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Lucinda couldn’t concentrate on a novel whilst so many questions—and strange thoughts—ran through her mind. How strange, for example, to think that Lord Restive, the heartless libertine who let silly girls ruin themselves in their attempts to entrap him, had any interest at all in reform.

Maybe he wasn’t interested in that as much as in preventing harm to England—or even in protecting the status quo. For a wealthy peer, that made sense.

She’d found it difficult to imagine him a traitor; she was relieved to find that he was not. He’d been kind to her yesterday, driving her to town when he needn’t have done. Both Dorothea and Cecil respected him, which said something.

But none of this made him a truly good man.

He was definitely an attractive one, at least when he wished to be. He came for dinner, dressed in tan breeches, a blue coat that showed his powerful shoulders to perfection, and an immaculately-tied cravat.

Perhaps he intended to leave for an evening party, where he could flirt with fast widows and evade matchmaking mamas. Good heavens, if he didn’t want them falling in love with him, he shouldn’t dress so ridiculously well!

She made a point of ignoring him and enjoying her dinner. Dorothea’s cook had made them an excellent spinach soup, followed by young carrots and a steak pie. It was a simple meal, nothing elaborate, but utterly delicious.

“Where are you headed after dinner?” Cecil asked. “You didn’t dress up for us. Which foolish maiden do you plan to confuse this evening?” He winked at Lucinda. “He does it on purpose, you know.”

“I am aware,” Lucinda said. “He tried it on me.”

“To no avail, alas.” Restive eyed Lucinda almost ruefully. “In fact, of the two of us, I believe I’m the more confused.”

Drat, how dare he make her blush? He wasn’t the least bit confused. It was all a game. “Perhaps we should avoid senseless confusion and stick to important matters.”

“That depends on what one considers important.” He sighed, turning to Cecil. “I have enlisted Lady Alice’s aid as an excuse to visit Mrs. Haraldson tonight.”

“Lady Alice Turlow is Restive’s aunt,” Dorothea explained. “She’s a patron of various worthy causes and is always eager for new and progressive ideas. Restive is known to escort her from time to time, so his attendance at a gathering of bluestockings will not seem so very odd.”

Bluestockings! What fun that must be. Lucinda’s mother had strictly forbidden any association with those odd women—their intellectual pursuits being dangerous, she believed, to the delicate female mind. Mrs. Haraldson, in particular, was to be avoided at all costs.

“Mrs. Haraldson is the ‘jolly wench’ of the message you decoded,” Cecil said, “which suggests that our best chance to work out what’s going on is by attending her salon.”

“Heavens,” Lucinda said, “what sort of people does she invite?”

“Mostly earnest women dedicated to every kind of reform,” Restive said. “Some of them are quite learned, which helps to relieve the tedium.” He cocked a brow. “One of your gowns, Dot? It couldn’t be more perfect—it’s the exact shade of Miss Belair’s eyes.”

Lucinda rolled said eyes. “Must you flirt? It’s so foolish .”

“I merely spoke the truth,” Restive said.

Cecil glanced at Dorothea, who nodded slightly. He turned to Lucinda. “Would you like to go with Restive and Lady Alice?”

Oh, how she wished she could. She had met Lady Alice once or twice and quite liked her...but she didn’t want to go anywhere with Restive. He made her uncomfortable, which she didn’t care for one bit.

How could she despise him as a libertine, yet respect him as a government agent? She simply couldn’t reconcile the boy she’d liked so much years ago with the unsavory man he’d become.

She opened her mouth to refuse.

“What an excellent notion,” Dorothea said. “You know you want to, Lucy. It will be fun, and you’ll be a great help. A distraction, as Cecil mentioned earlier.”

“There won’t be any dancing,” Restive said, “so you needn’t fret about unutterable boredom.”

Lucinda giggled, and choked on her wine.

When she could speak again, she said, “I was so annoyed with you for asking me to dance.” She turned to the others.

“This was years ago, when I first came out. I feared that because of Restive’s influence, other men would wish to dance with me, and therefore Mother would consider them as possible suitors, when all I wanted was to be ignored. ”

“It makes sense now,” Restive admitted, “but I was equally annoyed, believe me.”

She giggled again. “I apologize, if I hurt your pride.” A flicker of something she couldn’t identify crossed his face. “Afterwards, I realized that you meant well, but I didn’t think you would understand if I explained myself.”

“I still don’t understand how you expected to find the, ah, right man if you avoided all of them,” he said sardonically.

“She wanted to take her time,” Dorothea interposed. “Young men are expected to be on the town for years before marrying, but women are rushed into it. Matchmaking mothers can be the very devil to deal with, for the daughters as well as the eligible men.”

“Thank you, Dot,” Lucinda said. “What would be my role at Mrs. Haraldson’s salon? I’m not sure I know how to be a distraction.”

“Just smile and be yourself,” Dorothea said.

“Rant a bit about the rights of women, and they’ll welcome you with open arms,” Restive added.

“He means speak fervently and intelligently about the subject,” Dorothea said.

“You needn’t even acknowledge my existence,” Restive said. “No one will imagine that Stallion Restive wants to seduce a woman with brains.”

“How horrid you are,” she said.

He smirked, and she wanted to slap him. “Meanwhile, you will keep your ears open in the hope of gleaning some information,” he said. “It’s a well-known fact that women can’t keep secrets.”

Perhaps, thought Lucinda, the best way to stop his nonsense was to ignore it.

“Even if they can keep their cackling mouths shut, they can’t conceal their suppressed excitement,” Restive said.

Lucinda realized she was clenching her fists. So much for ignoring him.

“For heaven’s sake, Algy,” Dorothea said, “or at least for England’s sake, stop it. How can you expect Lucy to help if you bait her constantly? Even if one knows you’re talking nonsense, it’s distracting.”

“Sorry,” Restive said. “Bad habit. No, seriously, I am sorry. I do know better.” Again, that rueful expression flitted across his features. “What I meant was that if any of the women know of a secret uprising or planned attack of some sort, it is likely to show somehow.”

“Or so we hope,” Cecil said. “There will probably be some fellows there too, poets and whatnot, or less savory sorts, seeking to take advantage.”

“That sounds like any society gathering,” Lucinda said, “without the matchmaking mamas, I suppose.”

“Ladies can be quite predatory even without their mamas,” Restive drawled. “That’s why we need you, love. My presence tends to extinguish the fire of intelligence and ignite that of lust.”

Lucinda had control of herself now and chose to ignore the improper term of endearment. “In that case, why don’t you stay home and send me with Lady Alice? I daresay we’ll do much better without you.”

“You’d be surprised what secrets are revealed under the influence of lust,” he said.

“Not only horrid, but vulgar and disgusting as well,” she retorted. Although, she thought fleetingly, not at all in the same way as Mr. Wharton.

“Alas, yes,” he sighed. “I despair of myself, but I’m obliged to live up to my unfortunate nickname."

Lucinda huffed. “Perhaps if you refrained from living up to it, people would stop using it, and then women would stop thinking it. I suppose you blow hot and cold on them as a tactic. Poor things, they’ll reveal anything if it makes you love them.”

“It’s one of my few skills.”

Lucinda turned to Dorothea. “Must I work with him? It’s incredibly wearisome.”

“Not if you don’t wish to, darling. It’s up to you.”

It occurred to Lucinda, just before she opened her mouth to refuse, that perhaps Restive didn’t really want her to go with him to Mrs. Haraldson’s.

That he’d been pushed into it by Cecil, and that her comment about his hurt pride had made it worse.

That his increasingly annoying behavior was a deliberate attempt to make her stay away.

How dare he! Revenge had never really appealed to her before, but now she saw why it could be considered sweet.

She would do exactly as she pleased, and if he suffered for it, good.

“In the interest of attending a meeting of bluestockings—which I have always longed to do—I’ll put up with Lord Restive just this once. ”

~ * ~

R estive was being an ass, and he knew it. Why, oh why, was he showing his worst side to Lucy Belair?

There were three possible reasons.

One: That she would be a nuisance. He needed to find out what was about to happen on Beltane Eve. He would do far better without her. This reason might be valid.

Two: He preferred not to risk having her fall in love with him.

It would upset her and infuriate the Hales.

Not only that, it would be disrespectful of such an intelligent woman, and also unkind.

(Although he was already being damned odious, which she didn’t deserve.) This reason also might be valid.

Three: He didn’t even want to think about that reason.

He set himself to being pleasant, polite, and neutral. “Tell me, Miss Belair, where did you learn to read Anglo-Saxon?”

“From a book in my father’s library,” she said. “An grammar of Old English by Elizabeth Elstob, who wrote it well over a century ago. My father had a copy. It’s one of the few I didn’t send to you after he died. I hid what I kept under a floorboard in my room.”