He pushed off the wall and set his feet into swift motion, closing the distance between them in five strides. He slid his arm into the crook of hers before curving a left and redirecting them toward tonight’s venue. From the outside, they must look like the devoted couple they weren’t.
“I see you’ve returned to the newly released prisoner look tonight,” she observed once their feet settled into a steady rhythm.
Nick brushed self-conscious knuckles across day-old stubble. “I was aiming for bohemian revolutionary.”
“A different costume every night?” He detected a caustic note in the question. “What are we to do tonight? And why am I attired like a Bartholomew baby?”
Nick couldn’t resist the tug of a smile. “I take it I have Francis Grose to thank for that bit of color?”
Mariana cleared her throat. He suspected he might have seen a blush pinking her cheeks in the light of day. “It’s another way of saying I look tawdry. I mean this dress, Nick.”
He didn’t need to look to know what she meant bythis dress. “It’s necessary that you dress in this manner for yourspy lesson.” He felt silly speaking those words aloud. “Unlike London, much of the intellectual life in Paris takes place in cafés. Tonight, you are mylorette.”
“Lorette?” she asked, her gaze hot on the side of his face. “Do I want to know?”
“Neither wife nor whore.” He hesitated. “Mistress.”
“So this is what we’ve come to? I am now your mistress? I’ve often wondered what skills mistresses possess that wives don’t.” A short laugh escaped her. “No one would mistake us for conventional. And, pray tell, what new skill am I to learn tonight? If last night’s lesson was duplicity and guile, tonight’s is”—She indicated the twin rounded mounds of her breasts with her free hand—“what?”
“Invisibility.”
Another laugh sounded, but this one possessed a fine, sharp edge. “In this dress? With my waist cinched tight and my breasts up to my ears?”
His gaze raked over her. “The latest Parisian style suits you.”
Blessedly ignoring that last bit, Mariana continued her complaint, “Pray tell, how am I supposed to be invisible when so much of me is visible? Besides, I thought the purpose of my spying activities was to make myselfnoticedby Villefranche.”
“Mariana, you’ve done admirably well in making yourselfobviousto the man.” Her body stiffened at his side. “Sometimes you need to be inconspicuous in this game we’re playing. It’s important that you’re able to transition between being seen andunseen at will.” He paused. “You’ve never been a wallflower.”
“Let me make certain I have the facts straight. You think I will beunseen with my bosom exposed in this lewd manner?”
“What else will any male within a mile be able to see?” He came to a stop on the empty sidewalk and faced her. “But they won’t seeyou.”
Her eyes narrowed before she exhaled a soft, “Ah,” and kept the rest of her thoughts to herself.
Nick cleared his throat and held out his arm, indicating his readiness to resume their progress. “The intent of thesespy lessonsis to introduce some artifice into your dealings with the world.” He paused. “Your gaze is too curious, too assured, too aristocratic, and too direct.”
“You make it sound as if I’m entirely too much.”
It was true: she was entirely too much. But he wouldn’t confirm it for her. “An agent must make herself invisible at will. It could mean the difference between life and death in this game. You must commit to it.”
“So,” she began, “that was what you were doing when I spotted you just now? Making yourself invisible to the world?”
“Pardon?”
“And the man with you? Was he being invisible, too?”
Nick remained silent. Better to let her make her point.
“His bearded profile bore a striking resemblance to that of the croupier from last night.” Amber eyes, wide and unflinching, watched him for a reaction, and a smug, little smile tipped up the corners of her mouth.
She had him.
Nick weighed his next words and decided to speak the truth. “I trust him.”
“I thought no one could be trusted.”
“I trust him with my life.” He hesitated before adding, “And with yours.”
