Adcock laughed. “If the king gave me a ring, you can bet I’d never take it off either. And you know, now that you mention it, perhaps DID can put a bug in his ear, what do you say? Royal-issued rings for all of us! That would shut up all those old biddies who berate us for having desk jobs.”

“I doubt it.” De Wilde stood as she spoke, crossing to the secretary’s desk where they put their handwritten decrypts in a basket to be typed up.

“Speaking of rings.” Adcock narrowed his eyes at her. “When’s this wedding of yours, De Wilde? We’re all invited, aren’t we?”

Never in his life had Zivon met a young woman like this one, who looked downright irritated at mention of her upcoming nuptials. “The nineteenth of May. Yes, everyone will be invited. And now can we get back to work, or would you like to help me pick out the pattern for my gown too?”

“Careful, De Wilde. You’ll have everyone thinking you’re reluctant to wed Elton if you keep up that attitude.” Camden reached over to snag another encoded piece of paper from the waiting stack of them.

“Don’t be an idiot.” De Wilde fetched a new message, too, and returned to her desk. “If you want to talk weddings, talk about your own.”

“Can’t. We can’t set anything in stone until Ara’s father gets back from Mexico.”

Zivon moved toward the door, rather eager to get to work himself. Though he didn’t mind when Adcock shot him a parting smile, along with, “I heard what you said to that bank clerk yesterday. Good one, old boy!”

Apparently Blackwell had already made good on his promise to share the story. Zivon smiled back and slipped across the corridor without another word.

He would always be Russian. Never really be English. But for the first time, the thought of staying here didn’t feel entirely like a sacrifice. Not if he could find a place like this one.

5

Evgeni sank onto a bench across the street from the church, not sure he could move another step if he had to. Every muscle and joint ached. Well, no. Some screamed, especially his ribs. Ache was far too benign a word for his ribs.

From somewhere in the distance, a boom sounded, making Evgeni wince. It seemed he’d arrived in Paris just in time for the Germans to unveil a new siege gun, one so massive that it had put the whole city into a panic. Every twenty-odd minutes, a new shell crashed down, and they could never tell where it would strike. It made for a restlessness, a slick of fear always under everyone’s feet.