Hyde Park would have been perfect except that a number of people frequented the park and Nicholas was not really in the mood to socialize. On the outside, he might look like his charming old self, but really, the man was still suffering from the effects of his excessive drinking the night before. Therefore, they chose to spend the afternoon watching the river Thames. Although the place was not to themselves, he believed that they had more privacy than what they would get in Hyde Park.

The ride to Thames was uneventful. The couple sat on opposite seats in the carriage, discussing menial topics and mostly dwelling in the silence of each other’s company. Silence which he thought was more abundant at home, in his room, but Mr. Bennett or perhaps Timothy would be conducting a search in every bedroom under the pretense that he seemed to have lost an important notebook in the house. They had done this routine before. Of course, Claire need not know so it was Nick’s duty to stall even if the noise and the brightness of the day was torture to his sensitive senses.

When the carriage stopped, Nick was the first to step out of the carriage, helping Claire when it was her turn. He might be already walking around, but he was still very careful not to overexert himself just as the doctor advised. 

[i]“It’s the perfect weather for you to finally be walking,”[/i] Claire commented as she was stepping down the carriage. [i]“Oh, Nick did you grab a blanket to sit on? I can’t believe I forgot one, I don’t know where my mind is.”[/i]

“I did,” he nodded, but then gestured for the servant to setup their spot under the shade of an oak tree, where the slope was gentle and the grass was a healthy shade of green. He took the basket from Claire and passed it on to the same person laying down the blanket for them. They waited in silence while their picnic spot was being arranged, and sat only after Nick dismissed his staff.

Having not yet consumed any solid food for the day, Nicholas was hungry. Just by looking at the food that Cook prepared for them made his stomach grumble in protest. He grinned sheepishly and stuffed a quarter of a sandwich in his mouth. It was chicken and the dressing was very deliciously made. He nodded in approval, swallowing slowly, as he watched the peaceful Thames. Good thing his stomach did not reject it. He was already on his fifth slice when Claire spoke.

[i]“Nicholas, may I ask you something?”[/i]

With his mouth full and another quarter of a slice on one hand, he turned to his wife and nodded. [i] “This whole ordeal with Matthew and Lucy, it’s got me thinking. What if he was a spy? I know it’s silly to think about. But- but if he was, he did it for a reason, didn’t he? He must have believed he was doing right. So does that make him a bad person, just because he did what he thought was right and it made certain people angry? Hypothetically speaking [/i]

Nick swallowed his food and placed down the slice he was holding. Was she trying to justify Matthew’s deeds? He couldn’t quite tell what she was thinking by just watching her facial expression. She looked genuinely curious, but the question shouldn’t have formed in her head.

“If he was a spy,” Nicholas answered slowly, keeping his eyes on her, “He was in the wrong.”

It was that simple. He reached for a cup of fruit juice and took a tentative sip. Staring at the crafted design of the porcelain, he continued, “He was in the wrong, because selling information to Russia is treason. Nevertheless, I have no intentions of meddling with the military’s and the queen’s business. I have my own to take care of.” Nick paused then his eyes suddenly looked up to hers and smiled. “And also, I have you to take care of.” He placed the cup down then plucked a grape from the cluster and raised it to the level of her face. “Say ‘ah’ I’m sure you haven’t eaten lunch yet. Don’t think about the officers. We went out here to enjoy the sun and to keep your mind off Matthew and Lucy.” 

 When he thought she was going to take him up on his offer and open her mouth, Nick popped the fruit into his mouth and grinned like a schoolboy at her. “You want some?” he teased while still chewing. “Hmmm… That tastes brilliant. Where did they buy these?” he mused as he lowered himself until his head was on her lap. Looking up at Claire, he gestured to the grapes. “More, please.” 

He was, after all, supposed to be just a businessman. He was to care very little to what the government was up to. He just said what he thought should be said in order for her to be comfortable around him. The success of a good spy lie in his ability to make the people around him feel at ease, enough for them to speak to him freely.