She froze, slowly turning her head to stare at him. “A clean handkerchief? Are you actually making a joke, Hopkins?”

He carefully folded her unused cloth napkin, its white linen folds as spotless as the gloves he still insisted on wearing, before he looked up and met her gaze. “I never joke. If an employer of mine is planning to steal one of the most famous gems in history from the Tower of London itself—which is, mind you, absolutely burglar-proof—then by queen and country she will have a clean handkerchief.”

Fiona stared at the spots of color flaming on his cheekbones and realized she’d been a fool. She’d spent all of her time worrying about the logistics of the job and no time at all concerned with the people who cared about her. She dropped her mask and the card next to the chocolate on the table and walked over to him.

“I’m not stealing anything tonight. This is just an exploratory expedition, you daft old thing. Now, give me a hug.”

She thought for a moment that he was actually going to refuse, but finally he sighed and embraced her, patting her back like he’d done when she was a child restless with the burdens of position and, later, tragedy.

He quickly released her and handed her the mask, which she tucked into her belt, and then the card.

“Do you really want to leave your calling card before you take the Siren? They’ll throw everything they have at the Tower to prevent you coming back, after you made Scotland Yard and Interpol look like fools the last time.”

She shrugged, glancing down at the silver gilt card with the tiny figure of a scarlet ninja embossed in its exact center. “It’s only sporting, isn’t it? Besides, they’ll think I’m taking the entire sword. Perhaps that will mean different security measures.”