Free Touch of Rogue by Mia Marlowe

nothing better than to aid you, but the rules of my Order constrain me. To be honest, Lady Cambourne, the lore of the Druids is forbidden to the gentle sex.”
    If she was offended, she hid it well. Her smile was intoxicating. “Oh, I quite understand, Lord Digory, but surely a man of your considerable enlightenment is aware of the changes in our modern society concerning what’s appropriate for my gender.” She leaned toward him, and Digory seemed to melt a bit. “Why, a petition was even lodged in the House of Lords urging that august body to grant universal suffrage for women—”
    “Eight years ago and nothing has been done with the petition to date,” Malcolm said stonily. If she wanted information about the daggers, he’d make sure she had to come to him.
    She flicked her gaze toward him, barely concealing her annoyance over his statement of the obvious. Proud, intelligent, and blithely unaware how powerless she really was.
    How lovely it will be to humble her, to teach her the way of things and make her beg in quivering need.
    “Lord Digory, in view of the unique nature of the artifacts in my possession, surely you’d make an exception just this once. If we might be able to attend one of your meetings—”
    “Impossible.”
    She fiddled with the jaunty slant of her bonnet, adjusting the bow near one ear. “In case you’re unaware, before I married Lord Cambourne, I was an actress of no little talent. I could come disguised as a man and I promise you, no one would be the wiser.”
    Lord Digory laughed. “Forgive me, my lady, but no one could mistake one of your delicacy and beauty for anything other than a woman, no matter how well disguised.”
    “I’ll bring one of the daggers for your membership to examine.” Tears made her eyes glisten like amber, and she reached across the table to lay a slim, gloved hand on Lord Digory’s forearm. “Please.”
    Digory screwed his mouth to one side and made a small noise of frustration. “I greatly fear I’m unable to comply. But I’ll tell you what I can do. A week from this Saturday, Lady Digory and I are hosting a little soirée at our home. The members of the Order are allowed to bring their wives to this sort of event. There’ll be dinner and dancing and then when the ladies retire to the parlor, Mr. Preston can join the gentlemen for port and cigars. It won’t be the same as a regular meeting of the Order, you understand, but a great many things of interest will come up for discussion then, I assure you. Especially if Preston brings the dagger with him.”
    Lady Cambourne sighed in frustration. “But my lord—”
    “We’d be delighted,” Preston said, those few words the first indication he could do anything with his mouth besides chew. He wiped his fork on his napkin and stowed it in his vest pocket. “Come, my lady. It’s past time for your appointment at the modiste and now you’ll need a new ball gown, no doubt.”
    Lord Digory smiled indulgently as they took their leave. “What do I always say, Ravenwood? Women are all the same. As easily distracted as children and all it takes is a bit of French lace. Suffrage for women indeed!” He shuddered. “Unthinkable.”
    Malcolm watched them leave, wondering at the rather unusual behavior of Mr. Preston. Taciturn and surly in the company of his betters, then lifting a fork from the King’s Arms, of all things. He was either a very odd duck, or he wanted them to think he was and so underestimate him.
    “Yes,” Malcolm agreed with a frown. “Unthinkable.”
     
    Jacob gave the driver the name of the mantua maker’s shop favored by the fashionable. Julianne bit her lip to keep from countermanding him. Admitting she was a bit light in the pockets might make Jacob reconsider his decision to help her.
    She hoped she could afford a new gown without having to pawn some of her jewelry. She hadn’t worn anything but the pearls and jet for a long while, but she’d brought some of her good pieces to