She was twenty-three. A woman grown. Old enough to be married, to have children, to manage a household of her own. But it took only that intonation from her mother to feel ten again, caught eating pilfered sweets with Ivy when they ought to have been in bed. She sighed. “Since Blinker was appointed DID. But it’s mostly just developing photos, I rarely—”

“Don’t!” Mama sliced a hand through the air. “Don’t make excuses. I don’t care what you do or rarely do at the OB. What I care about is the fact that you and your father have willfully deceived me!”

Lily dropped her gaze. What answer could she really give to that?

She looked up again, though, when Mama made a sound she wasn’t sure how to classify. Gasp? Sob? Hard to say, given that she’d turned her back on her. “I thought we were close. That you and I were . . . Clearly I was wrong.”

“Mama—”

It wasn’t the hand held up that stopped her words. It was the slump to her shoulders. “Go to bed, Lilian.”

She cast a glance toward her camera bag, the film she’d hoped to develop. But she wasn’t about to argue. She nudged the bag a little more out of the way and then stepped from the room, pulling the door shut behind her. Drawing even with her mother, she reached to touch a hand to her arm.

Mama pulled back. Folded her arms over her chest. Stared straight ahead, though there was nothing for her gaze to rest on save a bare wall.

Lily sagged and slunk by her.

She intercepted a grim-faced Daddy at the base of the central staircase. He looked past her, but apparently Mama hadn’t followed her out, because his glance returned quickly to her face. “I will take care of this with your mother. You go on up to your room.”

She nodded but didn’t move away. “Why were you behaving as you were with Mr. Marin?”

Thunder rolled through his eyes anew. “I’ll not go into details. Suffice it to say Hall received information today that sheds a suspicious light. You’ll discontinue your association with him until further notice.”

“What? But, Daddy—”

“I’ll not tolerate you questioning me on this, Lilian. You will obey. Now go.”

Given that he stalked off, she didn’t have much choice. She mounted the steps slowly, eyes stinging. How could a night that began so very well go so very wrong?

15

MONDAY, 20 MAY 1918

Someone was following him.

Zivon kept walking at his normal pace, his gaze on the Old Admiralty Building, just visible when he rounded the corner. Correction. Two someones were following him. The newer addition was so obvious it was nearly laughable—scurrying behind other pedestrians or darting into a doorway if Zivon happened to turn a bit. Obviously never considering that he could sense him, hear him, and see him in reflections.