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“I will concede that you have a point.”

“The same goes for a stiletto or any other knife. I don’t care how ingenious your plans are for outfitting a gown with secret pockets.”

The idea of her, an untrained recruit, using a weapon terrified him. Even having it on her might embolden her to use it, and he knew from experience that inexpert men and women usually did more damage to themselves than good in a fight. He wasn’t going to risk having her blood on his hands.

“What am I supposed to do then if the work becomes dangerous?” she asked.

“My responsibility as your handler is to make sure you never have to ask that question.”

“Hmph.” She crossed her arms and sat back but—mercifully—didn’t push back this time.

“How are you going to establish contact with Wark? It’s best if it’s in a public place,” he said.

“It’ll have to be his home.”

“Absolutely not.” That was exactly the wrong sort of place for her to meet Wark. If she was inside a private home, he’d have no way of keeping an eye on her. A public place would be far better.

“His mother has a fitting on Friday, and he’s sure to be there. He’s always there,” she said, pulling a face.

“Rearrange for it to be in the shop,” he said.

“No.” Her tone was firm, brooking no argument. “My head seamstress, Siobhan, has all the fitting rooms booked for other clients. If I change my plans to fit Mrs. Wark, it will throw everything into chaos. This morning in the park alone is costing me time on three dresses’ worth of buttonholes, and with the prince’s visit coming up, time is a valuable commodity.”

“That bloody ball.” Andrew screwed up his face. “Why all the effort for one night, I’ll never understand.”

“It’s not just the ball. It’s everything else around the ball too, and no lady of fashion wants to be caught out wearing an old dress,” she said with a shrug.

“The world is mad,” he said.

“And I suppose you would prefer sun-bleached linens patched so many times the fabric will rend in two if you just look at it the wrong way,” she said.

“At least that would be comfortable,” he said, rolling his shoulders under the tight confines of his jacket. Once they were out of port, he’d always preferred to shed the formality of shore clothes, keeping to his shirtsleeves and waistcoat unless they were sailing through the bitter-cold waters of the North Sea or the Atlantic in winter.

“Do you know, I never would’ve taken you as the sort of man who lets his clothes wear him,” she said.

“Don’t try to goad me, Lavinia,” he said.

She laughed and rose from the bench with a rustle of her purple skirt. “For all that you were a seafaring man and commanded men on a ship, you forget one thing.”

“What is that?” he asked, towering over her now that he too was standing.

“I always won our childhood arguments.”

“Only because you managed to make yourself incredibly annoying,” he said, a smile tipping his lips despite himself.

She shook her head. “It was because you have too much honor for your own good. I’ll send word after I speak to Wark on Friday.”

His hand shot out, landing on her wrist before he could think what he was doing. Heat rushed through him, and he became acutely aware of her parted lips, the quicker-than-normal breaths she took, and the throb of a low, aching desire he’d told himself for years to forget.

“Be careful,” he said.

She cast her eyes down to where his hand touched hers. He was wearing gloves, and her long sleeves covered her from shoulder to wrist with nary a peep of skin, but every touch still fired in him a deep connection they’d both left behind long ago. And he knew that she could feel it too.

“I refuse to be the asset who ruined her first encounter with her target. I’ll be careful,” she said.

Slowly, he released his grip, chastened by her determination but not knowing exactly why.

Dammit, he wanted to be there to assess the way Wark was with her, and it would drive him mad knowing she’d be on her own. He could tell himself his worry was rooted in the success of the mission all he liked, but that would be a lie. He wanted to be there because, despite everything she’d done, he couldn’t lose the flash of the old protectiveness he’d once felt for her.