PROLOGUE
August 1817
Miss Heather Morganhad timed it perfectly. She’d taken up a spot in a hidden servant’s corridor with her squirming sack, waiting for the ideal moment. Her task was to orchestrate a distraction, and that was precisely what she would do.
Once the quadrille was underway, she opened the door leading into the ballroom and emptied the sack.
“Rats!” A shrill scream rent the air, followed closely by others.
People moved like a wave along the ballroom floor, everyone shouting or screeching in horror as a plethora of rats bounded heedlessly through the space.
While everyone fled in one direction, Heather went the other, slipping through an opened doorway and into a rear corridor. Maria appeared at the end of the hall, a devilish smirk on her lips.
“Do you think they’re sufficiently distracted?” Heather asked breathlessly.
Maria rolled her eyes heavenward as they drew nearer to each other. “We merely required a few minutes’ time in order to search the earl’s study for the letters.”
“We shall have plenty of time, then.”
Following the direction the client had given them, they made their way to the study and began to search. They each took one side of the room, testing each drawer and shelf for any hidden compartments. Cordelia would, even now, be searching the earl’s bedchamber for the same letters. Lord knew if they would get another chance.
Parchment rustled behind her, and Maria exclaimed, “Here.I have them. Do you think that this is all of them?”
“I’ll make certain,” Heather said, taking the letters and waving a hand at her. “Go on, now! Return to the ballroom and keep everyone busy. I will count the letters and destroy them.”
With a nod, Maria swept from the room and returned to the chaos in the ballroom.
“Six, seven…eight,” Heather whispered as she counted. The abhorrent letters were all there.
She turned toward the hearth and, for a moment, her heart all but stopped.Fire. The orange flames rippled and lapped at the coals, and her heart thudded in her ears. It was so close, the heat from it surrounded her, and the faint screams?—
The study door slammed open with abangthat reverberated through her chest. Pulse jumping, Heather stared wide-eyed into the furious dark gaze of the Earl of Hanley.
“Youbitch,” he snarled, his lips curling back over yellowing, aged teeth. “I’ll tell your aunt about this, Miss Morgan.”
This was it, then. The bastard had caught her, knew her family, and had the ability to ruin her life, just as he’d threatened to do to their client.Well, she mused,he’ll only ruin life for one of us.
In one swift movement, she tossed the letters into the fire, the parchment instantly catching ablaze and curling at the ends until it was shrivelled, blackened ash. The tightness in her chest eased a fraction. At least one woman was saved from the man. Now, she merely needed to sort out how to save herself.
The earl’s gaze narrowed on her. “I’ll see to it that you regret that.”
CHAPTER 1
Asennight later
Misery.Despite the crush of colourful costumes, the strains of a lively quadrille filling the decadent ballroom, and her two closest friends at her side, Miss Heather Morgan’s mood had been sucked into a dark hole of despair.
This was her last night in England, and she’d been forced into attending Lord and Lady Ashford’s masquerade on the arm of her affianced, Arnold Fitton, the Earl of Hanley. On the morrow, they were to board a navy frigate and sail to the Americas. Heather was being removed from everything she knew and everyone she treasured…including her beloved plants.
It was, however, for good reason.
Once their assignment had been completed and their client released from her entrapment by the “Earl ofShite,” the man had latched on to Heather to fulfil his apparent duty to his aged cousin in the Americas. He’d not yet given a reason for his urgency to marry—or why, precisely, he required them to wedinthe Americas—but he was firmly resolved.
Naturally, upon learning of her circumstance, her superior, Miss Grace Huntsbury, and fellow runners had set into action a plan to garner Heather’s freedom. Their reconnaissance, however, had unearthed notable scandals and gross transgressions, including—quite possibly—treason.
Thatwas Heather’s new assignment: to feign capitulation, journey with the Earl of Shite to the Americas as his affianced bride, and take every opportunity to glean information—and preferably proof—of his dastardly dealings. Once she found what was required, she would make good her escape. Andthatwas where her team came in. Percy, their fighting trainer, was already commissioned on board the frigate and would no doubt prove incredibly useful as a man with seafaring knowledge. And Cordelia was to accompany Heather as her maid.
Nervous excitement rippled across her abdomen at the thought of Percy being in such close quarters for such a prolonged period, but she determinedly stifled the feeling.He is my trainer and a member of my team on this assignment. Pull yourself together, Heather, for pity’s sake.
