Drake’s heart sank. “Not here in England, I’m afraid. I sent the few ships we had left to join my grandfather’s fleet in Spain until the war is over. Those blasted U-boats, you see.” He poured some steaming tea into a cup. “Wish I had better news for you. But with all our crewmen either down with the ships or joining the navy, there wasn’t much choice. Didn’t make sense to keep the offices open either. Once the war’s over, Abuelo and I plan to relocate half of everything back to London, but in the meantime . . .”

In the meantime, he had no job to offer Redvers Holmes. Would that he had. But there would be something he could do to help. There was always something. He had only to ask the right question.

Red sighed. “Assumed as much, but I thought I’d ask. Work’s rather hard to find when a chap only knows physical labor and can’t do it anymore.”

“You have some education though, don’t you? I know you and Nelson were chums—from school, I’d assumed.” With the shortage of men in London right now, he ought to be able to find a job in an office somewhere.

Red’s cheeks flushed to match his name. “I was never much good with letters and figures. They tend to, well, jump around on me. But I’ve a good memory. And my hands aren’t impaired, and I’ve always been good with them, much to the dismay of my father, who always claimed the Holmeses were better than that.” He snorted. “Glad he can’t see what’s become of us now.”

The question had yielded an answer, anyway. Education might lend a bit of pedigree, but it didn’t guarantee a position if one couldn’t put it to use. Something else, then. Drake picked up the cup and saucer and made his slow way toward the sitting area. “I’d offer you sugar, but Dot has forbidden me on pain of death from touching her stash before the dinner party this weekend.”

“I never take any, regardless.” His smile flashed bright. Then faded. Red took the cup when Drake eventually reached him with it.

Drake sat with a whoosh of breath and a wince. “I’ll be happy to put out some inquiries for you, Red. As you can see, the war has indeed hit us hard.” He waved to the small flat—a far cry from the house the Eltons had once called home. “But some of Father’s old friends have fared better. One of them may be in need of a trustworthy worker—I can certainly vouch for you.”