"Governor and Mrs. Shaw," the butler announced. He was a K600, built for etiquette and elegance. Miss Maren called him number thirty-one. Quinn and Lexa called him Preston. Preston liked that, which was how Quinn was perfectly placed to slip out behind Miss Maren when she went to greet them.
The governor was a large man with a belly that made his shirt stretch tight. His wife was tall and slender and dressed like a faded model in a long dress. The nursery rhyme "Jack Sprat" ran through Quinn's mind. He gave his head a shake to keep from laughing. Especially since two security guards-human-wearing dark suits came in behind them.
"Governor, Mrs. Shaw. Welcome to my home," Miss Maren said, ushering them toward the stairs and right into Quinn's path. She stopped short, but covered her surprise by saying, "This is my, um, my nephew, Quinn. Darling?" The edge to her voice was barely perceptible. The Shaws would never hear it, but she knew he could. "Why aren't you in the play room?"
Showtime. Plastering a curious smile on his face, he said, "But?Aunt Maren, I've never met a real governor before." He turned wide eyes on Mrs. Shaw. She looked like she wanted to put him in her pocket and feed him tea biscuits. "How do you do, ma'am?"
Miss Maren's expression was as brittle as frost on grass-until Mrs. Shaw said, "Oh, aren't you adorable. Well, this is my husband, the governor of Triarch City."
Quinn shifted his expression to trustworthy and forthright. "Pleasure to meet you, sir. Or is it 'Your Honor'?"
"In public it is, but you can call me sir here." He reached out to give Quinn a firm, if condescending, handshake. "You keeping up with your studies, young man? That's important, you know."
Quinn held in the eye roll. He was more than keeping up-he was studying university-level mathematics for gears' sakes. "I try my best, sir."
"Is Quinn joining us for dinner?" Mrs. Shaw asked.
Miss Maren held Quinn's gaze. He blinked once, slowly. After a long beat of silence, she smiled. "If you don't mind children at the dinner table, I'm sure he'd be delighted. Now, my butler can show you to your rooms upstairs. We can meet in the library in half an hour for drinks if that's convenient."
The Shaws agreed and were led away by Preston. The guards followed, and one shot a frown over his shoulder at Quinn. He smiled at him and waved. The guard's frown melted into a quirky smile. That's right, there's nothing suspicious about a nephew you've never heard of. Just keep on walking.
As soon as they were out of sight, Miss Maren marched him to the small study near the front door, the place she took meetings that she wanted over quickly.
"What the hell are you doing?" she growled. "And how were you able to lie without twitching?"
"You told them I was your nephew," he said, thinking fast. She couldn't know he'd finally broken his programming after months of work. "For now, that's my reality. It's not lying when I'm playing a part-it's acting."
"This wasn't in the plans."
"You told us to find out their secrets." He squared his shoulders. "People often say things around children, not expecting them to notice. Besides, if I keep them entertained, Lexa will have more time to go through their things."
Miss Maren looked conflicted. He could tell she really wanted to find out everything she could, but the thought of Lexa succeeding wasn't in the plans. "All right. I'll give you some leeway. Fail me, and I'll give Piers free rein. Am I clear?"
Despite the fact that he felt like he'd swallowed a bucket of ice water, Quinn nodded. "Perfectly. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find something to wear to dinner."
Miss Maren groaned as soon as his back was turned, and a little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Failure wasn't an option-they'd get results-but that didn't mean he'd go easy on her tonight. Oh, no.
He'd call her Aunt Maren every chance he got, just to rub it in.