“I spoke to Viscount Slothington,” Vivy said. “I have known him for a number of years because of Posy.”
His eyes narrowed. “What did you ask?”
“About you,” Vivy admitted. “To see what he would tell me.” Her cheeks burned. “But only after he brought you into the conversation.”
Ravenwood went very still. Vivy swallowed, forcing herself to continue. “You were with me when I met the Marquess of Everington and you heard what I asked him.”
His gaze hardened. “Everington is on the list then”
“You were also with me for most of my conversation with Thornhill as well,” Vivy said. “Truthfully, I learned nothing from any of you. It was more a feeling I got while I talked with the three of you. None of you acted like the gentlemen I’ve had interactions with since I was launched into society.”
His mouth tightened, as if he had words he wanted to unleash and would not permit himself to do it. “In what way are we different?”
Vivy took a breath and made herself say what mattered most. “Slothington uses sarcasm to ensure people leave him alone and it works. Thornhill is a very skilled charmer, but if you look closely enough you see the facade, and Everington…”
“What about him? Not charming enough for you?”
She shook her head. “Oh, he’s charming, certainly. I could tell that even from the brief conversation we had. It wasn’t until I asked him about traveling that the wariness entered his gaze. He’s not as skilled as he believes at hiding his secrets. Someone should tell him he needs more practice.”
Dash sighed. “He isn’t as active as some of us are. So, you are right. He does need more experience.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “You recognized Wren’s name when I whispered it.”
“Yes, when we found him in the hedge and you said his name. I recalled it from the list.” She clenched her fingers together.
Something in Ravenwood’s face shifted, it was a mix of anger and something colder. But she had gotten through most of the explanations. He pushed off the desk slowly. “Tell me the names you remember.”
Vivy’s pulse leapt inside her chest. This was the moment that felt most dangerous. Not because she feared him, but because saying the names aloud made them real. It turned ink into living things.
She drew a steadying breath. “Leander Ashby,” she began. “The Duke of Lionston.”
Ravenwood’s gaze did not change. “Go on.”
“You know the other lords as I spoke with them.” She blew out a breath
Vivy lifted her chin stubbornly, because it was too late for delicacy. “and Phillip Wren.”
His eyes flashed—gold to green—so quick she might have imagined it. Ravenwood’s jaw tightened. “Anyone else?”
“There were others,” Vivy admitted, frustration spreading through her. “I cannot recall them all. Some I did not recognize and that made it harder for me to find them to ask questions. So, I decided they could wait. I have told you the ones I remember with certainty.”
Silence filled the room, heavy as velvet. At last, Ravenwood spoke, “Thank you for telling me it all,” he said. “When we return to London would you please give me the list and the note.”
“I…” She frowned. “Why?” He was no longer a spy. What would he need with that information. “You’re not involved with the war or spying. Shouldn’t it go to someone who can do something?”
“I am not involved at the war office. You’re right.” He sighed. “But I am still…active.”
She nodded because she suspected as much. Of course he was still a spy, and that meant he would always be involved in some sort of trouble. She should have known that. He had always been observant and formidable. “I will give it all to you.”
“Good,” he said and then smiled at her. “Now that we have settled that we have another matter to discuss.”
“We do?” She couldn’t imagine what.
“We do,” he said. “You want me to call you Vivy. I have complied. But we have a problem. You still refer to me as Lord Ravenwood.”
Vivy blinked, and mumbled. “Well, you are Lord Ravenwood.”
What was he asking of her here? Did he not want to call her Vivy and this as his way of telling her that? She was so confused by this turn in their conversation.
His gaze held hers. “Not to you.” Her heart stumbled as she stared at him. He took a slow breath, as if the words cost him. “You may call me Dash.”
