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Lady Dunsmore looked offended. “He is a very affectionate animal, Major. He cannot be expected to understand the absurd importance people attach to their possessions.”

“Then he and I have much in common.”

Judith accepted the handkerchief from him. “Indeed, Major. Neither of you appears particularly troubled by the consequences of your behaviour.”

Baines smiled at her. “Yet I live in hope of being forgiven.”

For a moment their eyes met, and Judith forgot the other occupants of the room. Then Lady Dunsmore began complaining about the tea. Judith turned away, grateful for the interruption and irritated by her gratitude.

She had spent the evening discovering that someone had been listening behind the walls of Blackthorn, that an apparently respectable servant had been persuaded to assist an unknown employer, and that her own private correspondence had become an object of interest to people whose intentions she could not determine. It was more than enough to occupy any sensible woman’s thoughts.

Yet as Baines moved near the fire, Judith found herself watching him with an uneasiness that had nothing to do with the investigation.

They would discover the culprit, the officers would return to their duties, and the house would recover its customary disorder. Major Baines would leave with them. She knew that perfectly well. What she did not know was how she had allowed herself to become so attached to a gentleman whose departure she had once anticipated with considerable satisfaction.

From across the room, Baines looked towards her and his expression softened.

Judith lowered her eyes to the handkerchief in her hands and discovered that she had been folding it for several moments without accomplishing anything useful. It was a most unsatisfactory state of affairs.

Meanwhile, somewhere within Blackthorn Hall, concealed beneath the ordinary habits of respectable Society, another person was plotting her downfall.

CHAPTER 19

Baines had always considered himself a reasonably patient man. He had endured campaigns in miserable weather, officers of questionable intelligence, and a French surgeon who had insisted upon discussing philosophy while removing a musket ball from his shoulder. He had even survived years of friendship with Archibald Manners, an accomplishment which ought to have qualified him for some form of military distinction. The discovery that someone intended to implicate Judith Finch in a conspiracy against the Crown, however, was untenable.

He stood before the window in the old cottage, watching the first grey light spread across the fields. The rain had continued to fall during the night, leaving the lane rutted and hedgerows glistening beneath a pale April sky. Beyond the fields, the wooded slopes rose towards the moors, where the morning mist lay in the hollows like smoke from a distant encampment.

Ordinarily, he would have appreciated the prospect. Blackthorn possessed a rugged beauty which he had come to admire, though he suspected much of his affection for the place had rather less to do with its landscape than with its mistress.

Blackthorn functioned because Judith Finch understood its workings with the precision of a regimental quartermaster and possessed the compassion of a woman who cared for everyone. Someone had decided to turn that against her.

The matter of Mallory’s apprehension presented another difficulty. If the person directing him learned that the valet had been discovered in the concealed passage, their carefully arranged opportunity to follow his next delivery would be lost. For the present, Mallory was confined to a room in the cottage where he and Chum had taken turns guarding the man overnight, his absence being attributed to a sudden illness. Simmons had been instructed to offer that explanation should anyone enquire, including Lord Cranford, who was unlikely to appreciate being deprived of his valet without warning. Baines could only hope that Cranford would prove the sole interested party. The fewer people who remarked upon Mallory’s absence, the greater their chance of allowing the delivery to proceed without arousing suspicion.

The sound of approaching horses interrupted his thoughts. Baines glanced through the window as four riders turned into the narrow lane, their mounts picking a careful passage through the mud. Renforth rode at their head, followed by Manners, Fielding and Stuart.

A few minutes later, Renforth entered, followed by the others. The Colonel carried a leather dispatch case beneath one arm. He looked as composed as ever, although the deepening lines beside his eyes betrayed the strain of the investigation.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Renforth said as he and the others filled the small room with their presence.

“Mallory has agreed to make the delivery.”

“Excellent. Has he been told what will happen if he attempts to warn his employer?” Renforth asked.

“He has been told that his cooperation may influence how his conduct is judged. He appears sufficiently frightened to appreciate the distinction.”

Fielding placed a folded sheet upon the desk. “We have prepared a report resembling his usual correspondence. It contains enough genuine observations to avoid suspicion, together with one piece of information which should encourage the recipient to act.”

“What information?” Baines asked.

“That Renforth intends to question Miss Finch concerning her association with Will Fletcher.”

Baines stiffened. “You intend to use Judith as bait?”

Renforth met his gaze. “She is agreeable. We must discover whether the person directing Mallory is preparing to accuse her. The report contains no admission of wrong-doing, and no one will be permitted to approach her without our knowledge.”

“That is not the same as saying she is safe.”

“No.” Renforth did not prevaricate.