Page 13 of A Spy’s Guide to Seduction

“The fellow’s name is Archer.” Lynley watched to see whether Goldsworthy reacted to the name. Not a twitch. “His pocket, but not his glove. Archer’s not our man.”

“You’d best be certain of that, lad.”

In Lynley’s mind it wasn’t as simple as Ravenhurst and Chartwell had supposed. “Archer is one of Lady Ravenhurst’s flirts.”

After Lynley had sent Emily Radstock home, he followed Archer and his friend to a gaming establishment, where they entered into several rounds of deep play. Archer never touched the gloves in his pocket. “If he has a role to play in the game, my guess is that he’s a courier, and an unwitting one, at that. I doubt he has any idea that he may have been used to move documents.”

“But he was not used to move them, as apparently you intervened.” Goldsworthy’s voice was a roar of displeasure probably heard all the way to Piccadilly. His large hands hit the table, making inkpots and pens bounce.

Lynley shrugged. He objected to clumsiness and cruelty. Ravenhurst’s ruse would not have worked because Lynley was certain that the papers had been taken some time earlier and hidden in the cloakroom. No search of guests descending from the ballroom would have turned up the papers in the glove.

“Did I mention that there were two papers rolled inside the glove?”

“Two papers?”

Lynley reached into his waistcoat pocket and withdrew the scrap of paper he’d found curled up inside the document he’d returned to Ravenhurst’s library. He tossed it onto the big man’s desk. Goldsworthy snatched it up and spread it out under his big hands.

“I depend on you,” Goldsworthy read. He looked up at Lynley. “What do you make of it?”

Lynley had been pondering that question with the part of his brain that remained functioning after Emily Radstock’s kiss. He doubted that Archer was the “you” upon whom the writer of the note depended. Archer had left the party to spend an evening in careless play and deep drinking. Nor was there anyone at the gaming club with whom Archer had exchanged a word other than to place his bets or summon more spirits.

The “I” of the note was still more of a mystery, given the number of guests and servants present at Lady Ravenhurst’s party. What Lynley could be sure of was that a degree of intimacy existed between the sender and the intended receiver of the note. No names were required between them. They had a plan, and they trusted one another.

“Depend on our mystery man to do what?” Goldsworthy asked.

“There must be an expected return. The documents must be in exchange for something.”

“Money?” Goldsworthy quirked a shaggy brow. “The Russians pay well.”

“Only if one of the guests is rather desperate, I’d say.”

“We have to find those papers, lad, and we can’t have our men...”

“Thinking on their own?”

“…bolloxing up the job when the traitor was ours for the taking.”

Lynley hid a smile. He thought he’d handled Ravenhurst’s wrong-headed scheme rather well. It was the kiss he’d bungled. He had meant to kiss Emily Radstock, lightly, playfully, to plant a distracting but forgettable peck on that quick mouth of hers. Kissing was supposed to be fun. He had not meant to get himself so worked up. He was no monk, but he was not his uncle, either.

“Our man is out there.” Goldsworthy frowned. “He came to the party and took the bait. We need to lure him back to Ravenhurst’s library.”

“Do you have the guest list, sir?” Lynley asked.

“I do.” The big man managed to extract a paper from the piles around him and hand it across the desk.

Lynley stood, accepting the list and glancing at the names. “It’s through Lady Ravenhurst that guests have access to the house. We’ll watch her in the park or at home to see which of her particular friends might have connections to the Russians.”

“You think our man is going to go after papers at a hen party?”

“Gentlemen call as often as ladies, and the library opens from the entry, very accessible.”

“You’ll call then?”

“With my betrothed. Perfectly acceptable. And we’ll go for a drive in the park.” At least in the park there would be no danger of getting Emily Radstock alone in a dark corner and kissing her senseless.

“I will put Wilde on to watching the house. See who comes and goes, that sort of thing. Our man will try again.”

Chapter Five