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Their country house seemed quiet with her brothers gone.

Robert was serving with Wellington, and John was in London with the War Department.

The twins were at university and getting into mischief while she remained to care for father and their assets.

Just another birdie in a gilded cage, she thought as she dropped seeds to the parakeets.

“Birdie, can you make heads or tails of this missive from the land manager? I swear, you should be the lord instead of me. Father never prepared me for this role. If Antony had lived…”

She’d heard the refrain before. Her father still suffered grief over the loss of his older brother.

Taking the letter from her father, she gave it a quick perusal as she set the birdseed aside.

“I know Papa, but you might not have settled down and married mama, then where would you be?” She smiled at him to soften the scold.

“Oh, I would have settled down, mayhap not as quickly as I did, but destiny knew your mama and I belonged together.”

She snorted. “Mama said trouble and a disreputable reputation were your destiny.” She linked her arms with his and escorted him to the dining room. “Come, let us break our fast.”

“Bah, I was not as bad as all that.” He waved off her words, picking up the London Daily as he took his place at the table.

Birdie poured tea and added a spoonful of sugar. “Then you weren’t a rake mama had to reform?”

He blushed. “Well, no, I was more of a rascal than a rake.” He laughed. “Ah, but here is a rake ready to reform, and it is none other than your childhood friend.”

Birdie looked up from rereading the letter from the land manager. “What’s that?”

“It looks like Thorne is looking for a wife and he wants a bluestocking. Huh, I would have thought he’d asked for you since the two of you were so close…well, before.”

Yes, before the duke had ended their relationship and Thorne had run off to war.

She took the paper and read the article.

They’d reprinted it from The Ladies Home and Hearth magazine.

“Oh, my.” Her heart cracked. Thorne was looking for a bride, a bluestocking, and it wasn’t her.

She blinked away tears. It wouldn’t do to let her father know she still carried a torch for the rogue.

“Well, it looks like Napoleon is still causing havoc,” he said, retrieving the paper.

Stifling her heartache, she asked, “How can the tyrant do anything from Elba?” She ducked her head and buttered her toast.

“He’s escaped.”

Escaped? And the war office had not contacted her?

Her stomach tightened. First Thorne and now Lord Vernon?

Had she always been expendable? The spy master hadn’t sent her any missives to decode in months.

She thought Napoleon’s detainment was the reason.

Did he no longer need her, or was it simply because she’d been out in the country too long?

“Perhaps we should return to town. The season will start soon.”

“Are you worried about Napoleon or young Thorne?” He asked with a knowing grin.

She sniffed. “I am quite confident Welly will take care of Napoleon. As for Thorne, he is no longer young, and neither am I.” Shoving back her chair, she spun on her heel and began giving orders to the staff to prepare everything that they might leave in the morning.

She spared a moment of prayer for her brother, Robert.

“So soon?” her father asked.

“Do you have some reason we should wait?”

He gave her with a sly smile that caused concern. “No, my dear, I cannot think of a reason we should delay. Continue with your orders. I will see to the coaches.” He finished his breakfast and meandered off to the stables.