Miriam looked pleased, probably because being the first official guest would give her a great deal of gossip to pass along to her friends.
“The cab, Lady Adelaide,” Daniel murmured.
Adele smiled at Miriam as Daniel led her toward the roughly built stairs down to the dockyard itself, weaving through the guests and workers, more men whom Adele now recognized as journalists, because they carried notebooks just as Cowden did, and many others crowding onto the observation deck. It was a hodgepodge of workers and classes and refreshing in its novelty.
“I could kiss you,” Adele murmured to Daniel as they walked and nodded at friends and acquaintances. “What on earth are you doing in Glasgow?”
“I got sick of waiting for you to return to London,” Daniel said flatly. “I’m taking time by the forelock, Adele.” His tone was firm.
She smiled up at him. “Do you really have a cab waiting?”
“I do, and there are tea rooms on Argyle Street in Glasgow, but I’m not sure if they’re royal or not. We can talk there and not be overheard.”
She nodded and slid her arm over his, instead of maintaining the polite three fingers upon his coat sleeve. “You seem to have lost your hat again.”
“So I have.”
They stayed silent as they moved across the sprawling dockyard to the public gates. Lined up along the street beside the curb were a mixed collection of public cabs and private conveyances, their horses all with slack hips and heads down.
“That’s the one I came in,” Daniel said, pointing to the last cab on the line. They moved over to it and Daniel opened the door for her and held out his arm to help her help.
Adele picked up her skirts and climbed up into the cab. She heard Daniel speak to the driver—no doubt giving directions, but she didn’t hear what he said for her attention was taken up by the man sitting on the bench with his back to the horses. A high domed forehead with thinning hair combed neatly flat, deep set eyes under a heavy brow, and a florid moustache trimmed neatly. Green eyes, sharp with attention and intelligence, which most people failed to notice after taking in the badly fitting, cheap suit and old-fashioned upright collar he usually wore.
“Melville! Good God!” Adele exclaimed. “What on earth…are you both following me about now?”
Melville’s expression didn’t change. He wore dock worker clothes, which he must have borrowed from a genuine worker, for they were stained, wrinkled and smelly. Dressed like that, he would be just about invisible to most people, which was no doubt his intent. “You are leaving the celebration early, Lady Adelaide.”
Daniel climbed into the cab, paused when he saw Melville, and swore softly.
Adele moved along the seat, giving Daniel room beside her, as the cab rocked into motion and pulled out into the light traffic on the street.
“And you are supposed to be in London, Bannister,” Melville added.
“Yet I am here,” Daniel said flatly. His gaze was unwavering as he stared back at Melville.
Melville didn’t give way beneath Daniel’s gaze the way many people did. Instead he just nodded. “Having you both here suits my needs, anyway. Where are we going?”
“Adele and I,” Daniel said heavily, “were to have afternoon tea. This is the first chance we’ve had to spend time together since Balmoral. You’ve had her running to every society event for months, while I’ve been cooling my heels in clubs playing whist with men who make the game utterly unappealing.”
“It’s all rather pointless,” Adele added, for the feeling that she was wasting her time had been growing steadily for weeks.
Melville nodded. “Tea it is, then.” He settled back in the corner of the bench and crossed his arms, his gaze upon the street beyond the window.
Daniel’s gaze met Adele’s. He grimaced.
Yes, precisely. Yet another moment when they might have been alone ruined by the man for whom they both worked, for the good of England.
THE TEA ROOMS WERE NOT busy, for everyone who was anyone was in Clydeside, attending the launch of the Lusitania. That left the tables around them empty, which suited all three of them.
A large teapot sat on the doily in the middle of the table, next to a vase holding peonies. Beside them was a tiered silver cake stand holding scones and other morsels. Pots of jam and marmalade were arrayed beside them. It was a charming arrangement and the scones looked delicious, but Adele had no appetite.
She would have drained her first cup of tea in one large swallow had it not been quite so hot, though.
Melville ate enormously, chewing his way through two entire scones, both ladened with large dollops of jam and butter.
Daniel crumbled a scone upon his plate, watching Melville with forced patience.
Finally, Melville sat back, wiped his mouth with the napkin and dropped it upon the table. He made a heavy sound of satisfaction and rested his hand upon his stomach. His gaze shifted from Daniel to Adele and back.
Adele put down her teacup and waited.
“Two days ago,” Melville began, “the German Reichstag passed new navy legislation to increase the total tonnage of their fleet.”
Daniel sat back. “Really…” He sounded deeply interested, as if this was a dire announcement.
“Why is that important?” Adele asked him in a low voice.
“Increasing total tonnage is another way of saying they’re making their navy larger.” Daniel grimaced. “The Emperor wants a bigger navy than the King’s.”
Melville nodded. “That’s about it,” he said, his tone heavy. “It might once have been a stupid rivalry among distant cousins, but the bigger the navies grow, the bigger the threat to England.”
“Why?” Adele said sharply. “If the King’s Navy is as large as Germany’s, then isn’t it…aren’t they the same as each other? Wouldn’t the threat be neutralized?”
“You would think so,” Melville said. “But there will be two very large navies floating about the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, the seven seas and for all I know, outer Mongolia, too. Navies are built for
