Page 42 of The Vanished

Not to mention our own, Quinn thought. “You go on. I need a few minutes.”

Gabe nodded. She didn’t need to spell it out for him. As soon as the bedroom door closed behind him, she pulled out the case containing the earring from her bag and settled in an armchair farthest from the window.

Someone else’s troubles seemed vastly preferable just then.

TWENTY-SEVEN

DECEMBER 1923

Ravenglass

Geneva watched the newcomer over the top of her book as he entered the tearoom. He crossed to the first available table, set down his case, removed his hat, and draped his coat over a vacant chair before sitting. He looked tired, and a little lost, but the fatigue did nothing to diminish his air of debonair elegance.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Mrs. Lynley said as she sidled up to him. “What can I get you?”

The man smiled up at her. “Do you have coffee?”

Geneva liked the way he said “coffee.” He had a lovely accent.

“I’m afraid we only serve tea,” Mrs. Lynley replied rather huffily. “It being a tearoom.”

The man nodded as if she had just confirmed his worst suspicions. “Tea, then. And a sandwich. Ham, if you have it. I’m famished.”

“Of course, sir.”

Mrs. Lynley clearly did not hold with foreigners, but Geneva was intrigued. Given the man’s accent and the timing of his arrival, he could very well be Jesseph Bellamy, and, if he was, she was grateful of the opportunity to observe him. Unfortunately, the man noticed her interest and smiled. She could hardly pretend she hadn’t seen, so she smiled back. His table was close enough for them to converse, and he availed himself of the opportunity.

“I feel like I have been traveling for days,” he said wearily.

“Where were you traveling from?” Geneva asked politely.

“Southampton. It’s not a straightforward journey, and required an overnight stay in London.”

“And before that?”

“New York. I arrived yesterday, on the RMS Olympic.”

Geneva had never traveled farther than London or spent the night in a hotel, and the idea of crossing the ocean aboard a luxury liner struck her as incredibly romantic. She imagined beautifully dressed passengers sipping martinis, dancing to the strains of a live orchestra, and lingering over exquisite meals served by white-gloved waiters. Later, they would retreat to their elegant cabins and drift off to sleep to the restless murmur of the sea, lulled by the gentle rocking of the ship. The reality was likely far more mundane, but she could dream, since she wasn’t likely to experience a transatlantic voyage for herself anytime soon.

“Did you have a pleasant voyage?” Geneva asked. It was obvious the man was eager to talk, and she was genuinely interested.

“As pleasant as can be expected at this time of year. The sea was a bit rough, and it was freezing up on the deck, but she’s a fine ship, and I met some interesting people.” He chuckled. “It’s been a long while since I had so much time to myself. I’m not much used to being idle.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m in banking. Are you by any chance local, miss?” he asked when she failed to comment on his occupation.

“Yes. I live a few miles outside the village.”

“I need to get out to Bellamy Hall. Do you know anyone who can take me?”

“I can drive you,” Geneva said.

“That’s very kind of you. I will be more than happy to compensate you for your trouble.” He looked momentarily unsure, then said, “May I join you, miss?”

Geneva set aside her book and smiled, hoping the expression came across as cool and sophisticated. She was pleased to discover that her newfound audacity had not deserted her. Perhaps it was the new hair, or the realization that Jesseph Bellamy was not a complete toad, but she found herself enjoying the unfamiliar sense of control.

“Mr. Bellamy, I presume?” she asked coyly.