Page 16 of The Wallflower Ruse

“Discuss what?” Cecil asked.

“His French friend got something from the smugglers, too,” Davis said. Restive shot him a glare, which he blithely ignored. Evidently, he was as taken with Lucinda—as trusting of her—as everyone else.

“As you suspected,” Cecil said to Restive. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t know. I still don’t. But he’s been pensive, even a bit grim, and our contact in France is half French, and—”

“True, but he has been reliable up till now.”

“I know,” Restive said, “but something’s going on. Something different from the usual.”

There was a silence, while they all mulled over this unwelcome development. Confound it, thought Restive. Only a few days till God only knew what crisis, and now Fortin was suspect, and as if that wasn’t enough to deal with, he didn’t know what to think about Lucinda Belair. Usually, he summed women up easily and then ignored them.

Yes, she was clever, too clever—she had always been bright, even as a girl—but he would be an antiquated fool to hold that against her.

She was pretty—very pretty, dash it, and brave and resourceful. Hades, she’d played him for a fool yesterday, as if she’d been in the espionage game for years.

Was that what bothered him?

Or was it that he found her so attractive, so very desirable, which meant that she was subtly, easily playing him in another way entirely?

Or that he was just a conceited oaf. Or both.

He would deal with his own folly later. Regardless, she was a distraction, the last thing he needed when a crisis loomed. But with all the others on her side—annoyingly so—he would have his work cut out to keep her out of his way.