What Happens in London (Bevelstoke #2)(90)

“Shut up,” Vladimir said. He glared at Harry, as if anticipating an interruption. “Both of you. Now listen to me.” He stepped forward, and his foot met with the bottle on the floor. It skittered across the room, spraying what was left of the vodka. Vladimir grunted in disgust but made no comment. After eyeing both men assessingly, he continued speaking. “I have inspected the building, and I believe that Lady Olivia is still inside.”

“Why do you think that?” Harry asked.

“There are guards at every door.”

“For a party?”

Vladimir shrugged. “There are many reasons to protect the contents of the house.”

Harry waited for more, but Vladimir did not elaborate. God above, it was just like talking with Winthrop. Harry hadn’t realized until this very moment how much he hated it—all those vague sentences and We have our ways.

“None of the guards saw her depart,” Vladimir continued. “The only door she might have exited without detection is the main one, where the party is.”

“She did not return to the party,” Harry said, then clarified: “She went to the washroom, but she did not return to the party.”

“Are you certain?”

He gave one sharp nod. “I am.”

“Then we must assume she did not leave the building. We don’t know if she reached the washroom—”

“She did,” Harry interrupted. He felt like an idiot for not mentioning this sooner. “She was there for some time. Her friend told me she saw her there.”

“Who is this friend?” Vladimir asked.

Harry shook his head. “I can’t recall her name. But she won’t have any useful information. She said she left before Olivia did.”

“She may have seen something. Find her,” Vladimir ordered. “Bring her to me. I will question her.”

“That’s a bad idea,” Harry told him. “Unless you’re prepared to hold her hostage. She could not keep a secret if her own life depended upon it, never mind someone else’s.”

“You question her, then. We will meet back here.” Vladimir turned back to Alexei. “You stay here. In case they send another message.”

Alexei said something in response, but Harry did not hear him. He was already well down the hall, in search of that girl—whatever her name was.

“Stop!” Vladimir called.

Harry skidded to a halt and turned impatiently. They didn’t have time to waste.

“You don’t need to look for her,” Vladimir said gruffly. “It was a ruse to get you out of the room and leave him”—he jerked his head toward the small salon where Alexei waited—“in.”

Harry’s mind raced but his voice was even when he asked, “Do you suspect him of involvement?”

“Nyet. But he will be a nuisance. You, I think, now that you have had time to calm down…”

“Do not mistake this for calm,” Harry bit off.

Vladimir’s brows rose; nonetheless, he reached into his coat and pulled out a gun, handle first. He held it out to Harry. “I do not think you will do something stupid.”

Harry’s hand wrapped around the handle of the gun, but Vladimir did not let go. “Will you?” he asked.

Do something stupid? “No,” Harry said. And he prayed it would be true.

Vladimir kept his hand in place for several seconds more, then abruptly let go, waiting while Harry inspected the weapon. “Come with me,” he ordered, and the two of them moved swiftly down the hall and around a corner. Vladimir stopped in front of a door, glanced both ways, and then ducked into an empty room, motioning for Harry to follow. Vladimir held a finger over his lips, then inspected the room, making sure it was empty.

“The ambassador has her,” he said. “Or rather, his men do. He is still at the party.”

“What?” Harry had never met the man, save for that evening’s receiving line, but still, it was hard to believe.

“He needs money. He will be recalled to Russia soon, and he has little resources of his own.” Vladimir shrugged, then waved one his arms expansively, indicating their opulent surroundings. “He has become used to living in this palace. And he has always been jealous of his cousin.”

“What makes you think he took Olivia?”

“I have other men here,” Vladimir said cryptically.

“And that is all you’re going to tell me,” Harry said disgustedly, finally fed up with never being told 100 percent of a story.

“That is all I am going to tell you, my friend,” Vladimir said. He shrugged again. “It is safer that way.”

Harry did not speak. He did not trust himself to do so.

“Lady Olivia’s parents have noticed her disappearance,” Vladimir said.

Harry was not surprised. It had been well over an hour.

“As far as I know, it has not been noticed by anyone else,” Vladimir continued. “There is much vodka in the room. I do not think they realize there is some in the lemonade.”

Harry looked at him sharply. “What?”

“Did you not know?”

He shook his head. How many glasses had he had? Bloody hell. His head felt clear, but then again, would he even know the difference? He had never been drunk, never even the slightest bit impaired.