Page 5 of The Wallflower Ruse

Davis shrugged. “I’ve been seriously pondering knocking him over the head and tossing him in the Thames.”

Restive doubted Davis could do this on his own—he weighed several stone less than Wharton—but he had plenty of unsavory friends who wouldn’t balk at murder.

“I daresay, but we need him blundering about,” Restive said. “As long as the French worry about him, they won’t suspect you or me.” Wharton was a rival of sorts, seeing espionage as a contest rather than a patriotic duty—which, in the pursuit of success, made him careless to the point of stupidity.

“I cadged a ride to the Dancing Pig,” Davis said. “As you anticipated, Monsieur Fortin was there, very friendly with some of the smugglers.”

“Did he recognize you?”

“Hard to say. He’s too clever to be obvious. However, money did change hands. He made no effort to hide that.”

“So, he doesn’t particularly care who knows.” Restive paused. “Because it was something unimportant, as items sent via smugglers go? Or because he’s playing a deep game?”

Davis shrugged. “My mates there said he received some lace, but the packet could have contained a message. He rode away towards London, and I returned here.”

Davis took a final swig of wine, wiped his mouth on a napkin, and stood. “I’d best be on my way. Want me to keep an eye on Fortin or wait till you decipher the code?” He paused. “Oh,” he said slyly. “You’ll need the book for that.”

“I don’t suppose it occurred to you to get it from her,” Restive said bitterly.

“It’s safer with her than with me. How did Wharton know I would arrive today?”

“Because I came down here, I assume. He’s been following me about for weeks.” He sighed. “I’ll get it from her. Why the devil did she have to take that one?”

“It was on the desk in full view.” Davis retrieved a valise from the corner, shucked his clothing, and a few minutes later was transformed into a woman—a slatternly sort with a blond wig.

“For that matter, why did she help you?” Restive asked. “Most women would have gone into hysterics.” After a moment, he asked, “You don’t think...”

“That she’s one of them? Working for Wharton?” Again, he rolled his eyes. “No, she’s just a courageous sort of girl. Not a fool, either. She knew I wasn’t a smuggler, but she didn’t ask why they were after me.”

“Why not? Why doesn’t she act like a normal female?”

“Because she isn’t one. And she loathes Wharton. Told him in no uncertain terms to stop ogling her. I was hard put not to laugh out loud. She’s a good sort—but she would dearly like to make you suffer for your rudeness.”

“She told you that?”

Davis shook his head, smiling. “Before I revealed myself, I heard her muttering to herself about revenge.”

Restive snorted. “She’s in company with a great many foolish women.” A pity, for he’d never thought of Lucy Belair as foolish, until now. “Yes, keep an eye on Fortin and his associates, please.”

“Will do.” Davis climbed through the window, blew Restive a loud, smacking kiss, said, “See you in Town, sweeting,” and was gone.