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“I have not decided yet,” she said at last.
His gaze held hers. “Then I shall endeavour to remain mysterious.”
“You are not nearly as mysterious as you suppose.”
Sir Lionel groaned. “Must you two do this continually?”
“Do what?” Baines asked innocently.
“This.” He waved his hand between them.
Judith rose. “I have no idea what you mean.”
Her uncle looked from one to the other and suddenly appeared far too entertained. That was unacceptable. With dignity, she crossed towards the door.
“Where are you going?” Sir Lionel asked.
“To arrange tea, check that Lord Cranford’s hunters are safe in the stables, settle Mrs. Pembroke’s quarrel with her maid, and ensure no one destroys any additional porcelain before dinner.”
Baines had risen at the same time as she had. “I had hoped you might remain and instruct me in the household.”
Judith looked at him. “That would require months.”
“I am an avid pupil.”
The warmth of his gaze was unmistakable now. Judith felt an answering heat rise irritatingly beneath her collar. She refused to surrender so much as an inch.
“Then I recommend you remain with my uncle. His files should occupy you for hours.”
Sir Lionel protested from behind his desk. “I possess a perfectly satisfactory system.”
“You keep parliamentary correspondence beneath fishing catalogues.”
“Then no one will steal it.”
Baines looked thoughtful. “Perhaps Sir Lionel is the true intelligence expert.”
Judith opened the door before either gentleman could see her smile.
Behind her, Baines called, “Miss Finch?”
She looked back, despite herself.
His expression had changed again. The flirtation remained, but intelligence sat plainly beneath it now. “Do not investigate anything alone.”
There was no teasing in the words. Her amusement vanished.
“You dislike being told what to do,” he observed.
“You are very astute, sir.”
His mouth curved. “Then we understand one another.”
No, Judith thought as she left the study, they did not; not in the least.
Major Baines believed he had come to Blackthorn to discover who was passing information from its drawing rooms into radical hands. He had not yet considered the possibility that the woman who arranged the dinners, knew every servant, remembered every guest, and possessed access to nearly every room in the house might already know far more than she had chosen to tell him.
Judith walked along the corridor at an unhurried pace, waited until the study door had closed behind her, and only then slipped one hand into the pocket concealed within the folds of her skirt.
