Page 48 of How the Earl Entices

But through Evelyn Winslow? Kit never would have thought of her. Yet she was a woman who so craved adventure and excitement that she’d eagerly participate in espionage if given a chance, and one to whom the authorities wouldn’t give a second thought. “What did he say?”

“‘Tell Kit to contact the man we once raced against on donkeys in dresses,’” she recited with exacting precision. “‘Tell no one else, not even Mariah. My life depends upon it.’”

He waited a beat for her to continue. When it became clear that she was finished, he pressed, “That’s all?”

She smiled proudly. “Every last word.”

His chest tightened with suspicion. “He signed it?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know it was from Ross?”

She looked at him as if he’d escaped from Bedlam. “How many other people do you have in your life who would be passing secret messages to you?”

Dozens, actually. But the gel had a point. “So Spalding sent you that message, and you didn’t think to take it to the authorities, or at least show it to your father?”

“Of course not!” The suggestion appalled her. “And let them ruin all the fun?”

Oh, what a stroke of genius Ross had in sending his message through Evelyn! A more perfect conspirator Kit couldn’t have imagined.

“So all this means that your brother is still alive? That he hasn’t committed treason?”

“That’s exactly what it means.” His chest soared with the news.

She frowned as they reached the end of the room and turned to circle back along its length. “But there’s one thing I don’t understand.”

“What’s that?” he asked, distracted. Already his mind was spinning with plans for how to meet Ross without being followed or alerting the authorities to Evelyn’s involvement.

“Who wore the dresses—you or the donkeys?”

“The donkeys,” he answered, deadpan. Then he squeezed her hand, interrupting before she could interject, “What did you do with the letter?”

“I memorized it and then burned it, of course.”

“Of course.” He grinned at her, the widest beaming smile of his life. “Miss Winslow, I could kiss you!”

She leaned scandalously closer. “By all means,” she purred, “don’t let me stop you.”

He laughed and shifted back to put more distance between them as they continued to twirl around the dance floor. He realized then why she’d gone through the room, reserving every dance she could. So her waltz with him wouldn’t stand out from any of the others.

Frightenhim?

No. The chit downright terrified the daylights out of him.

“In fact,” she continued, “I think this proves that I would make a good spy, don’t you?”

He didn’t let his expression change. She didn’t know about his work with the Home Office. No one outside the department did, except for Ross. But that didn’t stop the tightening of his gut at her question.

“You’re far too beautiful.” He distracted her with a tight, fast twirl. “In all the novels, the best spies are people who blend into a crowd.” He twirled her again, out of step with the rest of the crush and not giving a damn that they were as long as he could take her mind off spies and Carlisles. “And you, Miss Winslow, definitely do not blend.”

She laughed brightly at the compliment, drawing the scowling attention of the couples surrounding them. Kit didn’t give a damn about them, either.

“Are the rumors true? Do you really want to become a vicar?” Her eyes sparkled, as ifthiswere the big secret of the evening and not Ross’s return from the grave.

They came to a stop as the dance ended. “Don’t tell a soul.” He lowered his mouth to her ear. “It was only an empty threat to irritate my brother.”

She dropped into a deep curtsy, extending her hand to him with all the polished grace of a princess. “Then I hope you can continue to irritate him,” she said in low voice, “for a very long time to come.”