“I know that you have business and would not delay you from important affairs, but I did wonder, sir, just how you did it.” She turned an earnest gaze upon him.
“Did it?”
“You said that your father insisted that you abandon your life as a rakehell and by all accounts, you simply did it. You surrendered the pleasures of dancing and gambling and attending parties. I can only imagine that there was excitement in the fighting of duels and satisfaction in shopping without consideration to expense, in horses and carriages and—” she took a breath “—the company of ladies. Did you truly change it all immediately and completely?”
“I did. Not without some yearning to assume my old ways, but the work my father invited me to share with him was more than sufficiently rewarding. I suspect also that it suited me better than a life of revels.”
“Truly?”
“There is satisfaction in believing one’s efforts to be of merit.”
“Oh, I can believe as much. Perhaps that is the key.”
“Is there a matter troubling you, Miss Emerson?”
She clasped her hands together and appealed to him. “I endeavor to change my ways, to be less susceptible to temptation and to think before I surrender to impulse.” She sighed. “But it is so very hard. I am curious, particularly it seems to forbidden adventures, and even knowing that much could go awry, I still am willing to undertake the risk to know.”
“I see.” Joshua looked into the distance, keenly aware that she was watching him, her manner expectant and hopeful. In truth, he would have done anything for her, but knew that such a pledge was not what she sought in this moment. “Perhaps you have need of a distraction, Miss Emerson. I had the task I shared with my father, which was most intriguing and challenging.”
She dropped her voice to a delighted whisper. “Were you truly a spy? That is what they say.”
Joshua could not halt his smile. He liked that she listened to gossip about him, for it showed a measure of interest. He leaned toward her and whispered in reply. “Not a spy, but one who sought tidings in the messages sent by spies.”
“Oh. That would like solving a giant riddle.”
“Oftentimes it was.”
“But what manner of tidings might you find?”
“A man in a town might send word that a great deal of wine had been delivered to a local address. Another might confide that all the fodder for horses in that town had been quietly acquired. We might assemble a number of such individual indications and thus derive a location where the enemy intended to meet in consultation or even move their forces.”
“How very clever!” she said with delight. “But please do not tell me more. I would not jeopardize your confidence.”
“The war is over, Miss Emerson.”
“But there are always continuing hostilities in one corner of the world or another,” she said. “A man of your skills might be needed again and if so, I wager it might be a secret.” She frowned and looked away. “I cannot think of a distraction that might occupy me, at least not a suitable one.”
Joshua dared to say it. “You might wed. A wife can have many obligations.”
She laughed. “But I have foolishly refused the only suitor I had. You see how impulse steers me false?”
Joshua looked at her, unable to believe the encouragement he found in her expression. Had she changed her mind?
Had she guessed that he had been the one to come to her aid?
She smiled a little and reached out a fingertip to his waistcoat, not quite touching it. “What a fine garment, sir, with such delightful needlework.”
“I thank you. It is a relic of those days in London, and one I have not worn with sufficient frequency.”
“I think it suits you most well,” she said, granting him an admiring glance that made him catch his breath. She raised her gaze to his. “Perhaps there are some elements of those days that are worthy of retaining.”
“You are correct, of course. There is little to be gained in keeping good garments and boots locked away, for the sake of the memories they provoke.”
She sobered then. “I am sorry about the loss of your betrothed.”
“As am I, Miss Emerson, and I thank you for your sympathy. It has been many years, though.”
“But surely love does not fade so readily as that.”
