They had a quick bite to eat at a nearby pastry shop and were back at the bank at a quarter to one. Taking up their previous positions by the wall, they watched the steady stream of customers approach the grilles before the two tellers.
The bank’s customers were a mix of well-to-do gentry and prosperous merchants, with one or two less prosperous among them.
At just after one o’clock a striking woman—tall but not young, well dressed but not, to Letitia’s discerning eye, expensively enough for the ton—walked into the bank, a lumbering giant at her heels.
The giant was plainly a guard; the way he hovered by the woman, constantly scanning the surrounds even inside the bank, underscored his role. The woman seemed largely oblivious to the stares the giant drew; head high, she waited in line for one of the tellers, then advanced to the counter, drew a large canvas bag from inside the even larger tapestry bag she carried, placed it on the counter and pushed it toward the teller.
Who, as he reached for the bag, glanced at Christian and all but imperceptibly nodded.
Letitia felt her eyes grow wide. She glanced up at Christian.
He took her arm and drew her to her feet. Lowering his head, he murmured, “There’s only one door. Let’s wait outside.”
Letitia cast another glance at the couple at the counter, then let him lead her out.
On the pavement, she shook her head. “Surely Randall didn’t keep a circus?”
His hand still wrapped about her elbow, Christian steered her a little way along the street. “I don’t think that’s it.”
She looked up at him. “What, then?”
Lips firming, he shook his head. He halted outside the window of an adjacent apothecary’s, turned her as if they were looking inside. “We’ll follow them when they come out.”
“Why can’t we simply ask them what they’ve just paid for?”
His lips thinned even more. “We can ask later. Let’s see what business they come from first.”
She frowned, but then the door of the bank swung open and the woman came out, followed by the giant. They turned away from the apothecary’s and walked off in the opposite direction.
Letitia turned to follow. Christian anchored her hand on his sleeve and strolled, keeping her beside him.
She inwardly frowned at his pace, but she had to assume he knew what he was doing. In his past occupation, he’d no doubt followed people often.
And it was hardly difficult to keep their quarry in sight; the giant towered over everyone. He was wearing a plaid felt cap; even when Christian insisted on dropping half a block behind as they turned up Shaftesbury Avenue, Letitia could track the pair with ease.
Neither the woman nor the giant gave any indication they’d realized they were being followed.
Letitia f
rowned. “We’ve followed far enough—they might be trudging for miles. Let’s catch up to them and just ask.”
“No.”
There was a grimness in Christian’s voice, mirrored in his face when she glanced up at it, that made her frown even more.
He glanced down briefly. “Not yet.”
She sighed; looking ahead, she continued trailing along beside him.
From Shaftesbury Avenue their striking duo turned south into Wardour Street. Letitia glanced narrow-eyed at Christian. “Not yet?”
He didn’t even reply.
If she’d thought she could, she would have slipped her hand from beneath his, picked up her skirts and run after their quarry, hailing them and then simply asking directly for the answer they needed. How could that hurt?
But she held no illusions about how Christian would react; for all his size, he could move with startling speed when he wished—she doubted she’d even be able to draw her hand from beneath his before he caught it.
“This is—” She broke off as the pair stopped outside a town house. The area wasn’t a bad one, respectable enough; the town house was plain, but reasonably well-kept, with two steps leading up to an emerald green door.