“What?” Clayton asked, excitement in his voice. The viscount leaned forward as if to glance at the letter’s contents. “What is it?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t tell you.” Beau let both the letter and his hand drop to his side.
Beau stalked over to the window. He scanned the page again to ensure he’d read it correctly. In a hundred years, he wouldn’t have guessed this. Not in a thousand years, actually. He read it for a third time. The words weren’t changing. It said precisely what he’d thought it said the first two times.
“My apologies, Clayton. I must go.” Beau turned and brushed past the viscount on his way out the door.
Once in the hallway, Beau glanced both ways. There was no more debate. Where was she? He had to find Marianne immediately.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Marianne remained scarce the rest of the day. She desperately needed to speak with Beau, but she intended to wait until they had complete privacy and the cover of darkness.
She’d spent most of the day in the antechamber of Lady Wilhelmina’s room, mending some undergarments. She’d chosen the location mostly because Beau would never be able to look for her there.
It had been a success. She didn’t arrive back to her bedchamber until after Lady Wilhelmina had returned from dinner. Marianne had helped the young woman change into her night rail before stealing back up to her own bedchamber on the fourth floor. Even then, she waited another hour before she moved quietly out into the corridor, down to Beau’s room.
He answered the knock nearly immediately, as if he was waiting for someone.
His jaw was tight and his face was blank. Most tellingly, he didn’t say a word. He merely stepped back and opened the door wide enough for her to enter. She remained silent as well as she stepped inside. She waited for him to close the door behind her before she turned to him.
“Beau, I—”
“I assume you received a letter, too?” His voice was clipped, entirely devoid of emotion.
Very well. If he was going to be this way, so would she.
“I did,” she answered curtly, careful to remove emotion from her voice too.
Beau stalked over to the small desk in front of his window and grabbed his letter.
“Didn’t burn yours, I see,” she said.
“No. I didn’t. Do you have yours?” His face remained blank. He was beginning to alarm her.
She pulled from her apron pocket the letter she’d been carrying all day. “Yes, I have it.”
“Well, I suppose you won’t read yours to me until I read mine to you?” His voice was harsh.
“Why don’t we trade them?” she offered.
“Ah, excellent. That way we’ll both know we aren’t lying…for once.”
She tentatively held out her letter to him and he handed her his.
They both accepted each other’s letters and read them quickly.
Marianne closed her eyes. Beau’s letter said the exact same thing hers had.
Agent B,
By now you must realize that we have two operatives at the Clayton house party. You must work with Agent M to bring the Bidassoa traitor to justice. Your orders are to return with the family to Lord Copperpot’s estate and await further instruction while continuing to investigate. Good luck.
G
Beau wasthe first to speak. “You’re Agent M.”
Marianne nodded. “You’re Agent B.”
