both of us,” he said. “Obviously, you are concerned about supporting yourself. I have more money than I need. And I don’t have a wife yet. Marrying me would solve this problem, save you from having to seduce the Comte, and provide for you so you wouldn’t need a paying position.”
For a moment, she merely blinked at him as she processed his words. Then her hands clenched and unclenched around the edge of the dressing table. “Have you completely taken leave of your senses? Do you even hear what you’re suggesting?” Her eyes narrowed. “Is this because of the kiss?”
“Of course not. Damnation, Emma, if you think I’ve proposed to every woman I’ve ever kissed—”
“I did not mean to imply such a thing.”
“I offered you a solution, a way out of seducing the Comte.” He held up a hand. “Nothing more.”
“No,” she shook her head. “I will not marry you. I don’t need you to save me or provide for me. I have been trained in espionage, and I have been given a task to complete.”
Marriage was a valid solution to the problem. Her refusal to admit it meant one of two things—either she’d lied, and she did want to follow through with the assignment, or she thought the idea of marrying him far worse than seducing a portly Parisian. Her rejection stung, he wouldn’t lie, but only because he wasn’t used to hearing no. He was an earl, and people rarely told earls no. If she didn’t want his help, then so be it. With abrupt movements, he grabbed his coat off the hook where he’d only just hung it. “I’m going out.”
“Where are you going?”
“To follow a lead I found earlier.” He nodded to the parchment on the floor by her feet. “Looks as if you’ll be too busy to assist.”
Chapter One
Two years later
August, 1814, London
Emma couldn’t breathe.
If she stayed in this closet for much longer, she was certain to expire, or at the very least, faint. What little air there was clogged her nostrils and coated her tongue. She was going to suggest the housekeeper air out the closet and beat the dust from every item, assuming she survived this encounter. Her charges were long in bed, and Lady Comfry had taken laudanum for a headache and probably wouldn’t awaken until tomorrow afternoon.
Emma took advantage of the sleeping household to come into Lord Comfry’s study and poke around to see if she could find anything of use. When she heard men’s voices coming, she sneaked into the storage closet in an attempt to hide herself. Now it seemed she’d play witness to a secret meeting with Comfry and some other man.
Despite the dust tickling her nose, she could not step outside of the small room else she’d reveal herself to the very men she watched. Through the tiny crack in the door, she could clearly see her employer, Lord Comfry, but could not see the man to whom he spoke. And she did not recognize his voice, but their hushed conversation concealed their tones. Three months before, she had been assigned to Lord Comfry’s townhome, a governess to his two children. So she taught the children, all the while absorbing every word spoken in the house, especially those of Lord Comfry himself. He was suspected of treason, specifically of feeding information to the French.
For the last three years, she had worked for the Seven. That didn’t include the eight months of training she’d endured at the prestigious and extremely covert Seven Academy. Ever since that nightmare in Paris, she’d requested to work without a partner. She never again wanted to be in the position of having a partner tell her how to do her job. Or of being tempted by such intimacy. So she resigned herself to a string of governess assignments, gathering intelligence and keeping to herself.
This was her fourth solo assignment since returning to London. So far, she had gathered all of her information into books and sent them to her director supervisor, whom she only knew as Johnston. Though she’d met him on
For a moment, she merely blinked at him as she processed his words. Then her hands clenched and unclenched around the edge of the dressing table. “Have you completely taken leave of your senses? Do you even hear what you’re suggesting?” Her eyes narrowed. “Is this because of the kiss?”
“Of course not. Damnation, Emma, if you think I’ve proposed to every woman I’ve ever kissed—”
“I did not mean to imply such a thing.”
“I offered you a solution, a way out of seducing the Comte.” He held up a hand. “Nothing more.”
“No,” she shook her head. “I will not marry you. I don’t need you to save me or provide for me. I have been trained in espionage, and I have been given a task to complete.”
Marriage was a valid solution to the problem. Her refusal to admit it meant one of two things—either she’d lied, and she did want to follow through with the assignment, or she thought the idea of marrying him far worse than seducing a portly Parisian. Her rejection stung, he wouldn’t lie, but only because he wasn’t used to hearing no. He was an earl, and people rarely told earls no. If she didn’t want his help, then so be it. With abrupt movements, he grabbed his coat off the hook where he’d only just hung it. “I’m going out.”
“Where are you going?”
“To follow a lead I found earlier.” He nodded to the parchment on the floor by her feet. “Looks as if you’ll be too busy to assist.”
Chapter One
Two years later
August, 1814, London
Emma couldn’t breathe.
If she stayed in this closet for much longer, she was certain to expire, or at the very least, faint. What little air there was clogged her nostrils and coated her tongue. She was going to suggest the housekeeper air out the closet and beat the dust from every item, assuming she survived this encounter. Her charges were long in bed, and Lady Comfry had taken laudanum for a headache and probably wouldn’t awaken until tomorrow afternoon.
Emma took advantage of the sleeping household to come into Lord Comfry’s study and poke around to see if she could find anything of use. When she heard men’s voices coming, she sneaked into the storage closet in an attempt to hide herself. Now it seemed she’d play witness to a secret meeting with Comfry and some other man.
Despite the dust tickling her nose, she could not step outside of the small room else she’d reveal herself to the very men she watched. Through the tiny crack in the door, she could clearly see her employer, Lord Comfry, but could not see the man to whom he spoke. And she did not recognize his voice, but their hushed conversation concealed their tones. Three months before, she had been assigned to Lord Comfry’s townhome, a governess to his two children. So she taught the children, all the while absorbing every word spoken in the house, especially those of Lord Comfry himself. He was suspected of treason, specifically of feeding information to the French.
For the last three years, she had worked for the Seven. That didn’t include the eight months of training she’d endured at the prestigious and extremely covert Seven Academy. Ever since that nightmare in Paris, she’d requested to work without a partner. She never again wanted to be in the position of having a partner tell her how to do her job. Or of being tempted by such intimacy. So she resigned herself to a string of governess assignments, gathering intelligence and keeping to herself.
This was her fourth solo assignment since returning to London. So far, she had gathered all of her information into books and sent them to her director supervisor, whom she only knew as Johnston. Though she’d met him on
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