It was to be noted, however, that her father was not currently onboard the ship that would, in two hours’ time, deliver his daughter to English soil for her first visit in nearly twelve years.
This man of the kind eyes and unfortunate hair had been a complete stranger until five minutes ago.
And a very strange five minutes it had been, she mused. She’d snuck out from under the nose of her much loved, but often exhausting, chaperone in the hope of finding a moment of solitude. Before she’d had the chance to so much as fully settle herself comfortably on a bench, this odd little man had sat down and pressed a letter into her hand. A letter bearing the seal of the Prince Regent. Then he’d gone on to introduce himself as Mr. Smith and asked her, in the name of the Crown, to please accept a mission of colossal national import. To which she now replied:
“Hmm.”
Mr. Smith waited patiently for additional comment. When none appeared forthcoming, he tugged at his wrinkled waistcoat and narrowed his wrinkled eyes.
“I say, Miss Everton,” he began, “you seem to be taking this all rather well. I hardly expected a swoon, mind you, or some sort of fit, but I find myself surprised you’re not a bit more…well…”
“Surprised?” she offered helpfully.
“Rather.”
Sophie cocked her head in interest. “You must have done some research into my background before approaching me,” she pointed out reasonably.
“As it happens, I did hear a great many stories about you,” Mr. Smith chuckled. “They were so unlikely, however, that I attributed them to someone’s overzealous imagination.”
“It’s possible they were,” she conceded, “but the truth has proved interesting enough in the past to negate the necessity of dramatic embellishments.”
He gave her a humoring smile. “Really? Were you truly cornered just last year in an open-air market by a Bengal tiger?”
It was Sophie’s turn to laugh. People rarely believed the tales of her adventures, but she did so enjoy telling them. There was a curious sense of satisfaction to be obtained from their reactions, which generally ranged from delighted to horrified. Never was there a doubt, however, that the listener was entertained.
“Oh, yes,” she replied with no small amount of relish. “And if you had any desire to see me surprised, you should have been there. After Mr. Wang distracted the beast with some raw meat and a great deal of noise, I indulged in a rather embarrassing display of hysterics. Have you ever seen a tiger, sir?” she inquired. “They really are enormous.”
Mr. Smith blinked rapidly for a few moments—which she found gratifying—then coughed and peered at her as if he had just noticed something that intrigued him.
“Do you know,” he said finally, relaxing his gaze and actually smiling at her, “I rather think you’re perfect for this mission. You should do quite well. Quite well indeed.”
“Well,” she responded, suddenly feeling a little lost. “I’m happy to have your good opinion of course, but I must remind you that I have absolutely no idea what this mission entails or whether I shall agree to undertake it.”
Mr. Smith patted her hand congenially. “Nothing to it, my dear. Nothing to it. You will, I presume, be residing at your cousin’s town house upon arrival?”
“It’s my town house, actually, but yes, I will be residing there with Lord Loudor.”
“Excellent. Excellent. And are you very well acquainted with His Lordship?”
Sophie narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “We’ve kept up a fairly regular correspondence. He’s been responsible for the management of my father’s estate since we left England.”
“Indeed. You’ll be reviewing his ledgers when you arrive, no doubt. Well, try not to put him off, if you can help it. Lord Loudor has a wide circle of friends and acquaintances. He’s rather popular amongst the ton. In particular, with a select group of gentlemen who garner no respect from me or my employer”—he motioned to the envelope—“and with whom we would like you to develop a better acquaintance.”
“You want me to spy on my family?”
If the gentleman had been hoping earlier for surprised outrage, he was no longer disappointed.
“Miss Everton,” he drawled with exaggerated courtesy. “The king, as you well know, is mad. Napoleon is ever at our gates, and two-thirds of our army is at his. England, at present, is in a most insecure state, threatened from inside our borders—”
“From my cousin?” she demanded.
“Actually, Loudor is not currently a suspect. He simply has the misfortune of naming several unsavory gentlemen among his friends.”
Sophie blew out a long breath and made a conscious effort to ease the grip she’d had on the folds of her skirt. “That’s not misfortune, that’s poor judgment,” she grumbled.