FOURTEEN
Pointe-Lace took a call and a rare smile crossed his face, which was noticed by the other members peering over the top of their newspapers. Those sensitive to Archie’s moods and looks did not read this as a happy grin. It looked like trouble to them, and the heads ducked behind their papers to avoid being buttonholed.
‘What? What have you done?’ The Duchess was taking a call from Keef. She played her part well. There was always a chance her phone was being tapped, and she was not talking about the police or MI5. She knew her husband’s Eton friend, Buttonhole, had long tentacles, and her former relationship with Lord Teapot would only stand her in good stead for so long. The problem with Buttonhole, she thought, was he never directly ordered his people but left a lot to interpret
