James came to stand beside her. “Where?”
“In the ledger. Not all of them, but enough.” She touched one line, then another. “They were not entered as the other merchants were. They were tied to separate, coded entries.”
Westmarch’s features darkened as he studied the list. “Not merchants or informants, then.”
James’s voice lowered. “Agents. And if there are twelve principal aliases, perhaps the men directing it.”
The parchment seemed to darken before him. It was all connected. Every piece he had been chasing tied back to one thing. The Arcadian Circle.
Then he remembered the date. “Henry’s list also pointed to one other thing.” James tapped his finger on the page. “The twenty-second of February.”
Westmarch stiffened. “The Privy Council.”
“Precisely,” James said, his mind already calculating the risks. “The Regent has only just gained the full power to rule in his father’s place, and the government is already unsteady. Even one death at that council meeting, in a room filled with senior ministers, parliamentary figures, and men close to the Crown, would send panic through every government office.”
“You should have told me this sooner.” Westmarch had gone pale.
James’s jaw clenched. “Like you, I wasn’t certain what any of this meant until this moment. And you were not available to be told.”
“We need a plan,” Westmarch said. “And there is something you do not know.”
Of course there was more. James forced the rest of his questions aside and asked the one that needed answering first. “And why are you telling me all of this?” he asked, challenging him. “You ordered me to find stability. Unless your definition has changed, I have not met the condition yet.”
Westmarch’s shrewd gaze traveled between them. “It may not be official yet, but I am not blind. You have made progress toward the steadiness I required of you. So yes, James, your standing is restored.”
James stilled. Beside him, Kate did the same. She had heard the implication, even if she didn’t fully understand it. Westmarch’s answer had made the secret impossible to ignore. In challenging Westmarch, James had exposed something he should have told Kate himself. He would explain at the first chance they had to speak alone. He had delayed too long already.
“Besides,” said Westmarch, “I no longer have the luxury of waiting for perfect circumstances. This threat has outpaced my old condition. So I will set a new one. You will not work alone. Either of you.”
“What precisely does that mean?” James asked.
“It means,” Westmarch said, “that the joint efforts you have already set in motion will continue. Your abilities complement each other well, and perhaps you can each keep the other from doing something reckless. No more separate risks. No more private investigations. If you proceed, you proceed together.”
Together.
“Do not mistake me, Lady Katherine. I have guarded your identity too carefully to become careless with it now. But you are already in this, and we will need your expertise. The two of you working together gives me another safeguard for you both.”
“You are asking us to trust each other,” James said, keenly aware that Kate did not yet know how much of her truth he had guessed or how much of his own he still withheld.
“It seems like you already do, but perhaps I have misunderstood the situation,” Westmarch said. He allowed the remark to settle. When neither of them spoke to contradict him, he appeared satisfied.
“Good,” Westmarch said decisively, as though his word alone resolved the matter. He gestured toward the sofa. James and Kate returned to their seats while Westmarch took the chair opposite them. “In that case, there is one more threat Fletcher revealed before he died.”
James leaned forward.
“The Arcadian Circle is planning an assassination at the Royal Philanthropic Society Charity Ball.”
A log shifted in the hearth, sending a shower of sparks upward with a hiss.
The room seemed to tilt beneath him. “Who is the target?”
“He did not know.” Westmarch rubbed his jaw. “But that ball would place several possible targets in one room. Treasury, Admiralty, the Foreign Office, senior military men, Members of Parliament, and enough titled guests to make a public death serve their purpose.”
“The target could be anyone, then,” James said.
“Which is precisely why they chose it,” Westmarch concluded.
“When is the ball?” James asked.
