The chap lifted a hand. “Oi! Barclay!”
Apparently, one of the blokes he knew from here. Barclay hurried to his friend’s side. “The curly-haired blonde—Russian. Know where she’s staying?”
Quigley scoffed. “Everyone does, so we can steer clear of ’er. You saw the building, aye? She’ll be in 5F.”
Barclay turned back to Lily with a smile. “Voilà.”
The urgency that had spurred her on since the park settled into peace. She returned the smile and spread it equally between Barclay and his friend. “We thank you, Mr. Quigley. Now, I’m going to say hello. Barclay, you’d better hurry back to Whitehall and tell Hall and Daddy where I am.”
Barclay’s face went grim. “It could be close to an hour before we get back. Thirty minutes at the least.”
Lily kept her face clear. “That’s all right. I can fill the time.”
He didn’t look appeased. “They’re going to have my head.”
“For keeping me safe? Hardly.” She gave him a little nudge. “Go.”
He grumbled something she didn’t catch and lifted a brow at Quigley.
The old gent grinned. “If she’s one of yours, don’t worry. My sis is in that building. We’ll make sure all’s well.”
It was all the reassurance Lily needed. Without waiting for any more arguments from Barclay, she crossed the street.
By the time she stood before the door with a tin 5F on it, she’d had so many second thoughts that she hadn’t bothered counting them. She could turn around, even now. But still that undercurrent of peace flowed through her heart. And so she raised her hand and knocked.
For Zivon.
“Quoi?” The French “what?” sounded irritated and raspy a second before the door was yanked open. The blonde’s eyes went wide.
Lily smiled and forced her tongue to wrap around French. Thank heavens Ivy had taught it to her pupils and so had used it a bit at home, otherwise Lily would probably have forgotten what she’d learned in her own school days. “Did someone need a nurse?”
She’d taken this Nadya by surprise, that was certain. “No.” The door started to shut.
Lily stopped it with a hand and a lifted brow. Letting the smile fall, she said, “I have the photograph you want. Let me in. We can make a trade.”
A war raged through Nadya’s eyes. “Zivon has it.”
“He did. He gave it to me weeks ago, before he knew what it signified.” Moving slowly, she reached down, into her pocket.
The photo was there, with her camera, as always. Not the original, of course—that was safely pinned to her wall at the OB. But when she’d made a copy for Zivon, she’d made a second for herself.
He’d given her his heart when he gave her that photograph. She wasn’t about to go anywhere without it.
When she pulled it out, Nadya snatched for it, but Lily held it back, away from her. Let her see it without touching. “A trade, I said. Now, let me in.”
Her mouth set in a firm line, Nadya backed up a step. “You will regret coming here, English girl.”
“Funny. I was going to say the same thing to you.”
“Nadezhda?” A second voice came from within, hoarse and faint. “Who’s there? What . . . ?”
Evgeni. And he sounded ill. Sliding the photo back into her pocket, Lily pushed Nadya aside and strode into the room. A sweeping glance of the place showed her a tiny kitchenette, a table for two with matching rickety chairs, a small shelf with one book on it, and a narrow bed.
That was where Evgeni was. Pushing himself even now to a sitting position, confusion on his face.
Lily rushed to the bed. “Evgeni. I have been praying for you. The flu?” She perched on the side of the bed and pressed a hand to his forehead.
Cool, praise God.
His gaze went from her to Nadya. “Who is this?”
Lily gave him a smile. They looked nothing alike, these brothers. Not in coloring or the shape of their faces or their builds. But the eyes. The mouth. There she could see it. “Lily Blackwell. I’m going to marry your brother.”
For a long moment, he studied her. Perhaps trying to ascertain whether it was true. Perhaps something else altogether. Then his gaze moved to Nadya. “You knew? About her?”
Nadya crossed her arms over her chest. “I told you, Zhenya. I will fight for our family. Not his.”
“Your mistake, Nadya, is that they’re one and the same.” Lily reached for Evgeni’s hand and checked the pulse in his wrist. “They’re brothers. You can’t ignore that. Can you, Evgeni?”
He said nothing. But his mouth turned up into a bit of a smile. Zivon’s smile.
Nadya stepped closer. “Give me the photograph.”
“I will. And you’ll give me Zivon’s album.”
A beat of silence. Then a terrifying click. “How about this for a bargain? You give me the photo now and I won’t kill you.”
Lily looked over to see a pistol leveled at her head. She should have panicked. Screamed. Dove for cover. But the blanket of peace wouldn’t lift. And so, somehow, she smiled. “You won’t kill me. If you do, you’ll never get out of England. They’ll be looking for you at every port, every station.”
Nadya’s nostrils flared. If she knew anything about Lily, she’d know her father was a captain, that he had connections. Was it a risk she’d take?
All Lily knew was the woman didn’t pull the trigger then and there, snatch the photo, and run. Which meant there was hope. She just had to stall until Barclay returned with help.
Swallowing, she turned back to Evgeni and patted his hand. “Put the gun away, Nadya. We’re going to do this the easy way. The photo for the album. But we’ll make that trade in a bit. First, let’s take care of Evgeni. You’ll need him stronger than this if you mean to leave soon. Open the window to get some fresh air in here. We need to make him some broth. It will fortify him—and you too. You look pale.”
“I told you that you looked pale,” Evgeni croaked.
Nadya scowled. “And I told you I’m fine.” But she glanced at the tiny kitchen area, then at Evgeni’s prone form. She sighed. “You make the broth. And make it fast. I mean to be out of this wretched place by nightfall.”
Lily smiled. Formidable a soldier as Nadya may be, she was still a woman.
A woman clearly concerned about the man she loved.
That would grant Lily all the time she needed.
Zivon checked his pocket watch and grimaced. “I have only thirty minutes to get back to my flat, gentlemen.”
“We’ll have you on your way in just a moment.” Hall scratched one more note onto the paper they’d all been poring over, then handed it to Blackwell. “How about this?”
“I think it will work.” Lily’s father reviewed the plan with a nod. “As long as there are no unforeseen—”
“There you are!” The office door flew open, Barclay Pearce leaping through, chest heaving. Followed by—Father Smirnov? “Whatever you’re planning, shelve it. Lily and I found their flat. She’s there now, with Nadya. We haven’t any time to lose.”
“What?” Blackwell’s roar could have shaken the whole building, had it been made of flimsier material.