Inez sat back in her seat and sighed. "It probably doesn't matter anyway. It was just bugging me."

They fell silent, both concentrating on their drinks and m.u.f.fins, and then Inez glanced around.

"What is it?" Thomas asked, noting at once.

"I was just wondering where the ladies' room is," she admitted.

He glanced around the upper floor, and then said, "I don't see one up here, but there's one downstairs next to the stairs."

"Thank you. I'll be right back."

Grabbing her purse, Inez stood, and walked to the stairs. She descended them slowly, finding them a bit steep for her comfort. Relieved once she'd reached the ground floor, she glanced around for a sign for the ladies' room.

"Can I help you, miss?"

Inez glanced toward the speaker with a start, her eyes widening as she found herself peering at a tallish man with ginger hair. He wore the same green ap.r.o.n as the girl behind the counter had worn. Mr. Ginger-hair really did exist, she realized with surprise.

"Miss?" the man asked with concern. "Are you all right?"

"I-Yes," Inez said, suddenly fl.u.s.tered. "I was just looking for the ladies' room." They tended to be called toilets here in England, but even after eight years, Inez couldn't bring herself to say that when looking for a restroom. She preferred the polite euphemism to the literal word.

"Oh, they're right over here." He led her to the right and Inez smiled and thanked him when she spotted the recessed sign reading "Toilets." She went into the ladies' room, finding herself in a small room with a booth in the corner and a sink to her left. With the number of patrons in the place, Inez wasn't surprised to find she had to wait and was just glad there weren't a couple of women already waiting before her.

Moving to the sink, Inez peered into the mirror and scowled at her hair. Knowing there was no use trying to tame the wild curls, she reached into her purse for her lipstick. She'd bitten or eaten off the lipstick she'd put on earlier and that, at least, was something she could repair.

As she ran the color over her lips, Inez found her mind returning to the matter of the hotel suites at Claridge's, but knew it was a waste of time even as she pondered it. She didn't know the people involved well enough to know who the other three people might have been. Obviously it was someone connected to Christian Notte; family members or friends maybe.

Inez had barely had that thought when the hand holding the lipstick stopped moving. What if the other three were Christian's mother and her people? Her family or friends?

The thought had hardly crossed her mind before she gave a small shake of the head and finished with her lipstick. No. If Christian's mother had been in the party then the case would have been over and Marguerite would have returned home.

Inez stilled as another thought struck her. Straightening, she peered blindly into the mirror as she considered that it might not have been his mother, but it could have been someone who could lead them to Christian's mother. Marguerite might have found someone who was around at the time that he was born and who could lead them to the woman who gave him life. In which case, they may have come here, found his mother, and then...Then what?

If Julius was one of the ones who left the party when they left London, they might have felt it was necessary to meet back up with him after finding the woman to ensure they had the right one. In the normal course of events they could have just snapped a picture and sent it to him by cell phone or email to have him confirm or deny the woman's ident.i.ty, but this wasn't a normal case. From the sounds of it, the father didn't want Christian to find his mother. He might make things difficult. They might have to fly back to Italy or wherever he was and see his reaction to the woman to know if they had the right one. If so, they might not even be here in York anymore.

On the other hand, Inez admitted, they may have found the woman and still be here for some reason. Their being in Italy was a slim chance, especially since Bastien had called the day before and was told they were in England. Still, they could have flown home since then and a phone call only took a couple of moments. There was no harm in checking was there?

The door opened beside her, and Inez glanced toward it, hoping it wasn't someone who would try to hop in line before her when the woman in the booth finally came out. She really had to go.

Fortunately, it was a man and he was obviously in the wrong bathroom. Inez offered a wryly sympathetic look as she waited for the tall, fair-haired man to realize his mistake, offer embarra.s.sed apologies, and back out. But he wasn't doing that. He was staring straight at her with grim determination and continuing into the room.

Chapter Thirteen

Having grown up in a house with two women, Thomas knew how long they could take in the bathroom, so he moved to a table holding a stack of magazines and newspapers, searching for something to read while he waited for Inez. He'd just settled on the local newspaper, when he saw her returning. Eyebrows rising at how quick she'd been, he dropped the newspaper and headed back to the table.

Her head was bowed and she was peering down into her cup when he sat down. When she continued to sit like that, he frowned with concern. "Is everything all right?"

Inez glanced up, a questioning smile curving her lips. "Yes, of course. Why?"

Thomas smiled in return, and shook his head. "I just wondered."

She smiled and then took her last bite of m.u.f.fin, and drank down the last of her latte. Thomas followed suit and then raised his eyebrows. "Ready to go?"

Inez nodded, collected her purse and stood. "Where to now?"

Thomas grimaced and admitted, "Well, the only thing I can think to do is keep walking around with an eye out to spotting Aunt Marguerite. York isn't that big a city, at least its center isn't large, and it doesn't appear too busy at night. Maybe we'll get lucky and spot her. In the meantime, we'll try to think of places to look for her. We might check the book stores tomorrow evening. It's too late tonight, but we'll have to check the hours and see if they're open later than five o'clock."

"They might be," Inez said as they walked to the stairs. "This is a high-tourist area, so they might stay open later to cater to tourists."

"Well, if we come across the store, we can check their hours," Thomas said as he followed her down the stairs. "But for tonight, we'll just walk around and try to come up with ways to find her. I'd suggest checking anywhere they might have archives, but those definitely won't be open at this hour. I suspect Tiny would have to do those kind of searches."

"Which makes Marguerite rather de trop," she said wryly.

"Yes," Thomas agreed. "And she wouldn't like that. I'm sure she'd have found some way to go with him, either going during daylight or finding a way to get in at night."

Inez nodded as she stepped off the bottom step. She took two steps forward and then stopped and glanced around.

"What is it?" Thomas asked, stepping off the last step and moving to her side.

"I was just wondering where the ladies' room is," she answered with a grimace.

"You have to go again?" Thomas asked with surprise before he quite realized that if she had, she should know where they were.

"Again? I haven't been since we left the hotel," Inez said on a laugh. "Oh, there it is. I'll be right back."

Thomas stared after her with bewilderment, watching until she disappeared through the door labeled toilets. Turning away then, he moved to the counter and peered absently at the goodies in the gla.s.s display, but his mind was with Inez.

Again? I haven't been since we left the hotel, she'd said, but she'd excused herself to find the ladies' room earlier.

"Women."

Thomas glanced up from the display to find himself peering at Mr. Ginger-hair who had taken such note of Inez earlier.

The fellow grinned and shrugged as he nodded toward the door to the bathrooms. "They're forever in the bathroom, aren't they?" he said wryly and then asked, "Did you want something to go?"

Thomas stared at the man, but rather than answer, he slipped into his mind. It was a quagmire of dissatisfaction with his job, his life and his love life, but Thomas eventually plucked out the memory of Inez coming below earlier and his showing her where the bathrooms were. He also picked up a couple of rather x-rated thoughts the guy had enjoyed at the time about following her in there and-

"I'm ready."

Thomas quickly withdrew his mind and glanced to the side to find Inez there, smiling at him brightly.

"Shall we go?"

Thomas nodded and gestured for her to lead the way, taking the time to cast a scowl at Mr. Ginger-hair before following her. He waited until they were outside and walking again before saying, "Inez?"

"Yes?" She glanced at him quizzically.

He hesitated and then said, "Tell me what happened from the time we entered the coffee shop until we left, please."

"Tell you what happened?" she echoed with surprise.

"Yes. I know it sounds an odd request, but it might be important."

Inez stared at him with bewilderment for a minute and then apparently decided to humor him and shrugged. "Okay...well...we walked in, went up to the counter, you suggested I tell you what I wanted and leave you to order while I went to find a table. There were no free tables on the main floor, so I went upstairs, spotted two, picked one by the windows and sat down. You came up a minute later with our order. We drank, ate, and talked, and then came down to leave. I went to the ladies' room, joined you at the counter, and we left." She raised an eyebrow. "Now, tell me why I just said all that."

Thomas glanced away to hide his troubled expression. He couldn't read her mind to tell if she was lying, but there was no reason to. She had absolutely no recall of the first trip she'd made to find the ladies' room. A trip that should have been successful because he knew the coffee shop guy had pointed it out to her and had seen in his memory that she'd gone through the door marked toilets, but apparently something-someone, he corrected himself grimly, an immortal, had stopped her from going to the bathroom because she'd still had to go on the way out.

Inez had been controlled again and her mind wiped.

"Thomas," she said, grabbing his arm with a laugh. "Why did you want me to tell you that?"

Thomas opened his mouth to answer and then hesitated as he recalled how upset and vulnerable she'd appeared after realizing she'd been controlled in Amsterdam. He didn't want to see her upset again. In fact, at that moment, he wanted to grab her up and rush her back to the townhouse and keep her safe from being controlled again.

Halting, he suddenly peered quickly around, taking note of the few people on the street. No one seemed to be paying them undo attention or following them, but he suspected someone was.

"Thomas?"

He glanced down to her again, noting that she was starting to look worried. Inez wasn't a stupid woman. She would realize something was wrong. Forcing a smile, Thomas slid his arm around her shoulder and urged her to walk again as he lied, "I just like to hear the sound of your voice. You have an interesting accent; Portuguese with an overlay of British. It's quite charming."

Inez laughed and the relief in her voice made him glad he'd lied as she said, "I'm not the one with the accent. You are."

"No. I have no accent at all," he a.s.sured her, glancing-nonchalantly, he hoped-around the street again. Now that he was aware that someone must be following them, his back was creeping as if it could sense eyes on it, though he couldn't really, he just knew they must be there. "You are the one with the accent."

Inez just shook her head and said, "Maybe we both do. Now, we should really talk about Marguerite and try to sort out ways to find her."

Thomas nodded solemnly, but his mind was on why she might have been controlled again. She hadn't been controlled long enough on either occasion for anything untoward to have been done to her. She'd only been gone ten or fifteen minutes the first time and maybe a little more than five in the coffee shop.

Had she seen or heard something someone didn't want her to? Perhaps she'd seen Marguerite, he thought and then suddenly recalled that this had been his first thought when he'd realized she'd been controlled in Amsterdam, but Marguerite hadn't even been the one with the phone in the first place.

Frowning, Thomas recalled that Inez had suggested that perhaps someone hadn't wanted her to realize that they were chasing the mugger with the phone, not Marguerite. Thomas reconsidered the idea now.

"You've gone suddenly silent and grim," Inez murmured, bringing his attention away from his thoughts. "What are you thinking about?"

Thomas hesitated, but finally admitted, "I was thinking about the first time you were controlled in Amsterdam."

Inez stopped walking abruptly. "The first time?"

Thomas cursed himself for the slip of the tongue.

Light suddenly splashed over them and the street was filled with the sound of voices and laughter as a door opened behind them. Thomas glanced around to see they were standing outside a pub. It seemed fortuitous, he suddenly needed a drink and suspected Inez was going to need one too.

"Come on," he said, taking her arm to urge her toward the door, "we'll have a drink and I'll explain everything."

"So you think someone controlled me again," Inez murmured, peering down into the gla.s.s of ale she'd barely sipped at since the waitress had set it before her. The pub was a small, crowded affair with people sitting around tables, or standing around in groups talking. It was the real deal, a true English pub, not one of the ones opened for tourists.

Thomas had just finished telling her his version of their stop at the cafe. It was quite similar to her own except for the part about her getting up in the middle to go find the ladies' room. She believed him, but had no recall of that whatsoever.

Thomas reached out and squeezed her hand comfortingly. "Yes."

She nodded a slow acknowledgment. "Okay. Well, either I saw someone or something I shouldn't have when I went to the ladies' room, or..." Or what? she wondered helplessly.