“This is possibly going to be a wild-goose chase,” Rose warned.
“Every Sherlock needs his Watson,” Myrtle countered. “Besides, I have already taken a sabbatical to help you convalesce. If you are determined to ferret out spies, then I shall be at your side.”
Determined.Rose wasn’t sure if that was the correct word—especially when she wasn’t even certain that what shewaschasing was real. But she definitely did feel compelled.
What I was looking for?Rose’s old words drifted back into her mind—the ones she’d spoken months ago to the viscount in the poste de secours.
Purpose ... a reason, he had answered.
It seemed his mission had become hers. Was she racing toward a real goal, though, or was she just chasing specters in her own version of No Man’s Land?
Chapter 2
London, England
April 1919
“One of your holdings is the Isle ofHamarray?” Rose nearly bobbled her fork in excitement as she stared at her dinner companion, the Earl of Mar. She had spent the London Season socializing with members of the ton and asking questions about the late Viscount Barbury. And during the last few weeks, she had been practicallywooingthe lord’s father.
Now finally—just as Rose had begun to entirely lose faith in her sleuthing abilities and her own experience that night in Daytona—she’d unearthed a clue. Could Hamarray have been what Barbury had said when she’d heard the wordhammer? She’d been gathering gossip about Mar and Barbury for months, yet no one had ever mentioned the island.
Mar’s sculpted lips moved into a smile that never failed to slightly unsettle Rose. It was just too perfect, too pleasant, toopracticed. He was a handsome man with even, chiseled features and blond hair threaded with a few strands of sparkling silver. But the earl was also the type of smug fellow whom Rose normally avoided. She liked confident men but not supremely self-satisfied ones. Unfortunately, due to the circumstances, Rose was not only enduring this particular noble’s considerable vanity but actively encouraging it.
He wasn’t just Barbury’s father but Rose’s chief suspect. His own son had warned her that spies were everywhere. According to the reliable London rumor mill, the earl was in dun territory, which was an old-fashioned way of saying flat broke. German gold would be quite tempting to a man with a clear taste for luxury, from the rich foods he ate to the expensive equipage he drove.
“My dear girl,” Mar said with a touch too much familiarity, “I do not own one island but two. There’s a nearby islet called Frest. It is connected to Hamarray by a sandbar when the tide is out.”
“Two isles!” Rose batted her eyes like a ninny. “Land sakes alive! And I meanland sakes. That’s a lot of property.”
“Oh, they are not much—mere parcels, I assure you.” The earl waved a gloved hand dismissively, but he grinned like a Cheshire cat presented with a gallon of cream.
“How is it I’ve never heard about them until now? If I owned two islands, I’d tell everyone as soon as I met them.” Rose leaned across her plate of oysters, as if physically drawn in by the peer’s presence.
Mar’s responding chuckle was charming enough, but Rose didn’t miss the hint of amusement at her gauche American behavior ... or the fact that she’d flattered him. He glanced around the long dining table of their hostess, the Dowager Duchess of Waterhamden, as if to make sure no one was listening. No one was, of course. Rose was quite certain that the Society matron had arranged the seating so that her old crony could have a tête-à-tête with his latest quarry. The elderly man beside Rose was not just hard of hearing but engaged in a rather loud conversation with his equally aged dinner companion. Across from them was a couple clearly engaged in an extramarital affair with each other and paying attention to no one but themselves. Even more conspicuous, the dowager had left the seating at the foot of the table next to Mar scandalously empty.
“I do not speak of my personal paradise often. Those who are invited to it are sworn to secrecy. It’s my veryprivateretreat, you see.”
“Oooh. A hush-hush island—how exciting.” Rose puckered her lips into a perfect moue, a trick her mother had taught her. Mother would approve of her employing the technique on an earl butnotthe counterespionage aspect. At least Rose didn’t have to entirely feign interest this time. Could Mar’s determination to keep Hamarray hidden have anything to do with spying?
“I thought you’d find it thrilling.” The earl was practically purring now. “You are just the right sort of cheeky, modern girl who’s always looking for an exciting lark. Aren’t you?”
Not anymore, and you’re definitely not my idea of adventure anyway.But Rose’s real thoughts on the matter would never do. Thank goodness she had a lifetime of blithe responses at the ready.
“Oh, as long as there is a handsome man involved, I’m your gal.” Rose added a titter at the end of her statement that made her want to gag.
“It is verysecluded.” The earl turned the last word into a verbal caress.
Rose feigned a shiver of delight. “How intriguing, my lord.”
“I used it before the war for hunting and morepleasurablepursuits.”
Rose doubted that the earl would have been so bold as to drop a barely veiled innuendo in the presence of a proper, titled English miss. But Rose was an American and a notoriously wild one at that.
“The isle is very remote,” the man continued, “so no gossip ever leaves. That is why my father bought the land. Even if the servants wished to speak, there is no one for them to gossip with.”
“So Hamarray is not part of the entail?” Rose asked, an impolite question to be sure but not exactly unexpected from a title-hungry heiress. The earldidhave assets to sell, but he hadn’t, despite his perilous finances. Why were these islands so priceless to both him and his late son? Did Mar’s attachment to their remoteness have anything to do with concealing treason?
“No. It could easily be gifted to a favorite of mine, especially a much-beloved wife.”
