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Angelique studied him. His eyes were so clear and green, as deep as the ocean. None of the shock and anger of earlier remained. He had heard her confession, absorbed it, and now was focused on the more pressing task they must face—together. For a moment she could hardly breathe, from the force of hope and relief.

“Will Dixon cooperate with that?” she said, trying to keep up with Nate even though she wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him once more, for just a moment, and hold him to her in gratitude and joy that he was still there, working with her. It might not be complete forgiveness, but it was better than disgust and rejection.

“His other choices aren’t very appealing. He’s scared witless of you, for some reason.” She gave an involuntary smile, and Nate grinned. “But I’m not,” he added in a soft whisper. “Not at all.” He took her hand and bent his head, seemingly absorbed in tracing every contour of her fingers with his thumb. “You must know I care for you.”

Her fingers trembled in his grasp. “I am glad,” she murmured. It was inadequate to what she really felt, but what more could she say? His was not a declaration of love or devotion. She wasn’t even sure how she would react to one of those, if he were to make it. “I care for you as well.”

She caught just a corner of his smile at that. He now held her hands in both of his, gently and reverently. It made her feel peaceful and contented. But she was unprepared for the determination blazing in his eyes when he finally raised his head and looked at her. “Do you intend to continue working with Stafford after this?” he asked.

She was shaking her head before he even finished speaking. “No. I knew before we began that this would be my last assignment.” Nate said nothing. His unflinching gaze loosened her tongue. “He has lied to me and to other agents, men I respected and trusted. Because of him, two of them were almost killed. It makes me sick to think of the part I played in those circumstances, unwitting but direct.” She sniffed as some of her ire at Stafford returned. “I came to him thinking I was making a noble sacrifice, for peace and justice. No doubt some of that was gained, but at what cost? I have slept easily because it was the wicked and amoral we targeted. Now I am not sure, and I will not risk a mistake.”

“That’s why you didn’t just kill Dixon.”

“No.” She grimaced. “It is a great and terrible price to pay, to be killed. Always I have tried to make certain there was no hope of dissuading a man from his wicked intent. Always I have tried to be certain he deserved it. This is the first time I have doubted, but it is not why I am done with Stafford.” She drew in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “I am tired. My life has not been my own. I want to be free to do what I please, without the weight of his direction on my shoulders. I am tired of pretending to be what I am not. I am done lying.”

He gave a nod, a slight smile on his lips. “You are,” he said quietly. “Let us finish this business, and then…” He hesitated. “You could come to Boston.”

“To America?” she said in surprise, even as the idea took root and flourished. America, an ocean away from Stafford and her old life—and near Nate. “With you?”

He gave her that charming, crooked smile she loved so dearly. “That was my hope, but if you’d rather go with Prince…” She laughed out loud, and he shrugged, still grinning. “I wasn’t sure you’d prefer me to him but thought I should ask all the same.” He sobered. “Yes, with me.”

“To see the savages?” For some reason she found the idea fascinating.

He laughed. “If you like, my dear, although you won’t find them as savage as you think.”

“The unexpected can be very savage,” she said, although his humor had lifted her own. “I shall cling to your side at all times in fear.”

“I can’t see you cowering in fear of anything, but I’m very happy to have you cling to me.” He winked, and she laughed again. “So. We must try to discover Stafford’s true motive, keep Dixon quiet and his disappearance a secret, and make plans to leave England as soon as possible.”

Angelique’s amusement fled. They were going to defy Stafford, one way or another. He had let other agents walk away, but for his own reasons. Harry Sinclair married an earl’s daughter, elevating himself above Stafford’s reach. Alec Brandon proved himself innocent of the accusations of treason that had been attached to his name since Waterloo, and no longer needed Stafford’s protection.

But she… She was nobody. She had no relatives, no family, no circle of powerful friends to shield her from anything Stafford might do to her. She also carried more of his secrets than either Harry or Alec had, and she very much doubted he would just bid her a polite farewell if she said she was leaving, especially if she left without finishing Dixon. That would make him worry, about what she intended to do and how discreet she might be. John Stafford didn’t like loose ends, as she knew all too well. After all, she was the one who often tied them off for him.

Nate noticed her sudden tension. “What?” he asked, no longer teasing and smiling. “What’s wrong?”

“Stafford.” She sighed. “He will not let me walk away so easily. I am a danger to his secrets.”

“Right,” said Nate with that closed, focused look she had learned meant he was thinking hard.

“We could persuade him Dixon is dead. Then he may not be so upset to see me go.”

“Right,” said Nate again. “I don’t suppose he’ll be satisfied if you simply tell him it’s done.”

“He might,” she said slowly. “If you came along and made a great scene that I had done it against your wishes…”

“He’d discover the truth if the New York newspapers cover the trial, which they’re sure to do.”

“Yes,” she murmured. “He does not read the foreign papers, but Phipps might.”

“New York papers are no different than London ones,” Nate said. “They love a scandal, and they’ve been full of the story since the theft was discovered. But you’d be across the ocean by then.”

“Selwyn will fear what Dixon might say at his trial, and Stafford will know I lied to him.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Is America beyond their reach? I don’t know.”

Nate got to his feet and laid his hands on her shoulders until she looked up at him. “Let that question wait. We need to know if Dixon is spinning tales. If he’s lying about Selwyn, it alters the situation.” Not enough, thought Angelique with a pang. “How can we put his claims to the test?”

She dabbed a handkerchief to her eyes, then folded it in one hand. “I know only one person who moves in the same society as Selwyn and who won’t quibble about telling me. I shall ask Harry.”

Chapter Thirty