“We have gone off topic.”
“Seems on topic to me.” And she rather liked it. She didn’t much care for being on the defensive end of a disagreement. “And I did hear you conspiring with Lady Thurston and Mr. Fletcher to find me a husband. As well as Mr. Fletcher conspiring to send me a threatening letter. For heaven’s sake, what are the odds of a fabricated threat and a legitimate one being simultaneously considered?”
“I grant you, they are slim.”
“Exactly. What was I—”
“However,” Mrs. Summers cut in, “the coincidence would not have saved your life, had your assailant been a better shot.”
Evie winced. “No, it would not have.”
Mrs. Summers sighed. “I do not condone eavesdropping, Evie. However, if one is going to indulge, one ought to make an effort to do it properly—or at least thoroughly. Clearly, you were not privy to the whole conversation.”
“Apparently not,” Evie muttered.
“Lady Thurston and I took immediate opposition to Mr. Fletcher’s tactics. You were to be introduced to the gentleman through one of the members of your group.”
“How?” Evie asked with a small start. “None of the women know who I am. I certainly don’t know who any of them are.”
“Lady Thurston and I do.”
“You…How…Why…”
“Did you really think your aunt would not only allow, but encourage your participation in an organization with which she was not familiar? Lady Penelope, I was informed, gave a detailed accounting of the group’s members.”
“Lady Penelope knew who all the members were? And she told?”
“Yes, on both accounts. She knew because she was responsible for the organization’s conception. Even a secret organization requires a founder and leader, and one cannot lead without being fully aware of who is following.”
“No,” Evie replied thoughtfully. “I suppose not.”
“And she told because she trusted your aunt and it was a prerequisite for your participation.”
“Oh. Well.” That made sense, and using her work as a means to finding her a match was quite clever, actually. She’d have been interested—academically, at least—in any man who actively took up the cause.
Mrs. Summers tilted her head at her. “Who on earth did you think we’d chosen for you? You’ve nothing in common with any of the gentlemen in residence.”
“I…”…have more than enough in common with McAlistair, she wanted to say, but now wasn’t the time. She wasn’t sure that time would ever arrive. “That puzzle did give me some trouble, I’ll admit. Who was I to meet?”
“Sir Reginald Napertin.”
She went still, blinked, and wracked her brain. All for naught. “Who the devil is Reginald Napertin?”
Mrs. Summers tutted at Evie’s language. “Sir Reginald Napertin is a very nice gentleman recently returned from the Continent. He was knighted as an officer for his service to the Crown.”
“A war hero?”
“He was injured saving his commanding officer and several of his subordinates. He nearly lost his leg.”
Evie tried to picture herself on the arm of such a man and found she could only envision the three-legged races of which she’d been fond as a girl. “Between the two of us, we’d have managed a whole set of legs.”
“That is not amusing.”
It certainly was, particularly when paired with the vision of the two of them riding Rose without her shoe, but Evie had long ago realized that those who loved her were sometimes even more sensitive about her infirmity than she was. “If he’s the sort to take offense at it, then I suspect we wouldn’t have suited.”
“I never said he would take offense. I said it was not amusing. At any rate, you may discover the sort of man he is when the rest of this dreadful business is dealt with.”
Evie opened her mouth, then closed it. There was no sense in arguing.
“Well,” Mrs. Summers said with a bracing breath, “I am most relieved to have that misunderstanding cleared up. No doubt the others will be similarly reassured when you explain—”
“The others?” Explain? To Christian, and Mr. Hunter? “Couldn’t we just—”
“No. They have done a great deal on your behalf and are likely wondering not only why their efforts to keep you safe were nearly undone by your own carelessness, but if it is likely to happen again.”
“But the secrets I’d have to reveal wouldn’t only be my own.” And even if they were, she’d have undergone every torture known to man before she had a conversation with Christian and Mr. Hunter similar to one she was having with Mrs. Summers.
They were discussing matchmaking, for heaven’s sake.
“Certainly an apology is in order,” she continued. “And I mean to offer one, but an explanation would—”
Mrs. Summers waved her hand. “An apology will suffice.” She stood and brushed her skirts. “I believe Christian returned with food from the inn. I shall see the table set.”