That wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. Not sure what his angle was, her brain scrambled. But she could offer only the truth. “I have, yes.”

“I thought so. I must ask a favor of you.”

Redirection, perhaps? A ploy to get her to pay attention to something else, anything else? Margot lifted her brows.

Hall let out a slow breath. “I have just received word that her brother has been critically injured. He’ll be arriving at Charing Cross Hospital in a few days.”

Margot’s spine sagged. Drake Elton, of the broken nose and insightful questions, injured? It shouldn’t hit her that hard after a whole five minutes in his company, but it did. He did so easily what she struggled to do at all—connect with people, quickly and correctly. It should have insulated him, somehow, against such things.

And then there was Dot. Poor Dot!

Her stomach soured a little more than it had already been. Poor Dot and stupid Margot—assuming this was about her. It wasn’t, and she was a selfish wretch to have assumed it would be. She cleared the regret from her throat. “What can I do?”

“I realize that in times of war, bad news often trips over itself—that in the grand scheme, it is not surprising that her brother would have suffered such an injury while she is trying to be there for you and your family. But I am also aware that Miss Elton’s emotions are . . . fragile.”

Margot bristled on her friend’s behalf. “They most certainly are not.”

Hall’s lips turned up. “I didn’t mean it as an insult, my dear. I only say it to indicate that I wish to be mindful of her state and not spring this on her in a way that will injure her.”

Her chin edged back up from where it had sagged. “I am not questioning your motivations, DID. Just your assumption.”

The turning of his lips grew to an outright grin. “So you would have had me let the telegram go straight to her, in the hand of a stranger, rather than one of us delivering the news in a way to soften the blow, is that it?”

“Zero.”

The admiral blinked at her. “Pardon?”

“The number of times you’ve let anyone in Room 40 receive difficult news from the War Office by the hand of a stranger.” A week ago, she would have given him a cheeky smile. Today she could only manage the quirk of a brow. “Of course I’m not saying to treat her with less care than anyone else. But she needn’t be handled with kid gloves. She isn’t an egg.”

Obviously still amused, Hall spread his hands. “Her brother said—”