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“I do.” Lord Maidstone crossed to the fireplace and removed a folded paper from behind a candlestick. “It is sealed and ready for Monteagle.”

“Will it fit in that small cavity in Isla’s skirt?” Martha asked.

Lord Maidstone handed it to Isla. Under everyone’s watchful eyes, Isla slid it into the pocket and then turned to show them that it had disappeared.

“Remarkable,” Lord Maidstone said.

Martha clapped her hands. “That is perfect. Now, before we leave, we must devise a plan for the evening.”

Simon leaned a little closer to Isla. “Has she been issuing commands all day?” he whispered.

Isla shook her head. “She’s been marvelous. Without her, I may not have been brave enough to rise from my bed.” She met his eyes. “I missed our morning ride.”

His expression softened. “As did I.”

Isla pressed her hand to her bodice, wishing the fluttering internal butterflies away. No matter how much she enjoyed being with Simon or how handsome he looked this evening, she needed to remember that their time together was limited. Like Lord Maidstone and Martha, he was attending Lord Monteagle’s dinner for the greater cause.

“Isla,” Martha said, “would you tell us what you recall about this evening’s events once more?”

“Of course.” Isla pushed aside her muddled thoughts to focus on those few details. “When one of Lord Monteagle’s servants leaves the house to take some air, he will be handed a letter by a stranger. The stranger will request that he take it to his master immediately. Lord Monteagle will be at the table, his hands sticky, and so he will request that the servant read the missive aloud. All in attendance will hear, and its contents will fuel a discussion that ultimately leads Lord Monteagle to take the note to Cecil.”

“How long should we wait before we act?” Lord Maidstone asked.

Martha appeared thoughtful. “I would surmise that the Monteagles will serve at least six courses. If the servant has not produced a letter by the end of the fourth course, I believe it would be wise to delay no longer.”

“I shall escape the room to deliver the letter,” Simon said.

“You cannot, Simon,” Isla said. “None of you can. It has to be me. I am the only one who would be a stranger to the servant.”

“You will not be a stranger if he sees you enter the house to attend the party,” he said.

“Do you have an old cloak I may borrow, Lord Maidstone?” she asked.

“Why, yes,” the gentleman responded, clearly startled at the sudden change in topic. “Although, I fear it will be far too large.”

“All the better,” Isla said. “If we take an extra cloak and hide it somewhere near the door, I can don it upon exiting. An oversized hood will hide my face, and I can also draw heavily on my Yorkshire accent when called upon to speak.” After a few sleepless nights, it was the best idea she’d come up with.

“How do you hope to explain leaving the table?” Simon asked.

“I will remain as quiet and inconspicuous as possible during the meal. It is quite possible that I shall leave and return without anyone noticing.”

“Dressed as you are this evening,” Simon said, “that is highly improbable. The eyes of every gentleman in the room will be upon you from the moment you walk in.”

Isla experienced a moment of panic. She hoped he was joking. “I am attending as your betrothed. As far as everyone else knows, I am spoken for, and no one need engage me in conversation.”

Simon ran his fingers through his hair, appearing unconvinced. “A pleasant thought, to be sure, but unlikely to occur.”

“Even if Isla’s absence is noted,” Martha said, “no one would suspect Lord Bancroft’s betrothed of being outside in the dark on her own.”

“For the simple reason that she should not be,” Simon muttered.

Isla attempted a reassuring smile. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“The dark is not what worries me,” he said.

“Come, now, Bancroft,” Lord Maidstone said. “Monteagle lives in an affluent area of town. Footpads will not be lurking at his doorway.” He must have taken Simon’s lack of disagreement as a good sign because he continued. “It may be that the all-important letter arrives without our involvement. We shall hope for that. But if not, I believe it must be Miss Crawford who delivers it.”

Simon glared at his brother-in-law. “Why would you send a young lady on an errand such as that?”