Rebel Magisters (Rebel Mechanics #2)(62)

My friend greeted us at the shop. “Hello, miss, what can we do for you today?” she asked, darting her eyes from Olive to me, then raising a quizzical eyebrow. I’d never brought one of the children here with me before.

“We need flowers for my uncle,” Olive informed her. “He’s been sick, but he’s coming home, and I want to make him happy.”

“That is very kind of you,” the shopgirl said. “Do you know what his favorite color is?”

Olive gasped. “I don’t know! Do you, Miss Newton?”

“I’m afraid it hasn’t come up in conversation,” I said.

“Do you know some things he likes?” the girl asked.

“He likes bugs,” Olive said.

“Bugs?”

“He studies insects,” I explained.

“Then what about something in the colors of a monarch butterfly?” the girl suggested. She moved around the shop, pulling stems in shades of yellow, orange, and gold from buckets of flowers. She arranged them all in a bouquet. “Like this?” she asked Olive.

Olive clapped her hands. “Yes! It’s perfect. May I carry it home, Miss Newton?”

“Yes, but you must be very careful.”

Olive was so busy staring at the bouquet she held that I was certain she didn’t notice me passing a note to the shopgirl along with payment. “Mrs. Talbot will help us find a vase for the flowers, won’t she?” Olive said as the shopgirl read the note and nodded to me.

That errand accomplished, I wasn’t sure which I anticipated more, Henry’s return or the response from my rebel contacts. I was a little worried about the timing, since the publication of the article coinciding with Henry’s return from the place where the letter had been stolen might look suspicious.

That anxiety was eclipsed when Mr. Chastain brought me a note while Olive, Mrs. Talbot, and I were putting the flowers in a vase. “This was just delivered for you, Miss Newton,” he said.

Frowning, I opened it. Ostensibly, it was from my sister, but my sister had made no effort to contact me since I’d left home, and I didn’t think any member of my family even knew where I was. The handwriting was wrong, and it was signed, “Your loving sister,” with no name.

“What is it, Miss Newton?” Mrs. Talbot asked, sounding concerned. I supposed that my confusion might have resembled distress.

“My sister is in town, and she’s invited me to join her for tea at the Astoria this afternoon.”

“That’s very short notice.”

“It must have been an unexpected trip.”

“You must go, then. I’ll get Rollo from school.”

“But you have so much to do, preparing for Lord Henry’s return.”

“Now really, do you think Lord Henry expects much of anything? You know he’d tell you to visit your sister. Go!”

Since I didn’t believe for a moment that it really was my sister, and I was fairly certain this sudden invitation was a response to my request for a clandestine meeting, I was sure of what Henry would say. I changed into a nicer dress, put on my best hat, and hid my article in the lining of my reticule.

When I came downstairs, Mr. Chastain had secured a cab for me, and I felt like a grand lady as I journeyed to the hotel. Once there, I glanced around, feeling somewhat lost. I would recognize my own sister, of course, but I knew I wasn’t likely meeting her, and I didn’t know who would be playing that role.

A tall, elegant woman in a rather spectacular feather-festooned hat rose from a table tucked away in a corner behind some potted palms. “Verity, darling, there you are!” she said, crossing the room to take my hands. “You’re such a dear to meet me. I must apologize for the short notice, but I didn’t know until we arrived that I would have time to see you.”

It took all my self-control not to gape, for my “sister” was Lizzie, but as I’d never seen her before. I might not even have recognized her. Not only was she dressed in the height of fashion, but the hair that showed beneath her hat was a brown that matched mine rather than her usual fiery red, and her freckles had been so skillfully covered with cosmetics that I only knew artifice was involved because I knew what she normally looked like. I supposed the theatrical society the rebels hid behind had its uses. She’d managed to disguise her usual slight Irish lilt so that she spoke very much like I did.

“Of course I’d make time for you,” I said as soon as I recovered my wits.

She led me to our table, and as I sat, I whispered, “This is all rather elaborate, isn’t it?”

“Your message sounded urgent. Our florist telegraphed as soon as you were gone.”

“It is urgent. It’s the most urgent thing I’ve done yet.”

“Now I am intrigued.” As a waiter approached with a teapot, she raised her voice slightly and said, “I hope you don’t mind if I already ordered. You like Assam, as I recall.”

“Yes, that’s lovely, thank you.”

When the waiter had gone, she grinned and added, “You certainly dumped enough of it in the harbor.”

“I’m surprised that you’re drinking tea now. I thought that was off-limits.”

“How better to disguise our clandestine activity? You needed a meeting that wouldn’t be at all suspicious.”