Chapter 9

Saffron was ready to fall into bed when she returned home that evening, but Elizabeth had other ideas. "Where have you been?" she demanded, tugging Saffron's coat from her shoulders the moment she walked through the door at seven-thirty.

Nonplussed, Saffron replied, "At work, of course."

"Nick telephoned," she said, now tugging Saffron's gloves off. "He's taking us to dinner."

"Tonight?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said, giving Saffron a dark look before pushing her toward her bedroom. "He'll be here at eight o'clock to collect us, destination unknown. He said dinner, drinks, and dancing, and you are woefully unprepared for any of those things."

"What's the occasion?" She ought to have noticed when Elizabeth first attacked her that she was dressed to the nines in her best evening dress. The pink silk shimmered with embroidery as she crossed to Saffron's wardrobe.

Elizabeth barked out a laugh, pushing around Saffron's anemic collection of evening gowns. "My birthday."

"He does know that isn't until Sunday, correct?"

"I didn't deign to inform him of his mistake."

Saffron submitted herself to Elizabeth's expert ministrations. By eight o'clock, her long brown hair was perfectly waved and bundled at the back of her head, pinned by a glittering faux sapphire barrette; her matching blue dress dripped its handkerchief points to her calves.

Saffron eyed her reflection in the mirror in the parlor, where she and Elizabeth waited. She was dressed as she might have to portray Sally Eversby but without the heavy coating of makeup. Only her lashes were curled and her lips were red with lipstick. She looked really quite nice.

Nick seemed to agree. He was generous in his praise of both his sister and Saffron when he arrived at eight sharp. He cut an impressive figure himself in his evening kit. They packed tightly into the waiting cab, with Saffron in the middle. The night was cold and had a tang of woodfire mixed with automobile exhaust, but within the cab, Saffron was assaulted by Nick's and Elizabeth's opposing scents, muddled by the slightly musty smell of the cab.

"Where are we going?" Elizabeth asked.

"A surprise" was Nick's only reply.

A surprise it was, for when the cab rolled to a stop and the door opened to reveal their location, Elizabeth could not hide her wonder.

"The Savoy," she breathed, her face illuminated by the lights of the grand hotel. The building soared overhead with a hundred windows reflecting colorful pinpoint lights of the Strand.

Saffron bit her lip, glancing between Elizabeth and Nick. Elizabeth looked like she might cry; Nick looked as if his desired outcome had been achieved.

Elizabeth gasped as she put out her hands to grip Nick's arm. Eyes huge, she demanded, "Is Ada Coleman here?"

The famous lady bartender of the Savoy's American Bar would be at the top of Elizabeth's list of things to see at the Savoy. Nick only grinned and tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. "Let's find out."

Either Nick had observed that Elizabeth had a great love of gastronomy or he was banking on any young woman being dazzled by the Savoy. Dining at a world-famous restaurant might have been enough to thaw the ice between Elizabeth and her brother, but treating her to a Hanky-Panky at the American Bar first left Elizabeth close to putty in his hands before the meal had even begun.

Elizabeth laughed at Nick's quips, of which there were many during their excellent meal, and didn't roll her eyes when he smiled broadly at Saffron, which was even more frequent.

"And the entire time I failed to notice that the cow was, in fact, a bull," Nick said, concluding yet another amusing tale of his seemingly bumbling service in the Agricultural Ministry.

"Little wonder they moved me to crops," he said, turning to Saffron once again.

She had enjoyed the meal—certainly not as much as Elizabeth, but it had put her into a very good mood. The cocktail at the bar and the expertly paired wines with each course had helped her forget the trials of the day. "What sort of trouble do you get into in fields, rather than pastures?"

Elizabeth paused with her fork just before her mouth. "There will be no talk of manure at the Savoy."

"Of course not," Nick said mildly before stretching an arm out and over to the back of Saffron's chair. "It's a recent change, I'm to set out for my first assignment soon. Some sort of fungi is plaguing a couple of farms to the north, so I'll be heading that way to investigate." He stretched his other arm to touch Elizabeth's chair, adding, "That's why we had to celebrate your birthday early, my dear. I'll be ducking out for a few days and might not be back until Sunday night."

Elizabeth blinked slowly at him. "I see. Your consideration is exceptional."

Saffron narrowed her eyes at her friend across the table. Elizabeth was a handful when sober, and she was downright troublesome drunk. Saffron's hopes that the Savoy's glamor would maintain her friend's pleasant mood may have been a bit high.

Saffron glanced around the stunning dining room for a waiter. To the table at large, she said, "I do hope dessert is on its way."

Either Nick did not notice the slow shift in his sister's mood or he thought that dancing would help it, for when the meal ended, he whisked them into another cab.

The band could be heard before the cab stopped.

Saffron shot Nick a questioning look as he hopped up onto the pavement next to her. The club, while evidently very popular, was a far cry from the elegant extravagance of the Savoy. She'd never heard of Lou's Place in the West End, its name illuminated by pink neon and tucked in among a dozen other shops, hotels, and venues. This part of town was exactly up Elizabeth's alley, however.

"Ah," she said with a lazy grin, "good ol' Lou's."

Inside, Saffron was forcibly reminded of the Blue Room, the staging place of her last adventure. Though the room did not glow with eerie blue light, it was smoky and loud enough to rattle her bones.

She tightened her arm around Elizabeth's as they were shown to a tiny table on the edge of the dance floor. The place was done up in silver and pink, with a glittering stage to one side and a large bar covered in mirrors on the other.

Nick summoned a waiter and ordered a trio of cocktails. The band incited cheers from the dancers as they rattled out song after song of popular dance tunes. Saffron wasn't sure how their party was to manage dancing with only one man. Though from the sort of dancing happening on the floor, it was unlikely Elizabeth would want to be paired with her brother.

She'd just opened her mouth to murmur the question to Elizabeth when she caught sight of a familiar face through the haze of cigarette smoke.

"Alexander?" Saffron breathed.

Elizabeth cast her a sidelong glance. "Sorry, love, but I am in no mood to hear about the most recent chapter in the Ashton saga."

Saffron watched Alexander's figure as he wove from the bar through the crowd. He reached a table and slipped into the booth to sit.

She was on her feet before she could determine what exactly she'd say to him when she reached him. She was angry he was there, but why was that? Had she imagined the protestations of his interest in her meant he would never go out dancing? Was he there with someone else?

Her last question was answered when she reached the table. A pretty red-haired girl was leaning close, tracing her finger along the rim of the martini glass on the table before him. Her stomach clenched. Not only was he with another woman, but he was drinking alcohol, which he'd told her he never did anymore.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice cold and clear over the noise of the club.

The couple turned to look at her. The girl's eyes dipped to take in Saffron's appearance with an unimpressed smirk. The man, however, was not Alexander.

His coloring was the same, with black hair pushed back from his olive-toned face and eyes the same shape and color. But his face was longer, thinner, and his eyes far more deeply shadowed. Not to mention that Alexander had never smiled at her so openly as this man did.

Her mouth snapped closed the moment she realized it was hanging open. "I beg your pardon," she mumbled, "I thought you were someone else." She turned away and attempted to disappear into the crowd.

She'd taken not three steps before a warm hand on her shoulder stopped her.

A strong sense of déjà vu claimed her as she turned. It was the man from the booth, and the action of turning her just as Alexander had done the day before sent her head swimming. She was never having a cocktail and wine in such rapid succession again.

"Excuse me," he said, shouting a bit to be heard over the band. "But you are …?"

"Er—I'm mistaken, that's all. I thought you were a friend of mine. Sorry."

The man's smile only grew, threatening to overstretch his thin face. "What friend?"

Nonplussed, she replied, "A colleague."

"Ah, you are from the university?"

Between the man's slight accent barely audible over the music and his surprising supposition, it took Saffron a moment to understand him. "I—sorry?"

"You thought me to be my brother, I think," he said. "He works at a university not far from here, so you must as well."

Saffron's mouth fell open again. "You're Alexander's brother?"

A laugh broke out from the man, and he threw his head back with the force of it. "I am. I am Adrian Ashton. But who are you?"