“Be that as it may, we would like for you to further your acquaintances with these gentlemen. Find a way into their studies, their libraries—”
“Find a way into their studies?” Was he mad? “Are you mad? Good Lord, I’d get myself caught or injured. I’ve no experience with that sort of thing.” Well, perhaps a very little. “There must be someone, anyone, who would better suit.”
Mr. Smith shook his head. “No one so much as you. You are, for all intents and purposes, new to London, without known sympathies or loyalties. That, combined with your rank as a viscount’s daughter, means no ballroom or parlor will be closed to you. There is also the matter of your possessing some unusual skills, courtesy of your Mr. Wang, I believe. Lock picking, knife throwing, some form of eastern combat—”
“I’m only a novice,” she interrupted. Mostly.
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “There is also the fact that we, Miss Everton, have something you need— money.”
She stared at him in bafflement, unsure of how to respond to that outrageous statement. Did he honestly believe she was greedy enough to quite literally jump through windows for a few coins? Perhaps he wasn’t mad quite so much as dull-witted. Maybe if she spoke slowly and very carefully…“I understand my family’s finances are less stable than they have been in the past, but I have every faith that will turn about. And we’re hardly impoverished—”
“Your father’s coffers are very nearly empty. He stands to lose Whitefield within six months, a year at best.”
Sophie was stunned into speechlessness, a rare and unpleasant occurrence for her. After much mental groping she managed, and then only poorly, “I…we…you must be mistaken.”
“There’s no point in my exaggerating the case, is there? You’d find out the truth as soon as you reached London. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but we are in a position to help you. We are offering a considerable sum.”
For a dull-witted madman, Mr. Smith was annoyingly sensible.
Dear God, why was she only now hearing of this? And from a stranger? In his last letter, her cousin had mentioned a few minor difficulties with the estate, but nothing she “need worry over.”
Taking him at his word, she’d made plans to travel halfway across the world to indulge in an expensive London season. How mortifyingly stupid.
And now they stood to lose Whitefield. Though it had long been the family home and the only consistently profitable estate, it wasn’t entailed. Whitefield could be sold, taken, lost. The means of their survival and the home of her lost mother and sister…gone.
Unacceptable.
Straightening her shoulders, Sophie turned to give Mr. Smith her best businesslike stare.
“You are not directly interested in any member of my family, is that correct?”
“It is.”
“How much?” she asked coolly.
“I’m sorry?”
“How much money are you willing to offer for my ser vices?”
“Ah, right. Well, upon arrival, you’ll be given access to a small sum available through a solicitor, pin money as it were. You’ll also have an open account at all the best shops in London. You’ll be able to purchase any necessary items associated with a young lady’s first season in London. Upon completion of the mission, you shall receive fifteen thousand. Well invested, it should be enough to restore your family’s financial security.”
Sophie glanced at the envelope. “And if they’re innocent? Will I still receive the money, or is payment contingent upon finding proof of guilt?”
“If you find no proof, you’ll receive five thousand pounds, a third of the original fee.”
Sophie shook her head. “Half,” she insisted, “of twenty-five thousand.”
“Half,” Mr. Smith countered, “of twenty thousand. That is as high an offer as I am authorized to give.”
Sophie thought hard.
But not too long.
“Explain then, please, exactly what I have to do.”
“You want me to seduce a virgin? Have you gone mad?”
Alexander Durmant, the Duke of Rockeforte, looked thoroughly disgusted. Slouched miserably in a chair by the fire and not so much sipping as gulping his brandy, His Grace looked ready to whimper.
Across from him, William Fletcher smiled pleasantly. It occurred to William that he might be smiling just a hair more pleasantly than was strictly necessary under the circumstances, but as head of England’s vast and currently very active War Department, William found it expedient to obtain his amusements when and where he could.
And, holy hell, but this was going to be amusing.
“I don’t recall having mentioned the word ‘seduce,’” he replied congenially. “Nor ‘virgin’ for that matter, although I’ve no reason to believe she isn’t. Your task is simply to keep close to the girl.”