Page 13 of A Dangerous Engagement

I am pleased you are enjoying yourself at Doverton Hall with Lady Blackstone and her guests. As for your inquiries about Oliver Ratley, your father says that he has a fortune left to him by his father, who was a successful merchant. He knows nothing of the son, and of the father he knows only that he was a clever businessman. Your father and I will make further inquiries, but if your aunt Lady Blackstone approves of him, then I think he would be a great match for you.

Mother went on to give the news from home, of various colds, disagreements, and household intrigues that were interesting or amusing.

“Is that a letter from your mother?” Aunt Agnes asked.

“Yes, it finally came.” She relayed the information about Mr.Ratley first. “And everyone is in good health, and Tom has arrived with his regiment in the Netherlands.”

“Mr.Ratley is an honorable man, then? It does sound as if your mother would approve of your forming an attachment to him.”

“Yes.” Still, Felicity would have preferred if her mother had more information or had known his mother or father personally. All she really knew was that he was truthful about his situation in life. She was left to make up her own mind about his character—and about how trustworthy Lady Blackstone’s opinions were.

Felicity gave Auntie the letter to read for herself. She stared down at the seal, holding her eyeglasses close to it.

“It almost looks as if the seal was pried off and melted again. The seal is warped. Would your mother have done that?”

“I suppose she might, if she had forgotten to say something after sealing it. But would she not have just sealed it again with new wax?”

Felicity examined the seal herself. It did indeed appear as if someone had melted the wax again, as the edges were smudged and the seal was slightly blurred.

“The weather is not warm enough to have melted and smudged it,” Felicity mused aloud.

Aunt Agnes’s brow creased. “It was just so in a book I read. The nefarious uncle intercepted the heroine’s letter and opened and altered it.”

Felicity examined the letter again. “It is certainly Mother’s handwriting and her style of writing. Nothing seems amiss about the content of the letter. Besides, who would want to intercept and read my letters?”

She smiled, trying to shrug off the uneasy feeling her aunt’s words had given her. It was silly. Auntie had read too many novels.

“I’m sure you are correct, my dear. No one would interfere with your correspondence with your mother.” But the crease between her eyes lingered.

While most of the other guests were readying themselves for dinner, Philip came downstairs to see if anyone was about. He did not want to miss any clandestine meetings or important conversations.

He found Miss Felicity Mayson sitting by a window with an open book as she wrote on a sheet of paper.

His eyesight had always been excellent, so while she still had not discovered him standing there, he tried to see if he could read what she was writing from across the room.

The writings were similar to tiny drawings, or even just random markings. He stepped a bit closer. They looked even less like words. Was she writing in some sort of code? Or perhaps learning a code?

His stomach sank at the thought that she was one of this group of revolutionaries. What other reason could there be for her learning to write in code? She had such an expression of goodness in her face whenever she spoke. Mr.Langdon and his wife would be most disappointed to find that their friend was a traitor to England.

He stepped forward, letting his footsteps be heard. Miss Mayson glanced up and closed the paper inside the book, turning the book over so that its cover could not be seen.

“Good evening,” Philip greeted her.

“Good evening.” She placed her hands over the book in her lap.

“I hope I am not disturbing you. I can leave you alone if you like.”

“Oh no, that is not necessary.” She smiled. “I was only giving my aunt some time alone in our room. I thought I would do a bit of studying downstairs.”

“Studying?”

“Yes. I enjoy novels, but I also spend time studying. Mr.Merrick, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Miss Mayson. You have a good memory.” Another trait of a spy. Now that he thought about it, women would make good spies; they were such mysterious creatures.

“Thank you. I have met quite a few people since coming to Doverton Hall, but I cannot say I remember all the names.”

Was she telling the truth?