"They are with us," Marguerite assured him, taking pity on the man.

Nodding, he moved swiftly to the side to make way for them, and then nervously backed away.

Marguerite shook her head as she watched him go, and then turned an affectionate smile on the twins. She'd got to know them well in California when they were all staying at her nephew's home and had been glad to see them when they'd met with Christian at the Dorchester and found they'd accompanied him. The pair looked frightful, but really they were sweethearts. They were still quite young, barely over a hundred years old, and still ate...a lot. The only person she knew who came close to being able to put away as much as these two were Tiny and her own son Lucern.

"Where are the others?" Julius asked.

"There's a pub on the other side and they're waiting for us there," Tommaso answered, eyeing Julius's sandwiches.

"Tiny warned us that The Foyer was fancy dress," Dante added as Julius noted the hungry looks both men were giving his food and lifted the plate to offer it to them. Both twins took a small sandwich each as Dante added, "We just came to report in."

Julius nodded. As he set the plate back on the table, he asked, "You managed to lose your tail?"

Tommaso nodded as Dante stuck his sandwich in his mouth to free his hands. He pulled a small notepad from his pocket and tore off a page. He then held it out and took the sandwich out of his mouth with his other hand, saying, "This is their license plate number. I think it was a rental, but you might be able to find out who rented it."

Nodding, Julius accepted the slip of paper and slid it into his suit pocket, making Marguerite frown. She and Tiny were the private detectives. Holding out her hand, she said, "I'll look into that if you give it to me."

Julius shook his head. "I have it. You already have a job."

Marguerite narrowed her eyes. He didn't sound the least angry as he mentioned the case to find his son's mother. Considering how long he'd kept the secret and the fact that he'd come here to try to convince them to head home, he was being rather pleasant. It just made her suspicious.

"These are good," Tommaso commented.

Marguerite glanced his way in time to see him pop the last of his sandwich into his mouth. Her gaze then moved back to the plate, noting that there was only one left. She forced herself to look away from the temptation.

"Christian said to give you two these," Dante said and handed a card key to Marguerite and another to Julius, listing off the room numbers as he did.

"We already delivered the luggage to the rooms," Tommaso added, accepting the last sandwich when Julius held out the plate.

Marguerite watched enviously as he consumed half of it in one bite, and then couldn't stand it any longer and stood up.

"I would like to go to my room."

"Of course," Julius said, getting smoothly to his feet. "I shall see you up."

"No, no," Marguerite waved him off, eager to get to her room now. "I know the room number. I can find it. You go ahead and join the boys in the pub. I'm sure Dante and Tommaso have more to report."

She turned, then, to walk away, but paused when he said, "We're sharing a suite."

Turning back, she raised an eyebrow.

"I arranged for two suites next to each other," he explained. "I thought the boys could take the two bedrooms of one suite, and Marcus and I will share one bedroom in the second suite, while you take the other."

Julius looked as if he expected her to be upset by this news, but she wasn't. The fact was she had her own room, and she was the only one with her own room. And she really wanted to get up there and order something to eat.

"Fine," she said quickly and glanced to Tommaso and Dante. "I'd like an hour to unpack and rest a bit, but could you ask Tiny and Christian to meet me after that so we can discuss matters?"

She waited for both men to nod, and then left the table to find her room.

Five.

Marguerite let herself into the room using the key Julius had given her, and then paused inside the door to peer around. She'd entered the suite through the door leading into the actual bedroom she would be using, but there were two open doors leading off of it. One led into the en suite bathroom, the other led into the sitting room between the bedroom she occupied and the one Marcus and Julius were to share. It was nice, but all art deco and she'd actually preferred the decor in the Dorchester.

Closing the door between her room and the sitting room, she picked up the book listing the hotel's available facilities and leafed through until she found the room service menu. She scanned it briefly, then moved to the phone and quickly punched the button for room service. Her gaze slid around the room as she waited, and Marguerite wasn't at all surprised to find her luggage there. Dante and Tommaso had seen to it as efficiently as expected, no doubt leaving it at the desk when they'd arrived, to be delivered to all of their rooms while they went to the restaurant.

Marguerite straightened as her call was answered and placed her order, requesting that it come directly to her door, not the sitting room door, then hung up and stood to walk to the window. Tugging the curtains open, she peered out on the city at night, noting that while her room had a balcony, they weren't on the top floor. She suspected Julius had arranged it that way to increase safety, bypassing the penthouses on the top floor for superior suites on the fourth floor, halfway up the hotel, overlooking Brooks Mews. The man was obviously used to handling matters and was good with details...like her son Bastien.

The thought made her turn and move to the phone again. She had to call him and have the blood forwarded to her new hotel. She also wanted to check on her daughter. Lissianna was in the last weeks of her first pregnancy. She could go into labor at any time and Marguerite was almost as excited and nervous for her daughter as Lissianna no doubt was herself.

Before leaving for England, Marguerite had made each of her sons, nieces, and nephews promise to contact her the moment her daughter went into labor. If that happened before she finished this case, Marguerite would drop everything and fly home at once. Christian had waited five hundred years to find his mother and surely wouldn't mind a delay of a week or so if necessary. She hoped. It was a shame if he did mind because nothing was going to keep her from her daughter's side in her time of need.

The phone had barely begun to ring when Marguerite noticed the digital clock on the bedside table and saw the time. It wasn't even nine o'clock at night yet here in England, which meant it wasn't even four o'clock in the afternoon back home. Bastien would still be in bed, she realized, and quickly hung up, hoping that the half ring hadn't roused him. She'd just have to wait another couple of hours and then try again, Marguerite thought with a little sigh, but then wondered if she couldn't call the UK office of Argeneau Enterprises herself to arrange for the blood to be brought here. Bastien had given her a contact number for the UK offices just in case something like this arose.

The number was in her address book in her purse. She just had to- Marguerite's thoughts died abruptly when a knock sounded at the door. Standing, she crossed to the door and pulled it open, a smile curving her lips at the sight of the attendant with the food trolley standing outside her door.

There were three shiny silver covers on her trolley. One hid a bowl of pea and mint soup, another covered a plate holding salad and a steak cooked rare, the third protected an English trifle. Admittedly, it was more than a light snack, but Marguerite hadn't been able to make up her mind about what she wanted. Besides, she didn't plan to eat it all, she assured herself. Just a little of this, a little of that...

Half an hour later Marguerite had pretty much laid waste to the food and was just finishing off the luscious trifle when someone knocked at her door. Stiffening, she glanced guiltily at the table of food, then set down her trifle and moved warily to answer the door. She relaxed a little when she saw it was Tiny and stepped back, pulling the door wide for him to enter.

"Hi." Tiny grinned as he stepped into the room. "Christian should be here soon, we-" He paused abruptly, eyes widening incredulously as he spotted the food trolley across the room. Shock on his face, he said with confusion, "You're eating. You don't eat."

Marguerite sighed and urged him out of the way so she could close the door. The whole hotel didn't need to hear this. Sheesh!

"Sit down," she ordered as she moved back to the table.

"Marguerite. You don't eat. The whole time I've been with you, first in California and then the three weeks here, you do not eat. What is going on?" He paused before her, his eyes suddenly widening. "You've met your lifemate!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Marguerite snapped and gave him a push to make him sit down when he continued to loom over her. She scowled at him briefly for even making such an indecent suggestion. Met her lifemate? Never! She'd been married once and while Jean Claude hadn't been a true lifemate, he'd certainly been an excellent teacher and Marguerite had learned her lesson well. She would never willingly marry again. Even if she met a proper lifemate, she was sure she wouldn't ever allow a man to have power over her again.

"Well, then why are you eating?" he asked, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"I ran out of blood before we left Berwick-upon-Tweed yesterday," she reminded him grimly.

Tiny frowned. "You said you'd called Bastien to arrange to have some sent to the hotel?"

"We left before it arrived," she murmured and then shrugged at his concerned expression. "I will be fine. I was going to call Bastien to arrange to have it sent on, but it's still daylight back home and I didn't want to disturb him if he was still sleeping. Then I was going to call the London office of Argeneau Enterprises myself, but room service arrived and I got distracted."

"Call now," he urged.

Nodding, Marguerite stood and moved to the phone, then realized she needed her address book and turned to glance around the room.

"What are you looking for?" Tiny asked.

"My address book, I put the contact number Bastien gave me in it. It's in my-" Marguerite paused as she recalled that her purse had been stolen. Her gaze met Tiny's with alarm. "My address book was in my purse. So was my cell phone with all the children's numbers programmed in it."

Tiny frowned. "Don't you know their numbers by heart?"

"Yes...No...Damn," she breathed with frustration. "I know Bastien and Etienne's numbers, but Lissianna's just moved to a new house because of the baby and I haven't got her's memorized yet. I know Lucern's home phone number, but I've never bothered to learn his mobile number and he's off traveling with Kate."

"Well, don't worry. Bastien can give you the numbers when you call him," Tiny said soothingly.

"Yes, of course, you're right," Marguerite said glancing at the clock. It was nearly ten. Five o'clock in the afternoon. Still too early. "I'll try to call around midnight," she decided. "And I'll ask if he'd mind canceling my credit cards too and arranging for new ones to be sent out to me."

"Hmm." Tiny nodded. "Makes more sense than trying to do it yourself from here. Probably faster in the end too. Bastien is a whiz with these things."

Marguerite smiled, recalling that the Morrisey Detective Agency had been doing work for Bastien for years. Tiny's partner, Jackie Morrisey, was her nephew's lifemate, and it had been her father who had founded the detective agency they both worked for. Argeneau Enterprises had been one of her father's first customers. Jackie ran the show now with Tiny as her right-hand man and continued to do jobs for Bastien.

"That'll be Christian," Tiny said, getting to his feet when another knock sounded at the door.

He let the other man in and led him back to the table and chairs where Marguerite sat.

The younger immortal greeted her with a smile and then eyed the food trolley and sent a grin Tiny's way. "So this is why you left us all early. It wasn't to come up and unpack at all, you wanted to try room service." He gave a laugh. "I can't believe you're still eating. You're as bad as Dante and Tommaso."

Tiny glanced toward Marguerite, but when she sent him a pleading look, he kept her secret and merely rolled the trolley out of the way to the side of the room.

"I've been racking my brain trying to think of anything I might know that would help the two of you with the search, but haven't come up with anything specific. At least, no actual clues," Christian said as he pulled the chair from the makeup counter to the table. "However, as I mentioned earlier, Father and I had a talk. The attack on you upset him...enough that he's unbent a bit about this business."

"Has he told you who your mother is?" Tiny asked with interest.

"He hasn't unbent that far," Christian said with a wry smile.

"Then what?" Marguerite asked curiously.

Christian hesitated, and then said, "He told me a little more about my mother...she tried to kill me when I was born."

"Jesus Christ," Tiny breathed.

Marguerite was silent, but purely out of horror. She had four children herself and could not imagine doing anything so heinous as trying to kill one of them at birth. Dear God, children were so small and defenseless, so sweet and beautiful.... How could anyone kill a child? Why would they even want to? What possible offense could a child be guilty of to deserve to have its head hacked off in the first moments of its life?

"I suppose he told you that hoping to end your desire to find her?" Tiny said grimly.

"It was actually Marcus who said it. Of course, those two are thick as thieves, so it may be by Father's design, but..." He shrugged.

"So your father has kept the secret of who your mother was all these years because he wanted to protect you from finding out that she tried to kill you?" Marguerite asked quietly, the man going up several notches in her opinion.

Christian nodded.

"What will he do now that he knows you still want to find her?" Tiny asked.

"Nothing," Christian assured him. "At least, nothing to try to stop or interfere anymore. I think he's come to realize that he just has to let me do this."

Marguerite reached out and covered one of his hands with hers, squeezing sympathetically as she saw the welter of emotion in his eyes. She couldn't imagine any mother not wanting him for a son. He was handsome, strong, intelligent, and quite charming when he wasn't growling and grim. Christian had a tendency toward being more dower. She'd noticed that in California, but-having met his father-she now understood where the tendency came from. Julius Notte was as cold and grumbly as her brother-in-law Lucian Argeneau. She supposed it was a common characteristic among the older immortals. So much time had passed and they had witnessed so much, a lot of it unpleasant. The unpleasant could eventually seem to outweigh the good, especially without a true lifemate to help weigh down the good side of life.

"Are you sure you still want to pursue this?" Marguerite asked quietly as she realized that there may simply be no chance for a happy ending here. If the mother had wanted to be rid of him so badly she'd wished him dead, she wasn't likely to welcome him with open arms. And, even if she'd had a change of heart and did open her arms to him, could Christian really forgive her abandonment and murderous intent?

"I don't need to have a relationship with my mother," Christian said. "I won't force myself on someone who doesn't want me, but I need to know. Just knowing who she is and where I get some of my traits that aren't my father's would be enough."

Marguerite squeezed his hand and nodded in understanding. "So we will continue the search."

"And you're sure your father won't continue to try to stop us and convince us to go home?" Tiny asked warily.

"Yes, I'm sure," Christian said with certainty. "In fact, he's decided to help in a way. He intends to stay with us. He wants to be on hand to ensure none of us is harmed and to be there for moral support should we find her."

"I'm surprised," Marguerite admitted.

Christian shrugged. "The violence of the attack on you surprised him. It was an all-out murder attempt rather than just an act of violence to warn us off. I don't think he expected such a violent reaction after so many years. He's decided that since you are the target, he'd best stay close to you."

"He thinks it was your mother again?" Tiny asked, trying to understand.

"One of her people, I think," Christian said.

"But he definitely thinks it was an attempt to put an end to the investigation?" Tiny asked.

"Yes," Christian admitted and then glanced to Marguerite and added, "which makes me wonder."

"What?" she asked curiously.

"Well, I've hired other detectives before and nothing like this has happened. Of course, Father sent them packing pretty quick, but..." He tilted his head. "Why you? Why not Tiny?"

Marguerite's eyes widened at the question. Why indeed, she wondered.

"It made me wonder if perhaps you might have known my mother, or might at least have a better chance of finding her."

Tiny shook his head at once. "I considered that at the start, Christian, but Marguerite's marriage-"

When he paused and glanced apologetically her way for nearly spilling a confidence, she shook her head at him, and then took a moment to phrase her words carefully before admitting, "I fear I had little social life throughout most of my marriage. I visited occasionally with family members; Lucian, Martine, Victor, and so on, but, other than that, I knew few of our kind except through the gossip Martine or the others shared."

"So Martine and the others did know more immortals?" Christian asked.

"Yes." Marguerite glanced to Tiny with surprise when he cursed.

"I should have thought of it," he muttered apologetically to Christian, and then explained to Marguerite, "This may be why you were the target. You may not know Christian's mother, but Martine or one of the other members of your family might."

Her eyes widened with realization. That hadn't occurred to her either, but...

"You could be right," she said, a slow smile spreading her lips. "In fact, you probably are. Martine knows everyone. Literally. She's a member of the council over here. She's a member of the council in North America too. She is our best bet."

Marguerite gave a delighted laugh at this first bit of hope they'd had for solving this case, and then her eyes widened with realization. "This means I can see her and the girls while here after all, and without having to play hooky from work. I was very sorry to miss them when we were in York."

Tiny frowned at her words. "You could have taken the time to visit them, Marguerite. I wouldn't have protested."

"Oh, they weren't in town at the time. Martine had taken the girls to Spain for a vacation before school started up again. The girls are both in university now," she added and then shook her head and sighed. "It seems like just yesterday that they were a pair of giggling teens at Lissianna's birthday. Time passes so quickly."