The Last Queen of England Read Free

times, and just for once he wished he’d call him JT.
    “It’s called, Across the Pond ,” he said.   “It focuses on the ancestral ties between America and the UK.   I figured that as so many non-native Americans can trace their roots back to the UK, there should be a market for it.”
    Jean nodded.   “Maybe I can get you to sign a copy for me someday.”
    Tayte felt his cheeks flush and laughed at the idea.
    When Marcus settled the bill ten minutes later, Tayte thought he looked far too pleased with himself, supposing that the blind date was no doubt money well spent to his mind.   The black-suited attendant waiting for them by the door helped Jean into her coat, and through the grey windows Tayte could see that it had started to rain.   He rarely wore a coat, but on this occasion he chided himself for forgetting how damp London could be.   He didn’t realise Marcus had fallen behind until he turned around to ask how long they had before the show.   His first thought was that he’d intentionally dropped back to give him and Jean a moment to themselves - another of his matchmaking ploys - but when his eyes found his friend again he wasn’t so sure.
    A slim, fair-haired man wearing blue jeans and an untucked black shirt was sitting at the bar with a leggy brunette who looked like she hadn’t long left school.   He had to be close to Marcus’s age, Tayte thought, although he gave the impression he was trying to look closer to the girl’s.   He had one hand on her St. Tropez-tanned thigh and the other was on Marcus’s arm.   The man was talking through his smile as though he’d just bumped into an old friend, but Marcus did not return the smile.   Tayte watched his friend jerk his arm free and he was about to go and see if he needed any help when Jean distracted him.
    “How long are you in London?”
    Tayte turned to her.   “Marcus didn’t tell you?”
    “I suppose he thought it would be nice if I found something out for myself.”
    Tayte glanced back at Marcus.   The other man was still smiling.   It all seemed amiable enough apart from the body language and there was something about that smile that made Tayte uneasy.   Marcus looked tense and Tayte wished he could hear what they were saying.   He wanted to step closer but he was suddenly aware that he was ignoring Jean, so he tried to stay with the conversation.
    “Sorry,” he said.   “I fly home tomorrow night, after the convention.   Did Marcus invite you to that, too?”
    Jean nodded.   “I said I’d get back to him.”
    “I know what you mean.   Genealogy conventions aren’t everyone’s idea of a fun day out.”
    “That’s not quite what I meant.”
    It took Tayte a while to realise what she did mean.   “Oh,” he said.   He laughed to himself.   “See how this date goes first, right?”
    “Something like that.”
    He was about to ask her if she’d made a decision, but when he turned and looked into the restaurant again he saw that Marcus was heading towards them.   Tayte thought he looked troubled, but as if to contradict his take on the situation, the fair-haired man at the bar was still smiling.
    “Anything wrong?” Tayte asked.
    Marcus shook his head.   “No, just an old acquaintance I’d rather not have bumped into today.”   He took his coat from the attendant and slipped it on over his sports jacket.   “Come on, let’s get a cab and go see that show.”
      
    Tayte snapped his collar up as soon as his loafers hit the wet pavement outside.   Maiden Lane was a narrow street, lined with four-storey buildings that had a few shops and other eateries at ground level.   He left Jean and Marcus sheltering beneath the restaurant canopy and went to secure the black cab he’d seen towards Covent Garden.   Despite the rain the area was busy with sightseers and shoppers, many of whom were linked in pairs between their umbrellas, eating up the pavement.   Somewhere ahead he could hear a street performer