Malloryn's gaze locked on her. "Any reason you have a seeming vendetta against the man?"
"Nothing you ought to know."
He'd made it clear he was interested in tracking down the blue blood nobleman who'd assaulted her the night she'd forced him into a proposal, but Corvus wasn't the sort of man one crossed.
Not even Malloryn?
For a second she was tempted to tell him the truth. But he was dealing with enough mischief as it was. And Devoncourt, Balfour, even her father, were more important than handing a set down to the vile miscreant who'd stalked her through the Echelon.
She had to tell herself that twice.
"Adele," Malloryn warned.
"He's courting my sister. I don't trust him. Is that not reason enough?"
"Corvus is precisely the sort of character who's at the top of our list of Rising Sons." From the glint in Miss Townsend's eyes, she hadn't missed the faint flicker of distress on Adele's face. "He has a liking for pretty, innocent young girls. I could lure him somewhere private. See if he has anything of interest to say."
"He's dangerous," Adele warned. "At least as dangerous as Devoncourt, I would think."
"So am I, Your Grace. I can see to it that he'll never bother your sister again."
"Not yet." Malloryn tapped the invitation against his thigh. "This appears to be a private salon. If we can get an agent inside, we may be able to learn more about the Rising Sons."
"You've tried twice," Miss Townsend reminded him.
"Yes, but we never had an invite."
Adele plucked the invite from his fingers. "And you don't have one now. This has my name on it."
"Mask required," he pointed out. "All I need is a pretty little blonde, and I can get my hands on one of them with a click of my fingers. I have dozens of pretty little blondes at my beck and call."
Adele was taken aback.
Miss Townsend's eyes widened. "You're all charm. Remind me how you thought you were going to seduce your wife again?"
"By lying to me." Adele smothered the brief flash of hurt in her breast. "That's how he did it. He minced some rather pretty words several days ago. I think I prefer this sort of brutal honesty. At least I can trust it."
"I wasn't referring to personally putting my hands on—"
"I would quit while you're ahead," Adele said icily.
Malloryn's gaze promised retribution.
"I can find a female agent in one of my networks," he stated slowly, "who resembles you."
"There's one little problem with your plan," she said. "I was invited. You were not. If you send someone in using my invite and they're discovered, Devoncourt will know I'm working against him. Right now he trusts me. He thinks he's going to twist me around his little finger. The second your agent opens her mouth he'll know she's not me. And he'll know you're onto him."
"Unfortunately," Miss Townsend said with a beatific smile, "your wife speaks the truth."
"Since when are you in Adele's corner?"
Miss Townsend linked her arm through Adele's elbow. "Since she married you, Malloryn. Someone has to bring you down a peg or two. And I'm enjoying every moment of it."
He stared at the pair of them for long seconds, and then shook his head. "Fine. But if you enter that gaming club, you're not going alone. And you will obey every instruction I give you, or I'll rip that cursed invitation into little pieces and toss it in the Thames. Along with the pair of you."
Miss Townsend gave an amused huff as he stalked away. "Well, someone certainly has his britches in a twist. I wonder who it could be?"
And she gave Adele a disconcerting wink.
Malloryn smuggled Adele into the safe house later that night—in a trunk.
In all her dreams of being involved in the conspiracy, it wasn't what she'd expected, but as he guided her up the stairs into the private dining room that had been converted to some sort of briefing chambers, she couldn't help feeling breathless with excitement.
It wasn't so much being a part of this—she wasn't stupid enough to relish the danger she faced.
But it made her feel useful. Wanted.
And the fact her husband was taking her seriously softened any sorts of feelings she might have had about that "I have dozens of pretty little blondes at my beck and call" comment.
"Adele, you've met the rest of the Company of Rogues at various times," Malloryn said, gesturing to the eleven strangers who were seated around the table. "And it appears everyone here is aware of my wife's identity, considering the vast interest we've all taken in her ever since the wedding was announced."
That was definitely sarcasm.
Adele shot him a sideways glance. "Vast interest?"
"A delight, Your Grace," said a tall, handsome blond youth who seemed of an age with her. "The duke's referring to what happens when a company of spies discovers their leader is getting married. I'm Charlie Todd. I brought you brandy the other day."
"Oh, yes. He of the inferior set of glassware."
Charlie darted a glance toward Malloryn. "Should I know what that means? What's wrong with my glassware?"
"You don't have any glassware," said the young woman at his side.
"To your left is Obsidian," the duke continued, "then Kincaid, Ava, Byrnes, Ingrid, Lark, Jack, and you'll recall my butler and chief of security, Herbert. You made quite an impression upon him the last you met."
The twinkle in his eyes made her want to stomp upon his foot.
"I'm terribly sorry, sir," she said to the impeccable butler. "I was somewhat out of sorts the other day when I accosted you."
The butler tilted his head toward her. "Quite all right, Your Grace. The duke has a habit of putting anyone out of sorts on the best of days."
"It's lovely to meet you," said Byrnes, in the sort of voice she immediately found suspect. "Officially."
His face seemed familiar. "You were at my engagement party."