Free Eloquence and Espionage by Regina Scott

“I have a proposition for you.”
    Though Sinclair’s answer had thrust his life
further into the shadows, he had never regretted accepting his
lordship’s offer or the adventures it had provided. He only
regretted he hadn’t been successful this time.
    Captain Randolph, a tall, blond fellow with
a square chin, led Sinclair immediately into a spacious suite
hidden in a back corner of the impressive government building. As
the captain went to stand behind the desk, head high in his Oxford
blue regimentals, Hastings looked up from some papers before him
and waved Sinclair closer. Anyone looking at him would hardly
consider him dangerous in his dapper brown coat and gold-shot
waistcoat. With thick, short-cropped hair and a bristling mustache
turned to gray, he seemed more likely to be found reading a paper
at his favorite club than directing the destiny of the nation. But
those deep-set brown eyes were shrewd, his energy
indefatigable.
    “Report,” his superior barked as Sinclair
came to a stop in front of the claw-foot walnut desk.
    He kept his gaze on the white paneling over
his lordship’s shoulder. “Still no luck identifying our French
assailant.”
    Hastings leaned back in his chair, drawing
Sinclair’s attention to his face. Were those new lines around his
mobile mouth? Was this assignment even more important than Sinclair
had thought?
    “No further sightings?” Hastings pressed.
“No murmurs among the ton ?”
    “Nothing since the attack on Ariadne
Courdebas,” Sinclair assured him.
    The slightest crease appeared in Captain
Randolph’s broad forehead. Did he know something Sinclair had
failed to discover?
    “And Miss Courdebas?” Hastings asked as if
the topic held no more interest than the current weather. “How does
she fit in all this?”
    He was too canny by half. Hastings was ever
observing, gauging reactions, sensing emotions. The least movement
would speak volumes.
    “I am convinced she is an innocent,”
Sinclair replied, holding himself steady and calm. “I have seen
nothing, heard nothing that would tell me otherwise.”
    Hastings did not respond. As the silence
stretched, Sinclair saw Captain Randolph swallow. Sinclair couldn’t
stop the question. “Have you?”
    “Not a bit,” Hastings confirmed readily.
“I’ve only met the girl twice this Season with her family, but she
strikes me as level-headed and wise beyond her years.”
    Sinclair relaxed. “I am under the same
impression.”
    “And that is no doubt why you felt it
incumbent to betroth yourself to the girl.”
    Sinclair shook his head, chuckle bubbling
up. “Perhaps you should discharge me, my lord, for you are the
second person to admit to knowing news I thought unknown to
most.”
    Hastings rose. “Nothing is a secret on the ton . You simply need to know who to ask.” He waved a hand.
“Sit down, Hawksbury. I’m not going to discharge you. You have the
makings of a fine intelligence agent. And, given the situation with
Miss Courdebas, I might have done the same as you.”
    Sinclair allowed himself to sink onto the
hard wood chair on his side of the desk. Hastings paced back and
forth on the other side.
    “I have been made privy to certain actions
within the halls of government,” he told Sinclair, hands clasped
behind his back, “and I believe I know the spy’s target, if not the
victim’s identity.”
    So that’s what he’d missed. His mind sorted
through possibilities, considered every angle. “Lord Rollings?” he
asked. “Ariadne’s father?”
    Hastings paused, glancing at him with raised
brow. “An astute guess, but no. While he is an avid supporter in
Parliament, he isn’t connected to the War Office.”
    “The War Office.” Sinclair edged forward in
his seat. “Then this possible attack has something to do with our
strategy against Napoleon.”
    Hastings commenced pacing again, as if his
energy could not be confined to his desk or even this room. “That I
am not at liberty to say. What I have