Page 30 of The Wallflower Ruse

“No,” he said, “you must not.”

“In the service of the Crown, I must do whatever it takes,” she said. Was he smirking again? It was too dark in the carriage to tell. “Up to a point.”

“Precisely,” he said, as the carriage drew to a halt before Dorothea’s door. “It is my duty to make sure you never approach that very point, with him or any other gentleman who happens to be there—and the best way to accomplish that is for you to stay away.”

“Nonsense,” Lady Alice and Lucinda said in unison. Before he had a chance to respond, Lucinda bade them good night and hurried into the house.

~ * ~

Damn it all, thought Restive. His tongue didn’t usually run away with him. Something about Lucy Belair put him on edge.

“How astonishing,” Lady Alice said as the carriage moved forward again. “You broke one of your cardinal rules.”

“I did?” he asked, feigning innocence. Curse it, what had got into him? He tossed his hat onto the seat and ran his hands through his hair.

“You actually told a girl that she’s pretty,” she said. “It’s one of your rules never to do so. You explained that to me one evening some time ago, when you were blue-devilled and a little foxed.”

“How uncouth of me. Belatedly, I beg your pardon.”

“You begged my pardon then, too. As I recall, you had been tricked into compromising a young lady, Miss Bury, and had broken all the rules by refusing to marry her.”

“Of course I refused. I hadn’t even touched her. The whole point of so-called compromising is that the girl might be with child—which she wasn’t—but if she had been, it was nothing to do with me.”

“I don’t approve of such tricks,” Lady Alice said, “but life was extremely unpleasant for Miss Bury for quite some time—”

“Served her right. It would have been far more unpleasant for her if she’d been leg-shackled to me.”

“—and I believe you felt rather badly about it all the same. Luckily, I was able to help her, and she is happily married now.”

“Since then, I have assumed the persona of a cynical debaucher—without debauching anyone, let me assure you—yet ladies still pursue me, and why? I’m nothing special.” Restive shrugged. “Cecil Hale says it’s useful even if I didn’t plan it that way. No one imagines a heartless libertine to also be a government agent.”

“I wonder how Miss Belair feels about you?”

Like I’m a brother to her, he thought irritably. “She was right about beauty being a curse. I can’t help being what is considered handsome. I do my best to counter it with wickedness, but that seems to enhance the attractiveness. How idiotic can young women be?”

Lady Alice laughed. “The element of danger can be fascinating to a lady. Imagine if they knew you were involved in catching spies!” She paused. “I understand your unwillingness to have her come with me to Lady Tollister’s, but what if her presence is key?”

“And what if it puts her in danger?” He growled. “Hades, she did well. Brilliantly, in fact. She had everyone eating out of her hand.”

“It wasn’t all an act,” Lady Alice said. “I’m sure she enjoyed the freedom to say whatever she pleased.”

Yes, and it was refreshing—even delightful—to hear the thoughts of a young lady unhindered by propriety. She was so...genuine. “Can we prevent her from doing the same at Lady Tollister’s? I doubt it.” He ran his hands through his hair again. “But we have to follow the scent where it leads, and unfortunately, Miss Belair is the hare.”

“We’ll both keep an eye on her. She’s a plucky girl, and whatever his purpose, I can’t imagine Mr. Pearce doing her any real harm. You’re far more dangerous, although luckily your supposed wickedness doesn’t affect her as it does other ladies.”

Right. Thank God they were about to pull up at Lady Alice’s house, for he wasn’t in the mood to be teased. “I’ll talk to Davis tonight and have him find out if something’s driving Pearce to dangerous folly.”

Stokes, Restive’s butler, took his hat and gloves. “Your lordship’s cousin is in the library.”

That was convenient. Looking for Davis was a nuisance, as he had no fixed abode. “Has he been here long?” Restive asked.

“A little more than an hour.” Stokes sniffed. “Instead of ringing for assistance, he laid the fire there himself. I had a cold collation sent up to him, and his bedchamber is ready as always.”

“Thank you,” Restive said. Stokes couldn’t help disapproving of Davis, whose respectability was questionable. He might or might not be Restive’s distant cousin on the distaff side; Restive neither knew nor cared. He liked Davis, who was an interesting lad—a talented actor, knowledgeable, energetic, and ruthless if need be. He seemed to enjoy being a spy.

Restive had become involved in espionage reluctantly, but he had one useful talent—that of hearing and recalling two or three conversations at once. He did a reasonably good job of noting not only the words, but the emotions behind them, and then assessing the motives those words and emotions revealed.

He hadn’t come up with much tonight. He wouldn’t be surprised if Mrs. Haraldson involved herself in something foolish, just to get back at her husband, poor chap. He’d also caught Mrs. Spence’s lovelorn glance at Fortin. Her tendre was nothing new and not reciprocated, but would Fortin use her to serve his own ends, whatever they were?