Still, they were a team in this. It was a struggle to balance that against his better senses, his knowledge that through her very presence he was seduced by her. It was time for him to start trying to shift the balance the other way.
"Mary—Miss Geis," he said. She stopped without turning to face him. "I should know where you'll be staying. So that I can keep you appraised of the situation."
When she turned to face him, he couldn't understand her expression.
"I'll be staying at Hyde Park, of course. My family always stays there. We have a regular room, so it should be no trouble at all. Just ask for me."
"Of course," he said. "You've seen my address, of course, but let me write it down for you. In case there are any emergencies."
He took a notebook from his jacket pocket and jotted down his address before tearing it off.
"There. I'll come and speak with you tonight, after I've had time to speak with Mr. Stump. Once he's told me what I need to know, we'll be able to make plans for what to do next."
"Very good," Mary said, and then turned and left.
James didn't have time to worry about why she was acting strangely. Before he had left, he'd sent off a letter to the hospital asking for only a couple of weeks' extension on his father's bills. With some luck, he would have an answer from them. With a little more, they would have agreed.
There was an envelope, stuck into the mail slot of his front door. He yanked it loose when he closed the door. It was marked as having been sent by the hospital. He tore it open.
It began professionally. They always did, particularly when there was bad news. They had considered his petition for an extension. Then they'd decided against it. When would be convenient for them to come and pick up the money he owed?
He let the paper drop onto the bedside table and laid down in his own bed. It was strange; he'd been gone less than a week, and it seemed like his bed was an exotic luxury. Familiar, pleasant, and at the same time, distant. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he closed his eyes and drifted off.
13
Mary
James seemed mad. What did he want from her? Mary frowned and kept walking, trying to make her entire posture seem controlled. Everything about him was erratic. First he tries to leave without a word to her. She'd been waiting for him to say something the entire ride, and the more that he didn't, the more frustrated it made her.
Then they arrive, and he wants to know where her hotel is, like he was her keeper? How could one man frustrate her so? Every other thing he did only served to render the thing before it meaningless. She needed him, she knew. And she wanted him. But that didn't mean she had to like him, did it? If it did, he was making it awfully difficult.
It had been years since Mary had been to the hotel, not long after they had first started to keep the room, but remembering where it was seemed natural, and she didn't have to stop for directions once. Of course, when she got close it became easier and easier to remember, and then the letters over the door told her that she'd found the right place.
A doorman held the door for her and she stepped in. A boy came in a uniform and took her bag from her, and followed her up to the desk. She came up to the desk and waited only a moment.
"Can I help you, ma'am?"
"Yes, I'm Mary Geis, my family keeps a room here?"
He looked at her a moment before nodding, and looked down at the counter in front of him. She could see him running his finger down a page, and then a second, and then his brow furrowed.
That was a bad sign.
He turned to the young man standing beside him, and whispered something. Then he smiled at her reassuringly, and the other fellow walked off hurriedly.
That was just as bad.
Mary wished they would just tell her what the problem was, surely it was all a mistake that they could resolve easily. After all, her family had kept a room here, all paid and accounted-for since it opened. She had personally met Otto Goring.
"It'll be just one moment, there seems to have been some sort of confusion."
Mary bit her lip and tried not to lose her temper. She knew that she had a bad habit of becoming incensed when things didn't turn out exactly the way she had wanted, and she could feel the anger rising up in the pit of her belly. What sort of incompetent fools were these?
Someone came over, in a finely-tailored suit and was immediately pointed over to her.
"What's the issue here, Brian?"
"Well, sir—this is Mary Geis. The Geis family has one of our Belgravia suites, and, ah..."