’m sure he wouldn’t be as amenable. Like them, half of the funeral party has also chosen to exit hastily, while the rest mill around, waiting for the coffin to be taken to the graveside. I join the remaining mourners and lean against the church wall alone, keeping Trout in my view until I get my chance.

He parts from the group to light a cigarette, and I swoop in to make my move.

This is it.

“Sebastian Montgomery!” Trout’s eyes light up as I approach. He holds out his packet of Marlboros, which I politely decline. “What a pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s Christopher Trout, isn’t it? I’m sure Beatrice mentioned you in one of our conversations,” I say.

“Sweet girl,” he says wistfully. His pupils dilate at the mention of her name, making my stomach churn. “What a shame.”

I try to keep my tone light-hearted. “I understand you’ve been a friend of the McGowan family for a long time.”

“That’s right.” He takes a long drag of his cigarette. “Lord McGowan and I went way back to our university days.”

“I thought so. You know, it’s good timing that we ran into each other.” I step closer and lower my voice. “There’s a delicate matter I need to discuss with the McGowan family. But on a day like today, it doesn’t seem appropriate. I thought you might—”

“Relay the message?” he interrupts enthusiastically, taking the bait.

He’s on the edge of my line, and I’m reeling him in.

“Exactly,” I say. “I wouldn’t usually ask, but I’ll be leaving the city for a while on business. It’s something I’d rather discuss in person.”

“Absolutely,” he says, crushing what’s left of his cigarette underfoot. “I understand your need for discretion at a time like this.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch the group who remained for the burial begin to shuffle in the opposite direction in dribs and drabs. I nudge my head back towards the church, planning to lure him around the other side, away from everyone else. A distraught mourner’s melodramatic sobs provide us with the perfect distraction to slink away.

“You’ve come to the right person,” Trout says. He doesn’t know how right he is. “You’ll have to introduce me to your father next time he’s around. I’ve always wanted to meet him.”

“Of course,” I lie. “I’m sure he’d love to make your acquaintance.”

Although, not as much as a killer redhead would.

“We could go inside?” he suggests, pausing at the door.

---