Page 66 of A Courtship of Conspiracies
Kate’s hand flew to her throat. “Our family received our invitation to the ball weeks ago.”
Dread took hold and he caught her arm. “When, Kate? When is the ball?”
“In five days.”
He forced himself to let go of her arm, fingers curling once against his palm. Five days. Just five days to discover the target and stop the assassination. It was also possible that The Sentinel would be at the ball, but if James did not know his identity, the man would slip through his fingers before James even realized he had been there.
“Five days is hardly sufficient time to identify the threat, much less stop it,” Kate observed.
James nodded. “I agree. Five days? And only the three of us?” His mind raced, exploring possibilities, each more impossible than the last. He could not shake the sense of foreboding that swirled around him. For once, he had no plan.
“We will need help. If the Arcadian Circle is as well connected as we suspect, how do we know who to trust?”
Westmarch did not hesitate. “I have been attempting for the past five years to recruit and train a network of agents, men and women who can work together and share information. Our current system of lone agents, or even pairs, has benefited our enemies.”
Hope stirred in James’s chest, but Westmarch held out a hand before he could speak.
“Unfortunately, it is still incomplete, and since several active agents are on assignment too far away to be useful in time, we will have to build our plan around those near London.” He stared pensively at the low-burning fire. “And perhaps recruit help from those we trust.”
James had few men he trusted with his life, but his inner circle of friends was beyond reproach.
“I have four men in mind who would not hesitate to stand with us,” James said. “And their particular talents are exactly what this affair requires.”
Westmarch gave him a dry smile. “I am well aware, James. You have a singular talent for choosing the right sort of friends.”
He hoped Kate would forgive him for his first suggestion. “I think Hugh would—”
“Hugh is already working with me. For several months now.”
For the third time that day, James could find no words. A faint smile touched Westmarch’s lips. He was clearly enjoying James’s reaction.
When James finally risked a glance at Kate, her back was rigid and her chin lifted.
“That explains why Hugh had the note about the Wycliffs’ ball in his saddlebags,” she murmured.
Knowing Kate, she was likely upset that Hugh had not shared his secret. But how, precisely, had she ended up with her brother’s note? He should not be surprised her presence in the library had been no accident. James’s jaw tightened. When he saw his friend next, he was going to throttle the man for letting Kate anywhere near danger.
He forced his thoughts back to the current task. “My friend Nicholas could . . .” His voice trailed off at Westmarch’s knowing smile, and he let out a huff. “Let me guess. Nicholas is working with you as well?”
Westmarch only smiled.
“Do I have any family or friends left whom you haven’t recruited, Westmarch?” he asked as he braced himself for more revelations. “Should I expect my valet to begin studying ciphers while he brushes my coat? Or the woman selling flowers on Bond Street to start passing me notes?”
“I have kept an eye on William and Alex myself, though I have not approached them yet,” Westmarch said, foldinghis arms across his chest. “I suspect their skills would prove invaluable to our network. If you believe they can be of use at the charity ball, you have my leave to approach them. But James . . .” He leaned in slightly. “To recruit them is to reveal your own hand. How much do you trust these friends?”
“With my life,” he replied. The rigid tension in his shoulders finally gave way. He would no longer need to lie to his closest friends, and they would not shun him for his role as an agent like most of society if they knew the truth.
Hugh and Nicholas . . . and Kate.
All this time, he had not been alone.
“I must return to London within the hour,” said Westmarch, already half in motion. “I need to speak with Lord Barrington about the ball. There are also men who need to be warned so we can quietly alter the Privy Council arrangements.”
As Westmarch paced the room, weighing and discarding possible plans, Kate stood to retrieve the scattered ledger pages. James moved to help her, careful to leave a little distance between them. Not because he no longer wanted to be near her, but because he had no right to ask for comfort while so much remained unsaid between them.
Their fingers brushed over the same page. Neither of them moved away.
There was a conspiracy to thwart, ciphers to unravel, and the Crown to protect. But before any of that, there was a conversation that he and Kate could no longer avoid.
