Page 35

“I did not praise you. I stated a fact.”

“Even better. Facts from you are exceedingly rare when they concern my virtues.”

Sir Lionel laughed into his coffee, and Baines smiled at her with deliberate warmth. Judith returned her attention to her plate at once, though not before he caught the faintest deepening of colour over her cheek.

He had no intention of questioning her directly about the note. If she were involved in the dangerous disclosures, confrontation would only drive her farther underground, and if she were not, he had no wish to accuse an innocent woman merely because she had committed the suspicious act of corresponding privately. Questions were blunt instruments; tests generally proved more useful.

Lord Cranford supplied the opportunity without any assistance.

“Another regiment has gone north, I hear,” he said, reaching for the marmalade.

Baines buttered a slice of toast. “Has it?”

Cranford looked surprised. “You have not heard?”

“I hear many things. Most are untrue.”

“Bosworth wrote that another detachment was moving towards Glasgow.”

Judith’s hand paused over her tea-cup.

Baines let the silence sit for a moment, then said, “I doubt it. If anything, Whitehall appears inclined to reduce the visible military presence. There has been some concern that troops are provoking rather than calming the districts.”

The statement was entirely false. Renforth had told him the exact opposite before he left London.

Judith looked directly at him. “They intend to reduce the presence?”

“The visible presence,” he replied.

“Says whom?” Her tone almost demanded an answer.

Baines lifted one brow. “Miss Finch, I cannot disclose my sources.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I merely wondered, Major, whether your information was reliable.” Those around the table went very still. Her gaze held his with steady irritation. “It matters for the people who live there.”

The answer came calmly enough, though there was steel beneath it. Baines smiled lightly. “Then let us hope I was misinformed.”

For the briefest instant, understanding flashed in her eyes, and he knew she had recognized the test. It was perhaps better that they understood the nature of the game, though he doubted either of them would admit it aloud.

After breakfast, Baines went directly to the stable, where Lucifer stood saddled and ready, his dark coat shining beneath the pale morning light. The rain had broken at last, leaving the air sharp and clean, while the hills beyond Blackthorn rose beneath a washed sky.

Baines ran one hand along the gelding’s neck. “You and I have been volunteered for observation,” he murmured.

Lucifer flicked one ear.

“A sensible response, sir.”

He turned and saw Judith standing at the stable entrance wearing a dark green riding habit and a small hat which, mercifully, bore no resemblance to the cap. For a moment, Baines forgot what he was doing.

The habit fitted her closely at the waist before falling in full skirts suitable for the saddle, and the deep green cloth made her eyes appear brighter, though Baines refused to decide whether they were grey, green, or some inconvenient combination of both. Her hair was pinned neatly beneath the hat, but several soft strands had already escaped near her temples.

There was no hideous frill, no limp ribbons, nothing whatsoever to protect him from noticing that Miss Judith Finch was lovely.

Most unsporting, his inner voice grumbled.

“Do you ride?” he asked.

She looked offended. “I was brought up with boys in Northumberland.”