The young woman joined her at the door, and they spoke in low tones.
Charles stomped to his desk.
“Don’t look so glum.” Wilberforce clapped him on the shoulder. “Lady Mary says the girl has shown herself to be a great problem-solver. A real force to be reckoned with.”
“What’s going on?” Verity asked in a low voice.
“Strait has a new partner.” Wilberforce jerked his chin at Miss Moore.
“Assistant,” Charles gritted out. Bad enough that, but to call the chit a partner….
Hurst couldn’t smother his next laugh. “So Lord Summerset did give over to Lady Mary’s whims.” He wiped his eyes and handed Charles two quid. “You won.”
“I didn’t play.” He tried to give the money back.
Grinning, Hurst walked backwards away from him, hands raised. “Consider it a gift. Something to help ease the sting.”
Charles’s eyes trailed over Miss Moore as she kissed Lady Mary’s cheek. The girl turned and gave him a serene smile.
He clenched his teeth. Fine, he’d won the damned bet, but Charles had a feeling before all of this was through, he’d end up losing a whole lot more.
And there was no way to take the sting out of that.
Chapter Two
“…and another thing…can’t…”
The words had become a low drone in her ears, irritating and indistinguishable from each other. Cassandra rested her chin in her palm and stared out the carriage window. The last outbuildings of London faded away into verdant countryside. The late afternoon light gave everything a golden glow.
She could enjoy none of it.
Step two in her plan had been a success. She was now employed by the Bond Agency for Discreet Inquiries, something she wouldn’t have dreamt possible three short months ago.
Three months ago there were a lot of things in this world she wouldn’t have dreamt possible. Things a part of her wished she didn’t know now.
“Are you even listening to me, Miss Moore?” There was a tug on her sleeve. “If I am to be burdened with your presence, the least you can do is heed my words.”
“Hmm? Yes?” She turned to the bore who occupied the coach with her. Investigative agent Charles Strait had done nothing since entering the carriage but lecture her about all the things she mustn’t do on their case. No listening at keyholes or below open windows. It was too easy for her to get caught. No asking obvious questions. No searching of desks. Basically, no investigating on her part at all.
Mr. Strait heaved a beleaguered sigh. “I said, your job is to take note of everyone in attendance at this house party. If you can’t ascertain someone’s name, write down a description of their person. I’ll review your notes each night.”
It all sounded deadly dull. Cassie tapped her fingers on her thigh. At least her first job entailed attending a party. She’d never had her season. Lydia would be happy for her.
She faced the window once more, the back of her throat burning. She needed to succeed at her task. If she failed as an investigator’s assistant, the Bond Agency would dismiss her. Convincing Lady Mary to help her obtain this position, and it had taken much convincing, would all be for nothing.
She couldn’t return home without meeting her objective. Her parents might even now have discovered her deception, that she wasn’t staying with a friend in Sussex. There were only so many letters they would send without receiving a reply before they became suspicious.
Cassie huffed. Who was she kidding? There would be few, if any, letters from her parents. They had stopped performing such civilities like social correspondence and dinners with friends five years’ past.
“Do you find something amusing?” Mr. Strait’s brow drew down. “Your job as my”—his lips thinned—“assistant is to teach you what you can and cannot do in your position.”
She pasted a pleasant smile on her face. “Oh, are there tasks I am allowed to perform? All I’ve heard so far is everything that is forbidden. You don’t want me to do anything but drink tea and play pall-mall.”
“A competent investigator could learn much over tea and games.” He gave her his profile and crossed his arms over his chest.
She examined the man who would be her partner for the next couple of weeks, hoping he wouldn’t be a problem. By the tight set of his wide shoulders, the sharp creases pressed into his jacket, she knew he was the type of man she would be completely disinterested in if she’d met him in society. If she’d met him in her previous life.
Now he was the man who could help or hinder her mission. She couldn’t afford disinterest. In the few hours they’d spent together since they’d met the day before, she’d discovered Mr. Strait to be methodical, disciplined, and someone who didn’t see a rule he didn’t like.
