“In secret,” I added, according to the motto. He continued to watch me with a narrowed gaze. “Therefore, you are bound to provide service to the Realm—thepeoplein this case Brodie, as long as it is done in secret.”
“That is somewhat presumptuous, Lady Forsythe.”
Brodie had warned me about bantering words with Sir Avery. He was intelligent, clever, and could be quite ruthless—all in the name of the Crown, after a brilliant military career, and his family was well-placed with connections, all the more that he had been chosen to head the new Special Services office.
Presumptuous perhaps, still I had a draw card, as those familiar with the game would say. My great-aunt was most willing, had even suggested that she might call in a favor to help in the matter.
“If an assistance was to be provided in secret, then it would not be presumptuous at all, but in keeping with the purpose of the office,” I suggested.
As I said—intelligent, clever, and that other part, ruthless. And like the consummate diplomat that he could be, he sat there watching me, as if the bug—myself—might crawl out from under the glass and leave his office, never to bother him again.
“Assistance might be provided,” he finally replied. “In exchange.” And there it was. “Quid pro quo, Lady Forsythe. You seem to have some knowledge of the Latin language.”
“Something for something.”
“Precisely.”
“What might that be?” I asked, keeping in mind that intelligence, cleverness, and ruthlessness.
Sir Avery stood then, hands thrust into the pockets of his trousers as he slowly rounded his desk.
“You are a person of some accomplishment. You have traveled widely and have a knowledge of at least two languages.”
“Three,” I corrected him. “With a passing knowledge of Arabic.” When it came to asking directions and the cost of an item, and just enough to know if I was being taken advantage of. As now?
He smiled, and I thought that might not be a good thing.
“I stand corrected,” he continued. “You have also proven yourself to be most resourceful when confronted with a certain situation, as well as proficient with fire-arms and a sword?” he added with obvious skepticism.
“The rapier,” I provided, my suspicion deepening.
“Yes. And the ability to think independently. Most unusual for a woman.”
I ignored that comment and continued to wait.
“I have a proposal for you,” he continued. “One that, in consideration of your talents and skills, could be of use to me and the Agency. In exchange for assistance of the Agency in your investigation into the murder of Ellie Sutton, you will agree to participate in a case of critical importance to the Crown.”
“The counterfeit case…” I started to remind him.
“We have made progress in that with the information you have already provided. That will be resolved. I am speaking of a new case, at a time of my choosing, and one particular to your abilities and your skills. Quid pro quo, Lady Forsythe.”
A case of his choosing might mean anything and anywhere with the interests of the Crown in foreign places.
“I might continue on my own,” I replied.
“You might, however that could take substantial time. And by what you have described to me of Mr. Brodie’s present condition and circumstance, you might consider that he would not livelong enough for you to see the matter done, whereas with my approval and Agency resources…”
He left the rest of it unspoken. There was no need.
I had described Brodie’s situation, passing over the more gruesome details—it was far too painful emotionally to describe all of it. Even with that brief description he had come to the same conclusion that I had—that Brodie might not survive being imprisoned under Abberline’s authority.
“I accept,” I finally said.
“Do we need a contract, Lady Forsythe?”
“Only if there is the chance that you might refuse your part of the bargain,” I replied. “For my part, you have my word.”
“I will take it. And I will inform Mr. Sinclair that he is to make himself and Agency resources available to you.”
