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“Leave us out ofwhat?” Lily did not seem to share Josie’s excitement or Mary’s anxieties. As always, Lily was calm and serious. Unlike Mary’s other two friends, Lily did not deviate in appearance or demeanor, whether she was at a ball, with her friends, or out on a country ride. “You cannot just write out marching orders and expect us to follow through for months on end. We are not soldiers.”
“I would make a terrible soldier.” Josie grinned, but it was fleeting before she too focused on Evie. “Where have you been? Your uncle said you were in France two months ago, then a week after that, he was cursing your name for an entire afternoon. When Elijah asked, your uncle said he had lost track of you.”
“He said that in front of you?” Mary was aghast. Oliver Stuart was notoriously tight-lipped, even to those who did not know he was England’s spymaster—which was almost everyone.
“No,” Josie admitted. She blinked, the very picture of sincere innocence. “I happened to have lost an earring just outside of Lord Camden’s office door when Elijah was in there with him. I could not help overhearing.” As the eldest and the heir to both Lord Camden’s titles, it was not surprising they’d been discussing such secrets.
They all snorted.
“I was in France,” Evie confirmed, picking up the thread of conversation. “I was on tour, enjoying myself for once when I received a letter from Uncle Oliver, asking me to pick up a package from one of his men. Itshouldhave been completely routine.” Her lips quirked, a strange light kindling in her eyes. “Although not all of it was bad.”
“What do you mean?” Lily leaned in curiously, but Evie shook her head as if coming back to herself.
“Never mind about that. The important thing is we stopped an assassination attempt on the Duke of York last month, thanks to the information I received.”
Mary gasped right along with her friends. The Duke was currently the third in line to the throne. If such an attempt had succeeded, it would have caused chaos among the royal family and Society at large.
“An assassination? And we haven’t heard a thing!” Josie sounded almost outraged, although news coming to the countryside was a bit slow.
Evie shook her head. “No one knows right now, outside of my uncle’s men and you three.” She paused for a moment. “Well, and the Duke of York, of course.”
“Why tell us?” Lily asked. It was a good question. Evie was often close-mouthed about her uncle’s business.
The young woman rubbed her hand across her face before meeting their gazes, her head turning slowly between her three best friends.
“I need your help.” She grimaced. “Right now, we have very little to go on. The information… my… uncle’s man provided was little more than hearsay. If soldiers hadn’t been after him, we likely would have dismissed it entirely.”
“Who is the man?” Mary asked, picking up on the little hesitation in Evie’s voice when she spoke of him. The sharp glance she received in response confirmed her suspicion.
“No one important.” Evie said the words too quickly, piquing her friends’ interest. She sighed. “His name was Anthony Browne, and yes, he was very handsome, and we may have had a... a moment. May I return to the danger to our country now?”
Her question sobered her friends. Mary felt a little prickle of guilt, but truthfully, who could blame her? What could she, Josie, and Lily do? Evie was the master swordsman and sharpshooter, the consummate actress, who could move through all levels of society without comment, and the restless thrill seeker. Still, she could listen to what Evie wanted and would try to do whatever Evie wished of her.
“Do you think it was the French or the Russians?” Lily asked slowly. She rubbed her ink-stained fingers together without appearing to realize she was doing so, as though they were already itching to pick up a quill to start writing.
“It could be either or something worse… treason.” Evie’s expression was grim, and Mary’s chest tightened as her heart began to pound. Surely she could not suspect…
“The Marquess of Hartford… you asked me to watch him because he might be a traitor?” Mary was aghast. To her relief, Evie shook her head.
“No. Well, probably not. His name has come up in several instances but always tied to that secret society of his.” The one Mary had been able to learn next to nothing about. Evie leaned forward, lowering her voice, even though there was no one nearby to listen in. “I need all of you to be alert this Season. I need to know every bit of gossip you can ferret out, no matter how inconsequential, especially if it pertains to this secret society, the Russians, the French, or the Crown. We have no idea where the next threat is coming from.”
A chill went down Mary’s spine.
“Why us?” Josie asked, frowning. The other three looked at her, surprised. “I am more than willing to do my duty to my country, but how can we possibly learn anything your uncle’s men cannot?”
“She has a point,” Lily said and shrugged. “No one wants to talk to a debutante about anything clandestine.”
“They barely want to talk to us at all,” Mary murmured. Well, that was not entirely true. There were some debutanteseveryonewanted to talk to, but they were the exception, not the rule. Mostly, the ladies with the largest contingents of gentlemen around them were either great beauties or had great dowries, their skill at conversation, or lack thereof, having little effect on the proceedings. “There is a great deal we can learn by listening, though.”
“Precisely.” Evie nodded firmly. “Mary managed to hear a bit about Hartford’s secret club.”
“Not very much, mostly that it exists. Everyone knows he is connected, but no one else knows anything about it. Or those that do, do not speak of it. Sometimes, I wonder if it is real or just a figment of gossip.” Mary tapped her finger against her lower lip as she thought aloud.
“Oh, it is real,” Evie said darkly. “And someone in it is connected to the Duke’s assassination attempt.”
Real. If Evie said it so conclusively, Mary had to believe her. A little part of her sighed with regret. If that ridiculous rumor was true, perhaps the others about Hartford were as well. The knowledge should have counteracted the man’s attractiveness, but Mary had remained just as intrigued by him than ever, if not more. She had spent an entire Season watching him from afar as Hartford courted Arabella until a mishap with Mary’s cousin, Thomas, ended in a wedding, then Hartford looked around thetonfor a new possible bride.
Of course, he had not looked Mary’s way. She had not expected him to. She should not have wanted him to—he was a rake, a terrible prospect for a husband, and possibly connected to treason. Admittedly, she found it hard to believe he had anything to do with the assassination attempt, but sometimes, people were not what they seem. If only he were not so very beautiful, charming, and engaging… it had been very hard not to moon over him the same way Josie mooned over Joseph Stuart—longingly and from a calculated physical distance.
