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“Perhaps no man ever thought you would say yes.”

She paused, then inhaled a deep breath. “They would have been correct,” she said lightly.

Nate hesitated, too. Did that mean she would still say no to any proposal of marriage? Or just that she never would have married any man she met before? Some women, he knew, did not want to be married. To be married meant they belonged to their husbands, with no property of their own, always subject to another’s decree. If any woman would chafe at being subordinated to a man, it would be Angelique Martand.

Well, if she were opposed to marriage, Nate could go without it. Marriage was just a piece of paper, after all. He wanted her, any way she would have him.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Shall we walk on?” she asked, and he realized he had hesitated too long. She was already strolling down the path again, and he hurried to keep up. What he wouldn’t give to know what she was thinking. Her expression was serene, and she might have been any lady out for a walk. In her pale green dress she was lovelier than any other woman he’d ever seen, her hand so dainty and light on his sleeve in her white kid glove. He cursed his hesitation. If he’d been just a moment quicker, he might have prolonged the conversation along the vein he was growing unbearably interested in, but now the moment had passed.

They came to the Mall and turned back toward the City. Angelique’s parasol snagged a tree root and clattered to the ground. With a muffled sigh, she stooped to retrieve it before Nate could, and they walked on as before.

Or rather, almost as before. Nate felt as if the wind had suddenly switched directions. She had been relaxed and easy a moment ago, and now she wasn’t. He could sense the change in her, even though her hand never flinched on his arm, and when he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, her expression was as serene as it had been.

“What did you see?” he asked on impulse.

She raised her eyebrows at him. “What do you mean?”

“You changed,” he said evenly. “You saw something, or someone, who made you drop your parasol. Or else you dropped it on purpose to take a closer look at something that caught your attention.”

She looked at him for a long moment, although not a flicker of surprise or alarm crossed her face. Finally she turned her head, facing forward again. “Ian is here.”

It took him a moment to place the name. Unexpected dislike stirred in his chest. “Sent by Stafford, I presume.”

She smiled and answered as lightly as if he had said it was a lovely day. “Oui.”

Nate didn’t let himself look back. He had no idea what the unknown Ian looked like, after all. But he did remember her telling Stafford to send the man after Dixon originally, that first day in the Bow Street offices. She had implied Ian was rough and dangerous, not the sort of fellow to be sent on a task of any subtlety. At the time, Stafford had disagreed with her and refused to send Ian. So what did it mean that he was now here?

Stafford must be getting impatient with their progress. He might have sent the man to spur things along, or to keep an eye on them. Nate felt the light pressure of Angelique’s hand on his arm and a whisper of alarm went through him. Somehow he doubted the English spymaster would be pleased by what was happening between the two of them. Could Ian have been sent to remind Angelique of her true loyalty?

“I don’t suppose he could simply be enjoying the fine day, and we passed him by coincidence.”

“I would not think so, no. Not from the way he winked at me.”

The dislike in Nate’s heart congealed into animosity—and dread. “We’ll be seeing him soon, then.”

“Too soon,” she agreed, very quietly.

That, more than anything, set off alarm bells in his head. “Why too soon?” he murmured, barely moving his lips.

She hesitated. “We have not yet found our man.”

The alarm bells rang louder. That hadn’t been her only reason. But he looked at her placid face, and suddenly didn’t want to know. The very fact that Angelique was worried was unsettling enough.

The added fact that she was lying to him about it terrified him.

* * *

It took all of Angelique’s discipline to remain calm and composed during the walk home. Nate sensed her disquiet—she could hardly hide anything from him, it seemed—and lapsed into silence as they walked. That was disquieting, too, but at least it gave her a moment to address her own rioting thoughts. Like a fool, she’d let herself ignore the looming conflict between her intentions and Nate’s for too long, and now she must confront it quickly.

Ian was here. That meant Stafford was here, effectively. Normally it would be merely an irritant, smoothed over by sending a report to Bow Street and getting on with the work. But in this instance, it unnerved her. They had hardly been dragging their feet. That first meeting in Stafford’s office wasn’t even a month ago. Why such haste? There was still nothing to report, or she would have done so.

Of course, something had happened. She told herself it was none of Stafford’s concern whom she took to bed. She told herself it hadn’t interfered in her work in any way. She told herself their affair was too new, too discreet to have come to Stafford’s notice… yet. Lisette, and perhaps Mr. Chesterfield, were the only souls who knew, and Lisette in particular would sooner cut out her own tongue than tell Stafford anything.

Angelique told herself he wouldn’t care even if he did know. Hadn’t he himself told her to seduce Nate if that’s what it took to keep him quiescent? Stafford didn’t need to know there were any other reasons involved, certainly not any that might signal her allegiance was wavering.

More and more she regretted taking this job, even as she was coming to crave being with Nate. If she’d simply refused to appear when Stafford’s note first came, she wouldn’t be caught in this dilemma between following her orders and betraying a man she was beginning to care for a great deal. Nate still thought he would be carrying Dixon back to New York. Stafford still thought Angelique was going to prevent that by slicing Dixon’s throat.