“No, though I rather like giving orders,” Cade replied. When the other man chuckled, he added, “My Home Office assignments have been varied—some were rather military in nature.”
“You’re quiet about it, but you’re good at getting people to do what you think should be done. Is that some kind of gifted trick?”
“We’re not mesmerists, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” Cade said dryly. “It’s more a matter of looking at a situation and deciding what is the best solution, then persuading the man in charge to think it’s his idea.”
“That’s what you did with me, and it was very successful.” Hansen grimaced. “We wouldn’t have found that cache of gunpowder if not for you.”
“My sister Tamsyn was the one who suggested that we should search the shrubbery around the embassy.”
“That pretty little blonde was the one who sensed the gunpowder?” Hansen said, surprised. “She seems too ladylike for such things.”
“She is not to be underestimated,” Cade said with an inward smile. His gaze went to the front door of the embassy. The Whitworths were coming out together and heading down the steps, the duchess holding her husband’s arm. Behind them, Tamsyn and Mr. Holland, the ambassador’s private secretary, were quietly following.
The day had brightened, and it was easy to see Tam’s face. She looked relaxed and calm. Her gaze went to him, and he felt a stab of sharp connection. They’d always worked well together, and he felt that connection even more intensely this time, perhaps because of the seriousness of their mission.
He nodded to her, then said, “It looks like we’re ready to leave.”
“I’ll be glad to get out of Paris and onto the open road.” Hansen set his horse forward to the ambassador’s carriage. He had a brief conversation with Lord Whitworth before the ambassador, his wife, Tamsyn, and Holland climbed into the vehicle.
The gates of the embassy compound opened and the carriages rolled out. Great Britain was officially leaving France as thunderclouds of war gathered over Europe.
* * *
Tamsyn was glad when they reached the countryside. The narrow Parisian streets would be dangerous if an enemy wanted to attack, and while that didn’t happen, she could feel the hostility around them.
French roads were generally good, especially major routes like the one from Paris to Calais, and the well-sprung ambassadorial carriage was as comfortable as one could be on such a journey. She shared the backward-facing seat with Mr. Holland. The opposite seat was occupied by the Whitworths, with the ambassador quietly working at a lap desk.
The duchess sat next to him, gazing out the window with her hands clasped tightly in her lap. It didn’t take a gifted person to recognize her tension and her desire to be back in England.
Just three days earlier, Tamsyn and Cade had made this journey south at top speed, riding the best available horses and changing frequently at the post houses along the way. She’d been dressed as a boy because riding astride was faster. Cade had perhaps slowed his pace a little so she could keep up, but if so, she hadn’t held him back much. Though she was small, she’d always had excellent stamina.
When they reached Paris, they’d stopped to change to more respectable clothing and gone to the embassy in Moreau’s carriage. This journey would be slower and less exhausting physically, but they must both keep alert. She was always aware of Cade’s location, and on this journey, her consciousness shadowed his as they both watched for danger.
After a long, boring day of travel, Tamsyn was glad when the ambassadorial party stopped for the night at an inn that was adequate, though no more than that. She and Holland dined with the Whitworths in a private parlor, but when they were done, she went in search of Cade. He’d eaten in the common room, then taken a sturdy tumbler of wine outside to sip while he relaxed on a bench and watched the last fading streaks of sunset.
Tamsyn smiled and sat next to him. “One day passed without disaster, but by the time we reach Calais, I’m going to be really tired of traveling!”
“I’m already tired of it, but at least this is slower than our mad journey to Paris.” He wrapped a casual arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him with a sigh. She always felt relaxed with Cade.
She borrowed his glass for a sip. “A rather nice red wine. One of the advantages of being in France.” She returned the tumbler. “Have you sensed any signs of trouble?”
“Not really, but I have a sense that we’re being watched.” He hesitated before continuing, “The disturbing part is that it feels as if we’re being stalked by the man who planted the gunpowder by the embassy wall.”
Tamsyn frowned. “Your scorpion. Can you describe what he feels like?”
“Cold. Focused.” He sipped more wine. “Ruthless.”
“Can you share that feeling with me so I’ll recognize him if he’s near?”
“I’m not sure, but it’s worth trying.” He raised the arm around her shoulders and touched warm fingers to the middle of her forehead.
After a still moment, she felt a jolt of energy so startling that she gasped and jerked away from Cade. “I didn’t know it was possible to transmit the feeling of another person so intensely!”
He caught her hand to steady her. “What did you experience?” he asked quietly.
“Give me a moment to sort it out.” She closed her eyes and stilled her mind so she could analyze the complicated mix of energies she’d received from her brother. “I felt you very strongly, as if you were protecting me from the Scorpion’s energy. He’s as cold and vicious as you’ve said.”
“You’re the expert in reading people. Do you think he’ll attack the ambassador on the journey to Calais?”
