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“Oh, but I couldn't. I am an upright, moral man. I could never stray from my marriage vows.”
She puckered up. “I am sure your wife weel forgive you just this once.”
“Caroline?” He shook his head. “Never. She's the devil's own temper. She quite terrifies me.”
“You shouldn't speak of her in such terms.”
“You're quite sympathetic for a spy.”
“I am unique,” she said with a shrug.
He sucked his lips in an attempt not to laugh. “Aren't you Spanish?”
She raised one arm in a salute. “Viva la Queen Isabella!”
“I see. Then why are you speaking with a French accent?”
Her face fell, and she said in a normal voice, “Was I really?”
“Yes, but it was an excellent French accent,” he lied.
“I've never met a Spaniard before.”
“And I've never met one who sounds quite like you.”
She swatted him on the shoulder. “Actually, I've never met a Frenchman, either.”
“No!”
“Don't tease. I am just trying to be entertaining.”
“And succeeding handily.” He took her hand and rubbed his thumb across her palm. “Caroline, I want you to know that you make me very happy.”
Her eyes grew suspiciously moist. “Why does this sound like a prelude to bad news?”
“We do have some serious matters to discuss.”
“This concerns tomorrow's mission to capture Oliver, doesn't it?”
He nodded. “I won't lie to you and say it won't be dangerous.”
“I know,” she said in a small voice.
“We had to change our plans somewhat when Prewitt discovered our marriage.”
“What do you mean?”
“Moreton—he's the head of the War Office—was going to send us a dozen men as backup. Now he can't.”
“Why?”
“We don't want Prewitt to grow suspicious. He'll be watching me. If twelve government officials descend upon Seacrest Manor he'll know that something is afoot.”
“Why can't they just be clandestine about it?” Her voice rose in volume. “Isn't that what you're supposed to do in the War Office? Sneak about under the cover of the night?”
“Don't worry, darling. We're still getting a couple of men to support us.”
“Four people are not enough! You have no idea how many men are working for Oliver.”
