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“I don’t know if I have any fight left,” said Lavinia.

A knock split the silence, and she startled, convinced it was Andrew, until the person knocked again. The sound was coming from the front door, not the back, as had been his habit.

“A late customer?” asked Anika with an arched brow.

Lavinia shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll go tell them we’re closed.”

“I’ll come with you. I should’ve returned home long ago,” said Anika, hauling herself to her feet.

They trooped down the stairs together and into the front room. A woman was at the door, judging by the size of the shadow in the glass. When the woman turned her head, the shadow of long feathers bobbed.

“Gillie?” Lavinia rushed to the door and unlocked it. “Gillie, what’s wrong?”

The diminutive redhead bustled in, her breath condensing in the cold that the open door was letting in. “Nothing’s wrong. I have something for you.”

Gillie’s eyes darted over to Anika.

“Gillie, this is Mrs. Pawar, my dearest friend,” she said. “Anika, Miss Gibson.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Gillie. Then she reached into her reticule and pulled out a large envelope. “This is for you.”

From the crinkle of the paper, Lavinia knew exactly what was inside. The money Andrew had promised her. She should’ve known that he would make good on his promise even if she hadn’t completed the mission. He knew how much her brother mattered to her, and he understood the severity of Caleb’s debts. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to take it. It would be too final. The end of the operation and the conclusion of Andrew’s time in Edinburgh.

“I don’t want it,” she said.

“Take it,” said Gillie, thrusting the envelope forward. When Lavinia didn’t move, Gillie laid the envelope down on the counter. “I can’t stay and argue. I need to change for the ball.”

“You’re going?” Lavinia asked.

Gillie’s eyes slid over to Anika.

“You can trust her,” said Lavinia.

Gillie let out a long breath. “We’re positive that if Wark means to strike it will be tonight. We still don’t know when but at least we know where, and we’ll do whatever we can to stop it.”

Anika frowned. “Strike?”

“The Prince of Wales,” said Gillie.

“I’ll explain later,” said Lavinia before turning back to Gillie.

“I need to dress as well.” When Gillie raised her brows, she said, “I’m going. I don’t care what he says.”

“I’m not going to stop you.”

“Good. Now, do you have anything appropriate to wear?”

Gillie shifted from foot to foot. “I have a gown from a few seasons ago.” Lavinia fixed her with a look. “Many seasons ago.”

“You’ll stand out more in an out-of-date gown than you would in vermilion, and this is one of the few times it’ll be safer for you to blend in. Let me dress you,” said Lavinia.

Gillie flinched. “I won’t be forced into some pastel or white monstrosity that makes me look like an overstuffed bonbon or a country milkmaid.”

“Gillie Gibson, I should hope you’d have more faith in me than that,” said Lavinia.

The young lady muttered something that sounded almost contrite.

“You can try something of mine, and I promise you that you won’t look a thing like a milkmaid,” said Lavinia.