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“Unless you are in need of the privy, I shall see you in the dining room.”

He laughed, that same rumble that had caught her attention before. “The dining room it is, if I can’t persuade you to something more interesting.”

Angelique raised one brow. “What could be more interesting to a man than food, after a morning of moving house?”

“We obviously have a lot to learn about each other,” he told her.

She gave him a sardonic smile. “Indeed we do, and we shall. In the dining room.”

Downstairs, Lisette had laid out a spread of cold meats, some rolls, fresh strawberries, and a plate of biscuits. A pitcher of lemonade sat beside the strawberries, beaded with cool condensation. Angelique waited until her maid had left, closing the door behind her, before taking out her list.

“First we must decide how we are to be known,” she said.

He was filling a plate. “Mr. and Mrs. Avery should be sufficient.”

“There is nothing in that name that would alert Mr. Dixon of your interest in him?”

“Nothing more than usual. I’ve met him precisely twice, for a few moments. If he should happen to remember either occasion, I shall affect not to.”

“Twice!” She stared at him. “On this you have crossed an ocean and presented yourself as the only man who can apprehend him?”

“I have a good memory.” He winked at her, setting the plate in front of her. “Lemonade?”

She pursed her lips, but nodded. He caught sight of her list as he poured a glass. “Good Lord. Ought I to make notes, too?”

“You most certainly ought not. A man with a good memory will be able to recall everything, yes?”

This time he laughed as he heaped a plate for himself. “You’ll be there to remind me.” Before she could stop him, he had plucked the list off the table. “Cards,” he read aloud. “Introductions. Dressmaker.” He looked warily at her over the paper. “We need to discuss dressmakers?”

Angelique rolled her eyes and put out her hand. “We must order cards. We must get introductions. In short, we must announce ourselves to London if we are to be invited anywhere this fellow may be. Finding the proper dressmaker will be part of that.”

“I’ll find him,” Avery said, still reading her list as he ate. Angelique sighed and picked at her own plate. “That’s my task, isn’t it? The only reason I’m permitted to be here at all?” He glanced up at her. “But I’m not so certain of your job.”

She met his sharp green gaze for a long moment. “If you did not want Stafford’s help, why did you apply to him?” she asked, very softly. Lisette was under orders to keep the other servants away from the door, but one could never be too careful. “Did you really think he would just grant you leave to run about the country by yourself, abducting British citizens? He does not work thus, sir.”

Avery rested his arms on the table, leaning forward until their faces were mere inches apart. She noticed the lines that fanned out from the corners of his eyes, little wrinkles of laughter in his sun-worn face. He was a bit younger than she had thought, just more weathered than most Englishmen. “I applied to him because I was under orders not to simply snatch the thieving bastard off the street and drag him back to New York in chains—which,” he added with a significant look, “I was more than willing to do. Still am, if it comes to it.” He shrugged. “But if I can avoid causing a diplomatic uproar, it will make things easier at home. And that doesn’t answer my question about what you will be doing.”

She smiled slightly. “Helping you, of course.”

His lips quirked. He knew she was lying. “And mighty glad I am to have your help, love.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“We’re supposed to be married.” He grinned and handed back her list.

“Unhappily married,” she reminded him.

“Now, why is that?” he asked in reproach. “What came between us? Was it your cold and secretive manner, or all the women who throw themselves at me?”

“It is because you do not please me in bed.” She smiled sweetly at his startled expression. “It will explain why I must seek solace elsewhere.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” His eyes gleamed with mirth again. He was enjoying this tremendously, she realized—as was she, oddly enough. Perhaps it was the way he said, I’ll find him when she mentioned Dixon, as if he had no doubt of his ability to do so. Perhaps it was the carelessly ruthless way he expressed his intention to drag Dixon home in chains, as Angelique had told Stafford would be easiest. Perhaps it was just the way he was different today than he had been in Stafford’s office: sharper, harder, more focused. Somehow he didn’t seem quite so amateur now, even with the flirting and joking little attempts at discerning her role—although she had to admit, in his place she would do much the same. In fact, he put her in mind of Ian, who had always been her favorite agent to work with.

“You believed I was incompetent,” he said. Angelique blinked in surprise that he had read her thoughts, and he grinned wickedly. “In bed. Perhaps you thought I was…inexperienced. Unskilled. Naive, even. Ah, my poor wife, no wonder you’ve been so cold and reserved with me. It’s made us almost strangers to each other, hasn’t it? Such a pity.” He caught her hand from the table and lifted it to his lips. “Rest assured I shall do everything in my power to convince you of my…true talents. In bed and elsewhere.”

She let him fondle her hand. “Talent cannot replace experience. Even a prodigy needs persistent practice to become a master.”

He chuckled, running one fingertip down the sensitive side of her palm. “And it’s too late for me, is it? All my life until now has been a waste, if I cannot please you. I would only beg you to consider that we don’t know everything about each other yet. I may still surprise you.”