Page 18 of The Wallflower Ruse

“Ah,” Lucinda said, understanding now. “That’s why you used to attend reform meetings—to gauge when reformists were in danger of resorting to violence.”

“Yes. Many of the ideas expressed in those gatherings make a lot of sense, and I don’t blame the reformists for losing patience, but think how horrid if England suffered a revolution such as in France—particularly ghastly when we are at war. We cannot afford a loss of confidence in our government, even if it’s made up of stodgy men and is nowhere near as just and progressive as it should be. Change, alas, will have to wait.” She sighed. “Come, let’s have something to eat.”

Restive and Davis had left the house, so only Cecil Hale joined them for a light nuncheon of bread and butter with cold meats and cheese. A relief, decided Lucinda, for she didn’t wish to spend any more time than necessary in Restive’s company.

“Indeed yes, you’ll be paid for the work,” Cecil said, when prompted by his wife. “And you can stay with us as long as you like. It will be a great help to me, and frankly, you won’t be much use if you’re cabined, cribbed, and confined by your mother.” He chuckled. “That’s how Restive put it. He tells me Lady Belair is quite mad, more so than the average matchmaking mama—but I think he was reflecting his own uneasiness. He doesn’t know what to make of you.”

“He needn’t make anything of me,” Lucinda retorted.

“We’re a team of sorts, all with different roles,” Cecil explained, “and we’re in an emergency situation. That message wouldn’t be so cryptic if it weren’t desperately important. God knows what’s set to happen on the eve of the first of May, but our contact in France has been reliable so far. We have to use every available resource, and that includes you.”

“But what possible use am I except for coding and decoding?”

“That remains to be seen. The reformist sorts aren’t likely to suspect you of spying, especially as you’re Dorothea’s friend. If we introduce you to some of them, they may try to convert you to their cause.”

“That sounds dangerous, Cecil!” Dorothea said. “Restive was right, even if for the wrong reason.”

“We won’t put her in any dangerous situations.” He exchanged an unreadable glance with his wife, then turned to Lucinda. “You’ll have to keep your ears open, of course, but I see you more as a distraction.”

“From what?”

“From our own people who seek to infiltrate.”

Lucinda tried to think of herself as a distraction. It would certainly differ from her usual role of being as unnoticeable as possible. It might be rather fun not to play the grumpy wallflower just once.

“Davis is adept with disguises,” Cecil was saying. “Restive doesn’t take naturally to spying, but he’s good at observing others whilst remaining indifferent.”

“Having a string of mistresses doesn’t sound like indifference,” Lucinda said, “although he did say string was a gross exaggeration.”

Dorothea laughed. “He told you that? You must have had an interesting conversation on the way to town.”

Lucinda made a face. “He was suspicious of me, and I felt the same about him, so perhaps we felt free to be both frank and rude to each other. I also told him he was without honor. He took exception to that.”

“Algy has his own notion of honor,” Dorothea said, “for which I respect him.”

“He’s a good sort,” Cecil said. With difficulty, Lucinda refrained from rolling her eyes.

Dorothea went to take a nap. “I’m always sleepy nowadays,” she said. “Find yourself a novel from my bookshelves and cuddle up for a read. My maid will have at least one dress ready for dinnertime.”

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.”