Blood on the Strand by Susanna Gregory Page B

reek of onions. I swear he eats them
     raw! And his clothes are horribly unfashionable. Yet even so, I prefer him to Lord Clarendon and his moralising.’
    Chaloner regarded her askance. ‘You are in love with your new beau, but you let Bristol kiss you?’
    She pushed him playfully. ‘I still need to earn a crust, and Spymaster Williamson wanted information only Bristol could provide.
     It was not easy to flutter my eyelashes at one without the other noticing, but I have always enjoyed a challenge.’
    ‘I wish you would not take such risks,’ said Scot unhappily. ‘Now you have captured Behn’s heart, you have no reason to court
     danger on Williamson’s behalf.’
    ‘Bristol is hardly dangerous,’ said Eaffrey contemptuously. ‘Not to me, at least – although Lord Clarendon should watch him.
     Do not look shocked, Tom. I have always said that lying with a man is the easiest way to make him part with his secrets, although
     I would not recommend
you
try it. It is best left to women, who know what they are doing.’
    ‘I am not shocked,’ said Chaloner, who knew perfectly well why Eaffrey often succeeded where her male colleagues failed. ‘I
     am concerned. White Hall is a breeding ground for gossip, and it will only be a matter of time before someone tells your Johan
     about Bristol. You may lose him … ’
    She flapped her hand impatiently. ‘He will never find out. Try this tansy. It is rather unusual.’
    ‘Sugar-coated spinach is rarely anything else.’ Chaloner tried again to make his point. ‘If your lover learns that you and
     Bristol—’
    ‘Did you hear about that murder on The Strand three weeks ago?’ interrupted Eaffrey. She ate more tansy, not seeming to care
     that the landlord had provided them with some very odd victuals. ‘A wealthy merchant was reeling home from the annual Guinea
     Company dinner, when he was stabbed.’
    Scot grimaced. ‘I inveigled an invitation to that particu lar feast – as Peter Terrell – because my would-be brother-in-law
     is a member of the Guinea Company, and I wanted to watch him on his home turf. It was a tedious occasion, and I shall devise
     another way to spy on the fellow in future.’
    ‘You found it tedious?’ asked Eaffrey. ‘Johan was there, and
he
said it was overly lively. He reported several violent arguments, three of which were settled by duels the following morning.’
    Chaloner watched her eat. ‘Is that what happened to the man killed on The Strand? He lost a duel?’
    ‘I have no idea – I only mentioned him as a means to stop you passing judgement on my personal life. It was the first thing
     that came into my head. The second is William’s brother: how is he surviving in the Tower?’
    ‘Why is he still in prison at all?’ asked Chaloner curiously. ‘Surely he must have told Williamson everything he knows by
     now? And anyway, I thought the agreement was for him to reveal the identities of his conspirators and then be allowed to live
     out his days in peaceful exile.’
    ‘So did I,’ replied Scot bitterly, ‘but unfortunately, somesenior officials are now saying Williamson did not have the authority to make such a pact. I wish you were not so keen to
     follow a career in intelligence, Chaloner. Now is the time to leave the spying business, not immerse yourself more deeply
     in it.’
    ‘The beggar May shot today mentioned you before he died,’ said Chaloner. He did not have the luxury to make the choice Scot
     was suggesting, because he needed to earn a living and was qualified to do very little else. ‘He told me Terrell is not what
     he says.’
    Scot regarded him uneasily. ‘Obviously he is right, but how did
he
know?’
    ‘He must have discovered that “Terrell” is an alias.’ Eaffrey finished the tansy with a satisfied sigh. ‘Someone in Williamson’s
     office has been indiscreet.’
    Scot was thoughtful. ‘The only spy I do not trust is Adrian May, but even he has more sense than to gossip about such