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A pale light glowed in Birdie’s window. She was waiting for him.

If he went to her room, he would not leave without making love to her, but he could not leave her up there worrying either.

He climbed the tree nearest to her balcony.

The branches were strong and sturdy, but they stopped a few feet shy of his destination.

Standing on the branch below her balcony, he grabbed the wrought-iron railings and pulled himself up.

He ignored the ripping of his fine shirt.

He should have changed from his formal attire.

Thankfully, he’d left his coat and hat in the carriage.

He threw his leg over the railing as the French door swung open.

Beatrice stood silhouetted in the moonlight.

“Thorne, you are well?” she breathed, pulling him into her chambers. “I have much to tell you.”

“And I you,” he whispered, his lips finding hers.

They forgot for a moment the peril they and their country faced.

Taking solace in each other’s arms as they kissed and caressed.

Their touches became more frantic, more needy as they tugged at clothing and fell onto the bed tangled in each other.

When they had sated their intense hunger, they cuddled together, cocooned in Birdie’s bed.

“What did you learn?” she asked.

“My source feels that something will happen here in London to thwart our campaign against Napoleon.”

Birdie agreed. “If what I overheard is related, then I think it will be at Lady Jillian’s masked ball. Lord Liverpool is to be the guest of honor.”

He nodded. “Liverpool’s name was one my source mentioned. He and Mr. Peel are a threat to their goal.”

“What is their goal?”

“To keep Britain out of the war or at the very least cripple them.”

“From what I overheard tonight, many people feel the war in America used too many of our resources and we don’t have enough men and arms to go against Napoleon again.”

“I wish I could say they were wrong, but one major catastrophe could completely derail our abilities to win this war.”

“Like taking out our prime minister and home secretary?”

Thorne rubbed the gooseflesh on her bare arms. “Because Banks is both Prime Minister and Chancellor of the Exchequer, his loss could create national financial chaos; removing Peel at the same time would lead to anarchy.”

“Then we need to make sure it doesn’t happen.”

“I will go in the morning to speak to Lord Vernon.”

“You will go in the morning to speak to the vicar,” her father said from the doorway.

Birdie squeaked and pulled the covers up to hide her nakedness. “Papa…”

“Not now, Beatrice.” He glared at Thorne. “You! Get dressed and meet me in my library.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now!”

Thorne scrambled from the bed and hurried into his clothes.

Birdie donned a nightgown and robe. “I’m coming with you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll be okay, Bird.”

“Thorne, this is my life, too.”

“I know. Trust me?”

She clenched her back teeth before relenting with a nod.

Thorne hurried to face his executioner or father-in-law. He was unsure which it would be.

“Is the betrothal just a fake, or do you plan to marry my daughter?” Lord Hartley demanded as soon as he entered the library.

“I love Beatrice and want to marry her…”

“But…”

“I’m not free to do so.”

“Are you already married?”

“What? No, sir. I’m in service of the crown.”

“I’m aware of that.” He sighed. “I told the old coot this wouldn’t work. Had we known Napoleon was going to escape, we’d have done something different.”

Thorne frowned. “What did you and Lord Vernon do?”

“The advertisement.” He shook his head. “My daughter would not entertain the idea of other suitors, and you were hellbent on martyring yourself. We thought we could fix things. We really fixed things, didn’t we?”

Thorne grinned. “And the two of us fell into your scheme without a second thought.”

The older man sighed. “Yes, but now I may have truly screwed things up.”

“If Birdie agrees, I’ll arrange a special license, and we’ll marry quietly.”

“What about your mission?”

“I’m sure you know she is already assisting me.”

He nodded. “Can you keep her safe?”

“I can keep myself safe, Papa. You taught me well.” Birdie entered the room as regal as a queen in her night rail and robe.

Thorne went to her side. “It appears your father and uncle were playing Cupid.”

She spared her father a glance and blushed.

“Yes, it worked a little better than we planned.”

Thorne took her hands in his. “Will you do me the honor of being my bride?”

Beatrice looked him in the eye and nodded. “Are you sure?”

He smiled. “I’ve always wanted to marry you.”

She licked her lips and glanced at her father. “The duke won’t approve.”

“The duke has no say in this. I love you.”

“Go get that special license. I’ll marry you as soon as you return.”

Thorne kissed her and grinned. “I’ll bring the party.”

Birdie and Thorne stood before the minister in her family’s garden with her father, uncle, her oldest brother, and Thorne’s brother, Caleb.

“I never thought this moment would happen,” she admitted.

“I’m sorry it took such drastic measures for us to get here.”

“I’m just glad we finally did.” She touched his face. “How will this affect the mission?”

“Whatever happens, we’ll do it together.” He leaned in and kissed her.