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Birdie stared at him as if he’d grown a second head, and Thorne was thinking he had. He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“You want me to do what?” she demanded.

“I need you to pretend to be my betrothed.”

“Why?” She glared at him with her hands on her hips.

She had nice, shapely hips. Birdie was always hiking or riding.

She wasn’t one to sit around idle or to stay indoors.

In a house full of men, Birdie had found her place outside.

She raised bees in a bee aviary and used the honey and comb for an assortment of medicines, treats, and beauty products.

Despite her tan, her skin remained supple, soft, and sweet-smelling.

“Thorne?”

He brought his attention back to the moment at hand. Pulling her deeper into the maze at her family’s London townhouse, satisfied they were alone, he said, “I’m a spy for the crown.”

She stared at him, confused. A smile hovered on her lips, allowing a giggle to escape. “You’re a what?”

“Shh, keep your voice down.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve been undercover keeping track of French sympathizers on English soil since my release from the Army. It has become increasingly more imperative since Napoleon’s escape from Elba.”

Birdie frowned. “You’re serious?”

He took her hands. “He is regaining power, Birdie. We’ll be back at war in a few weeks.

I need to stay on top of this, but my informants keep getting spooked.

I’m unable to even listen in on conversations now, because women are throwing themselves at me, wanting to be my bride.

” He rolled his eyes. “It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of.

Why would anyone want to marry a notorious rake? ”

“A reformed rake,” Birdie corrected. “At least according to the advertisement.”

“Yes, well, if anyone is going to reform me, I’d like it to be you.”

“Why me, Thorne?”

There were so many reasons. Because even in a fake betrothal, she was the only one he wanted. Because he wished it could be true. He met her storm grey eyes and told her the simplest version of the truth, “Because I trust you.”

She nodded and gave a whisper of a sigh. “What do you need me to do?”

He kissed her. It was just a quick peck to her lips, but it was enough to have them both staring at the other in a haze of confusion and mixed emotions.

“Sorry, I’m just so thankful you agreed.

It will not be easy to convince everyone that you’ve suddenly developed a tendre for me.

I will start paying court to you at social functions and if you could keep the other women at bay… ”

She grinned. “I’ll be your champion, my lord.”

He laughed. “I knew you would. You’ve always been fearless and so smart.” He explained his mission.

“You know, I might be in a better position as a wallflower to discover what you’re wanting to know,” she suggested.

“Possibly, if you’re in the right place at the right time, but I’d rather make our own luck. Together we can move around a ball or dinner party, go out on a terrace or wherever one of the known or suspected sympathizers might try to contact another.”

“Fine. I’ll pretend to I’m your intended, but I need a list of people to watch.”

“Birdie!”

“No, I’m serious Thorne. If I overhear something in the lady’s retiring room, I need to know if it’s a code or just ladies talking. I won’t go in this blind.” She hesitated. “Will my father know this is pretend?”

Thorne shook his head. “Are you okay with that?”

She hesitated before nodding.