Page 30 of The Shadow Code (Heroes of War #3)

T he tearoom off St James’s Street was quieter than usual and there were several empty tables. The walls were a faded cream, the wooden chairs all slightly mismatched, and the sound of teaspoons against china filled the air with a kind of polite rhythm.

‘Lunch? There’s a place near you. Half past twelve.’

She didn’t ask why. With Lilian, it was often better not to.

Now, seated across from her godmother, Ellie was on her second cup of tea and trying not to fidget.

The waitress had also brought egg-and-cress sandwiches and two scones with a sliver of butter and a spoonful of strawberry jam.

Ellie nibbled at her sandwich, appetite dulled by too little sleep and too much thinking.

‘You’re looking a little drawn,’ Lilian said, stirring her tea slowly. ‘Rough morning?’

Ellie hesitated. ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’

‘That wasn’t what I asked.’

Lilian’s gaze was level, unreadable. She wore her usual smart coat and her gloves were tucked neatly beside her plate, umbrella leaning against the table leg. Her hat was simple but perfectly placed.

‘So, tell me. How is Mr Stratton?’ she said lightly. ‘He’s a terse sort, but sharp. Knows how to read a room.’

Ellie sipped her tea, buying a moment. Her mind drifted.

The quiet steadiness of Jack’s hand in hers at the dance, the way he’d looked at her as if he saw more than she meant to show.

Lilian was right. He was sharp, attuned to everything and everyone.

Steady. Solid. And yet, there’d always been that edge between them. A pull she hadn’t wanted to name.

Why had she pushed him away so firmly before the war?

She knew why. Her parents would never have approved.

Too new, too brash. Not their kind. And then there’d been Sinclair – elegant, charming Sinclair, who’d swept in like a well-written story.

And now he was back. Her stomach twisted.

The man who’d once meant everything, who had broken her without even saying goodbye, and the one who’d quietly been there since. There were different kinds of ghosts.

She inhaled slowly, the warmth of the cup grounding her fingers. ‘He’s not so bad,’ she said at last, aiming for lightness. ‘Once you get past the glowering.’

Lilian gave a knowing look. ‘And do you like working with him?’

Ellie hesitated for a second. ‘Yes. I do.’

‘I remember your parents didn’t think much of him,’ Lilian said, more gently now. ‘Said he wasn’t quite … our sort.’

Ellie bristled. ‘They didn’t know him.’

‘But you do?’ Lilian smiled faintly. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at him now. And the way he looks at you.’

Ellie said nothing.

‘It’s all right, you know,’ Lilian said softly. ‘To change your mind.’

The tea cooled. Outside, the fog clung low to the ground, the grey light seeping in through the lace curtains.

She wanted to tell Lilian all about Sinclair.

He’s returned. He still loves me. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.

It was some undercover assignment. She listened to her own words, but instinct prevented her from confiding in her godmother.

‘I just worry,’ Lilian said, ‘that you’re not saying what you need to.’

Ellie’s jaw tightened. ‘There are things I can’t discuss. Not with you, not with anyone. It’s all so muddled, lines crossed, loyalties unclear. And I keep thinking, what if I’ve stumbled onto secrets I’m not meant to find?’

‘Is that MI5,’ Lilian asked softly, ‘or your own pride talking?’

She didn’t answer.

Lilian leaned forward slightly. ‘Secrets rot the soul, Eleanor. Even the ones we keep for noble reasons.’

Ellie looked down at her teacup, fingers tightening around the delicate handle, her thoughts reaching elsewhere – to files she wasn’t supposed to see, to her father’s name where it shouldn’t have been, to a bad feeling she couldn’t shake.

‘I’m fine,’ she said at last, quieter now. ‘Truly.’

‘You really ought to try and eat a little more. You look like you’ve been running on air and stubbornness.’

Ellie let out a faint laugh. ‘I always run on stubbornness.’

Lilian smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘That I believe.’

When the bill was paid and the tea had grown cold, Lilian rose and touched Ellie’s arm lightly.

‘If you’re certain – or even if it’s just a feeling you can’t shake – follow it.

Carefully. Relentlessly. Because men like Stratton will dismiss it and so will half of Whitehall.

That doesn’t mean you’re wrong. It just means you’re a woman who sees further than they do.

So trust yourself, and don’t let go.’ She nodded. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

Ellie watched her go, the warmth of her presence lingering like the scent of the tea.

Lilian had always been a lodestar, a steady point Ellie could navigate by.

But today, even Lilian’s certainty felt distant.

It was as if they lived in two different Londons now: one above ground, measured and lawful, the other beneath it, coiled in secrets.

And Ellie was slipping deeper into the latter.

She wrapped her hands around the cold teacup, wishing that, just for a moment, she could climb back into the version of herself that had once sat here in uniform, all principle and purpose. Before the lies. Before the shadows.

Her thoughts turned to the voice on the phone.

The warning hadn’t left her. Even now she could feel it threading through her chest like a wire, pulling tight.

Tomorrow, she’d be back in the briefing room.

And if the whispers were true, if Chalmers really was a leak, then everything was about to shift again.

Ellie took one last sip of her tea. She wasn’t walking away.