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“Does he, now?” Briefly, Restive’s annoyance evaporated.

“I’ll wager that’s what they’re holding over his head!

Davis found nothing else. He’s relatively poor, has no wife and children, is not in debt, and leads a tediously proper life.

” He paused. “At least something useful resulted from your foolhardy behavior.”

How kind of you to admit it , she thought, but again didn’t say.

“Thank you, Miss Belair,” Cecil said with a smile. “I’ll set someone to keep watch on Mrs. Pearce.”

“That’s a good idea,” Lucinda replied—to Cecil, not to Restive. “He did seem overly worried about her, although at the time it didn’t occur to me why.”

“Because you were merrily putting yourself in worse danger,” Restive said.

So much for appreciating what she had done.

“Essentially, exchanging your life for hers. Pearce may or may not have a conscience, but given a choice, he’ll put his mother’s safety ahead of yours.

In fact, his awareness of your plan to disappear makes his decision that much easier.

” He scowled. “Whether you vanish of your own volition or because his cohorts get rid of you, it’s no longer his problem. ”

“How horrible,” she said, as the implication sank in—not of her danger, but of the ghastly choice facing Mr. Pearce.

“But I don’t know why you’re so upset. You’ve already forbidden me to go to the masquerade, so I shan’t be in any danger.

Not only that, judging by Mr. Davis’s expression, he’s looking forward to taking my place. ”

“T hat’s not why I’m so amused,” Davis said to Restive as they walked the short distance to his house. “It’s watching you tying yourself in knots over that chit.”

Restive opened his mouth to deny it, but what was the point? “Go to the devil, Davis.”

“I expect I shall, but look at it logically. She’s perfect for you, and think of the advantages. Once you’re a staid married man, you won’t have to fend off any more matchmaking mamas. You may even have the doubtful pleasure of becoming a civil human being.”

“She wouldn’t marry me even if I went down on bended knee—which I haven’t the slightest intention of doing. She dislikes me.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“King and Country’s,” Restive snarled, unlocking his front door. “And mine too, I admit it. I extended the role willingly, and it has proven doubly useful.” He tossed down his hat and gloves. “But in any event, she’s waiting for the right man.”

“So? All you have to do is prove to her that you are that man,” Davis said.

“Says the expert in all matters romantic,” Restive said.

“Having often played a woman, I understand the female point of view,” Davis said coyly, fluttering his eyelashes.

“One day, you will fall desperately in love, and you’ll see how little you understand,” Restive retorted.

“Desperate, are we, dear cousin? Then you’d better snatch her up before she has time to think.”

Restive rolled his eyes. “I haven’t reached that level of insanity yet.” He hurried up the steps to his front door and opened it, almost running down the footman. He tossed his hat and gloves on the nearby table and headed for his library.

Davis followed. “Then why not court her like an ordinary chap?” At least he’d lowered his voice a little.

Restive motioned the annoying lad ahead of him and closed the library door. “Because she’ll see it as an attempt to cozen her. To lure her under my so-called spell and then walk away laughing.”

“R estive’s not usually so irritable,” Dorothea said after he left. “He knows you’ll be here with us, perfectly safe. I wonder if perhaps playing the rake has become too much for him. Upset him, for some reason.”

Cecil snorted.

“ Playing the rake?” Lucinda demanded.

“Well, yes. He’s had his share of mistresses, but since Wellough—” She glanced at Cecil. “I’m probably being indiscreet.”

“She’ll find out sooner or later,” he said. “Lord Wellough was Restive’s cousin.”

“An elderly one, who dropped out of society and died a few years ago.” Lucinda looked from one to the other. “He was a horrid, ah, unpleasant old man.”

“A lecher,” Dorothea agreed, putting into words what Lucinda didn’t feel comfortable saying aloud with Cecil there. Strange how the company in which one found oneself made all the difference to one’s notions of propriety.

“And a traitor as well, unfortunately,” Cecil said. “Restive prides himself on his ability to read people, and was chagrined that he’d never even suspected Wellough of dealing with the French.”

“Why would he? One doesn’t usually suspect one’s family members of treason. How ghastly for Restive.” And how far the truth differed from her original suspicion—that Restive had perhaps turned traitor to pay Wellough’s debts.

“That’s when he volunteered to work with Cecil,” Dorothea said, “as a way to make up for what he saw as his failing. After that unfortunate incident with Miss Bury—which was quite dreadful for the poor girl, but really, she and her mother should have known better. Anyway, after that, he adopted a persona of wicked lechery. It makes the matchmaking mamas think twice—but not their foolish daughters, alas.”

Lucinda cast her eyes heavenward. “You should have seen them at Mrs. Haraldson’s.

” She hoped she wasn’t blushing. Naturally, she wasn’t about to mention that she’d had to resist thinking about him in bed the previous night—thanks, she was sure, to Alfreda’s absurd comments about foot-kissing.

Lucinda had never pondered such an activity before, but it seemed one could be irritated by a man and still find him physically attractive.

And if he’s not really a heartless rake… She cut off that train of thought immediately.

“His reputation makes it easier for him to frequent the sort of place that Cecil wishes him to.” Dorothea wrinkled her nose. “Like Lady Tollister’s.”

“Maybe he just wants good company,” Cecil said. “Ask him to dine with us.”

T hat evening, Restive proved to be in a much better mood—or at least, a politer one. He actually bowed to Lucinda in greeting, unlike his usual brief nod, if that.

“How’s the encoding going?” he asked, as they congregated in the drawing room.

“Well enough, apart from being boring,” Lucinda said. “It’s a simple substitution cipher, although the actual messages are probably in code.”

“Probably?” Dorothea said. “I thought you were putting the messages in code. What is the cipher, then?”

“In this case, it’s just a substitution of one letter for another. Very easy to decipher, but the resulting message is quite different from what the sender actually intends.”

Restive grinned. “Such as, Meet me at the treehouse at dawn , meaning, There’s a cockfight at the Red Oak at dusk . Or… never mind.”

“Never mind what?”

“My next example. I was trying to be gentlemanly—too late, as usual.”

More likely, he was once again hoping to make her blush. Rake or not, he was an accomplished tease. “I suppose it was to do with the lightskirt at the Dragon Inn—quite a pleasant girl, as I recall. I hope Matthew compensated her well for her services.”

“As well as he could afford,” Restive said mildly. “She married a farmer and now has several children.”

“Good for her,” Lucinda said, meaning it, wishing it were as easy for gentlewomen to amuse themselves and still remain marriageable.

Pointedly, she turned to Dorothea. “Your father’s codes are a little more complicated than those my brother and Restive devised as lads, but the recipient has to know the actual meaning, or be able to easily work it out. ”

“Unlike the ones Davis receives from his contact in France,” Cecil said.

“But surely Sir Frederick’s messages are just as important,” Lucinda said, “if not more so.”

“Perhaps, but I think it’s the contact’s fear of being caught that makes him so careful,” Cecil said. “Or his mixed allegiance.”

“Or his lamentable sense of humor,” added Restive.

“Who is he?” Lucinda asked.

“A scholarly sort whose father was French and his mother English,” Cecil said.

“He doesn’t favor either side, but will do what he can to prevent chaos in England—or so Davis explains it.

The fellow has contacts—friends, relations, colleagues—who want just the opposite.

His messages have proven useful so far.”

“But…isn’t there a danger he will be found out if we scotch their plans?”

“Yes, but that’s one of the risks of espionage. We can’t protect everyone,” Restive said.

“However, in the hope that he will continue to be of use, we try to be particularly careful,” Cecil said. “To prevent whatever they’re planning without revealing that we were informed ahead of time.”

Oh. “That’s why you were upset about my conversation with Mr. Pearce,” she said in a small voice.

“You weren’t to know,” Cecil said.

“You might have told her,” Dorothea said.

“You’re right, we might have,” Restive said. “But more importantly, Lucy, I feared for your safety.”

H e called me by my nickname, just like when we were children , Lucinda said to herself in bed that night, wondering what it meant.

Probably nothing . He’d reverted to formality a few days ago, so perhaps he’d forgotten to maintain that distance.

Or was trying to lull her into relaxing with him.

Or was just concerned for her—and nowhere near the rake he’d seemed to be.

She gave up on trying to analyze Restive and went to sleep, and woke the next morning determined not to think about him. Nor to worry about him going deliberately into the location of a dangerous plot that very evening.

And to wonder, if they identified the plotters, how they would prevent them, without the scandal of arrest and trial, from involving themselves in further plots. Short of killing them…

She shuddered. Visions of so-called accidents filled her mind. She imagined poor Mr. Pearce dead before his time, his mother overwhelmed with grief.