Page 15 of Every Rogue Has His Charm

“Be ready to leave at moonrise,” Maxim agreed.

“Merci.” Leclerc’s shoulders slumped with the word, as if gratitude had made him weak. “Will we travel straight to London, sir?”

While mentally plotting out the journey, Maxim’s thoughts skidded slightly off the direct path.

Toward Brighton, as it happened.

He’d made it his business to know where his wife was and what she was doing, so he knew Caro had taken up residence there. Just as she’d taken up residence in his thoughts, despite his determination to put ample time and distance between them.

Perhaps distance wasn’t the answer. Perhaps seeing her, once more, would renew his resolve. Yes, his first thought should be the secure delivery of vital military intelligence. But Brighton hardly lay out of his way. A half a day’s delay, at most.

He considered both his duty and his answer before he gave a sharp nod. “Almost.”

Chapter 5

Fanny Drummond could not remember ever having been more annoyed. Or amused. Annoyed because she was amused. She did not want to find Lieutenant Hopkins even the slightest bit attractive.

She’d been watching General Scott’s matchmaking schemes unfold for long enough to know what was what, though the men themselves seemed to be oblivious to them. She knew half the men in the Underground fancied themselves smitten with her, despite the stern demeanor she’d adopted and the widow’s weeds she’d worn well past the point of necessity. She’d hoped the somber clothes and the somber expression would cause them to take her seriously. Instead, they’d turned her into a housekeeper—“the matron at a home for wayward boys,” she’d only half joked.

This visit to Brighton—this assignment—was her one chance to prove she could be something more.

“Stand up straight.” She spoke sharply to Lieutenant Hopkins—Fitz—the better to cover her own nervousness.

Even after he pushed away from the wall against which he’d been leaning and unfolded his arms, his posture was still loose limbed and rangy. “Better?” he asked, smiling.

“Footmen don’t smile.”

Not that she had a great deal of experience with footmen. She came of respectable stock, but not the sort of family with a bevy of menservants at its beck and call. But at least she knew they were meant to appear impassive—an expression that did not seem to be within Lieutenant Hopkins’s repertoire.

Fanny, on the other hand, had devoted herself to preparing for her role here: she’d put off her widow’s weeds in favor of softer, lighter fashions, so that her being out and about did not raise too many eyebrows; she had purchased and read two guidebooks on Brighton so she would be familiar with the town and all it offered; and she’d spent a few days after she had arrived learning what she could of Lady Chesleigh from the locals before presenting herself at the door with Mrs. Scott’s letter of introduction.

This was her third visit to the house in Royal Crescent, the first being properly brief for new acquaintances, but the second prolonged by bad weather. And today, today they were to make a visit together to Donaldson’s circulating library, and on the marchioness’s suggestion. Fanny had connived to have the trip coincide with Lady Chesleigh’s footman’s half day, to provide an excuse for Lieutenant Hopkins to accompany them in the guise of Fanny’s manservant…who was still smiling.

“I did suggest passing me off as your cousin,” he reminded her.

Worse and worse. General Scott had said as much himself, but she had not wanted anything that smacked of intimacy between them. “Hush now,” she retorted in a whisper, “before I demote you to boot boy.”

He was young. Five years younger than she, at least. But those broad shoulders and intelligent gray eyes did not belong to a boy.

“Distant cousin?” he offered, with an expression of mock contrition. At her scowl, his smile deepened to a grin. “At least I didn’t say betrothed.”

Her cheeks heated. She knew where he’d come up with such a notion: recently, another agent, Captain Addison, had had to pretend that the target of his investigation was his wife. Even more shocking, the lady in question had turned out to be Lieutenant Hopkins’s sister. Fanny had overheard the other men in the Underground speculating in whispered but ribald tones about the degree of commitment to his part Addison’s assignment must have entailed. And those speculations could not all have been incorrect, for the captain and Miss Hopkins were now wed.

Fortunately, Lady Chesleigh’s appearance on the stairs prevented Fanny from having to make any reply.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Drummond,” she said, not sparing Lieutenant Hopkins a glance. “What a lovely day for an outing.”

“It is indeed,” Fanny agreed. Though it was past the first week of October, the sun was still sending out its summer warmth, here pleasantly cooled by the wind blowing across the water. The fresh breeze tangled Fanny’s muslin skirts about her legs and teased at Lady Chesleigh’s diaphanous veil as they set out, Lieutenant Hopkins following at a discreet distance.

“And how do you find German Place?” Lady Chesleigh asked.

“Oh, very well,” Fanny said. She’d chosen the location with care: in a respectable part of town, but befitting a widow of less than extravagant means. “Though the parlor is small,” she added, to discourage any thought Lady Chesleigh might have of calling on her. The rooms had been ready-furnished, and Fanny made do with the services of a cookmaid who did not live in.

The freedoms of the arrangement suited Fanny just fine. And despite her reservations about Lieutenant Hopkins’s ability to act his part with conviction, he’d hit it off with some of the other servants belonging to the neighborhood and been able to provide Fanny with a good deal of useful information about Lady Chesleigh’s household.

“The houses here were all built on the presumption that no one would spend much time inside them,” Lady Chesleigh assured her.

Given the variety of other places one might congregate in Brighton—the theater, the assembly rooms, the churches, the shops, the beach itself—the presumption was not entirely unreasonable. But Fanny knew that Lady Chesleigh had a reputation for keeping to herself, in spite of frequent invitations. She considered this outing to the circulating library, so early in their acquaintance, a triumph.