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“It’s an interesting offer,” Cal said. Miss Murray had finished her writing and was watching him as intently as Baron. “How much will you pay me?”
Miss Murray gasped in what sounded like outrage—probably it was outrage—but Baron merely smiled. “I wondered when we would get to the heart of the matter.” He pulled open his desk drawer and lifted out a slip of paper. Then, taking his quill, he dipped it in ink and wrote on the paper, folded it, and slid it across the desk.
“But, my lord!” Miss Murray looked from the paper to Baron and back again. “Surely you can’t think to pay him. It’s an honor to serve as a Royal Saboteur.”
Baron patted her hand in a fatherly manner. “It is, yes. But honor does not motivate everyone.”
“Honor doesn’t put food in your belly,” Cal said, pulling the slip of paper closer.
Miss Murray looked away in disgust as he flipped the paper open and closed it again. It was more money than he’d ever had, and if Baron was offering that much, whatever he wanted from Cal was more than simple and small.
“Will that put food in your belly, Mr. Kelly?” Baron asked.
“It will.”
“Then you accept?”
Miss Murray was writing again, careful not to meet his eyes now.
“I accept.” Accepting the mission and completing it were two different things. He’d find out more before he boarded a ship for Ireland. He could always walk away, although with that sort of money on the table, it would not be easy.
“Then you’ll stay the month and finish your training?”
“I will.” That was easier to agree to. He might not like Mr. Shot, but at least he knew what to expect from him and the rest of those at the camp. He’d been treated worse and rarely better.
“Good,” Baron said. Sensing he was dismissed, Cal rose. Miss Murray remained seated, probably planning her indignant objection to Baron once Cal was out of earshot. He started for the door and almost made it when Baron cleared his throat. “Just one more thing, Mr. Kelly.”
Of course. There was always one more thing. Cal turned back, a pleasant smile on his face.
“I’d like you to take Miss Murray to Ireland with you.”
Cal might be able to control his own reaction, but Miss Murray did not possess that skill. She dropped her pad and stared, open-mouthed. “My lord? What did you say?” she all but screeched.
Baron gave her a placid smile. “I’d like you to go to Ireland with Mr. Kelly.”
“Why?” she sputtered. Cal had the same question.
“A man alone is more likely to be viewed as a spy. A married man is less suspicious.”
“Do you mean—my lord—are you saying—” She could not even manage to force the words past her lips.
“We’re to pretend to be married then?” Cal said for her.
“Exactly.”
“But, my lord, I am not an agent. Why not send Miss Galloway or Miss Vaughn?”
“They’re not Irish. Miss Vaughn might be able to pass, but I have another mission in mind for her. Your part does not require extensive training. What I need from you is a bit of accent work. Three weeks seems long enough for you to master an Irish accent.”
“An Irish accent!”
Cal crossed his arms. “Don’t sound so affronted, lass. I might take offense.”
She spared him barely a flick of her eyes. “My lord, I really think you should choose someone else.”
“Do you doubt my judgment?” Baron asked.
Now she sighed, probably having realized the corner she’d painted herself into. “No.”
