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'd 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 hers 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."
"More quickly for some than others," Tiny said dryly and then added, "I guess if we wish to speak to this Martine, it means a return trip to York."
"Yes." Marguerite smiled at the very idea. "Perhaps this time you'll get more of a chance to look around."
Tiny had been enthralled by the city with its roman walls, medieval buildings, and cobbled streets and snickleways, but hadn't let it distract him the last time they had been in the city. This time she thought he should take the time to tour around and see the city. After all, she didn't need him along to talk to Martine. She could manage that herself.
Julius glanced up from the cards in his hand at the sound of the door opening. He and the others had been waiting for well over an hour in Christian's room while he went to talk to Marguerite and Tiny and put their plan into play. It was Dante who had suggested a game of cards to pass the time. Julius suspected the younger man had known he'd be distracted and therefore an easy target. They were playing poker for money, and Dante and Tommaso were taking turns raking in his sterling. At this rate he'd have to find an ATM and withdraw more British currency, or he'd have only Euros and debit and credit cards to work with.
"So?" he asked, setting his cards down as Christian reentered the room. "What happened? How did it go?"
"It went well, I think," Christian said as the door closed behind him. "They both seemed to accept what I said without suspicion. And Marguerite definitely doesn't seem to think you're as much of an ass now as she did before. She believes you've been protecting me and intend to continue to do so."
"Of course I was protecting you," Julius growled. "Did you think I put up with your constant harassment as you tried to wheedle the information out of me for my own good?"
"I do not wheedle," he said in a growl.
"Hmm," Julius said dubiously.
When Christian merely scowled at him, Julius said, "So what are the plans now? Do they have any idea what they intend to do next?"
Christian nodded. "We discussed our next move. Tiny and Marguerite think it would be beneficial to talk to people who may have been around at the time of my birth. So, they're planning to talk to her husband's sister."
"Martine," Julius said with a sigh.
"How did you know?" Christian asked, eyebrows rising.
"She is the only sister. Everyone knows that. The Argeneaus had all boys and one daughter, like my parents had all girls but me," he said absently, his mind on Martine and what information Marguerite might gain from her.
"Hmm," Christian said, but then shrugged and added, "we're heading to York tomorrow night. But in the meantime, since there's nothing to do on the investigation here, we decided we should have a night out, visit the clubs maybe, go dancing."
"Go out?" Julius glanced up sharply. "Are you mad? Someone is trying to kill Marguerite. It isn't safe for her to go out. No. We are staying here."