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For the first time, Judith saw the troop together.

The recognition was peculiar. She had heard their names often enough that she had unconsciously formed impressions of gentlemen she had never met, yet the reality differed from expectation. Fielding was steadier in appearance than she had imagined, with an ease about him that suggested a man comfortable allowing others to occupy the centre of attention. Cholmely—Chum, she remembered—had a pleasant, open countenance which seemed ill-suited to clandestine meetings, while Manners was exactly the sort of elegant gentleman Judith would never have suspected of conducting Intelligence work. That, she supposed, was rather the point.

Baines closed the door behind them. “Gentlemen, Miss Judith Finch. Judith, Captain Joshua Fielding, Captain Lord Ormond Cholmely, whom you must call Chum if you wish him to answer, and Major Archibald Manners.”

Manners bowed. “A pleasure, ma’am.”

Judith looked at him. “At last I meet the infamous troop.”

“We have heard a great deal about you also.”

Baines removed his gloves. “You have heard almost nothing about her.”

“Eleven mentions in one report,” Renforth interposed, his voice holding no inflection.

Fielding smiled.

Baines stared at his commanding officer. “That information was confidential.”

“So was the report.”

Judith decided she liked Renforth even more than she had previously supposed.

Chum came forward and bowed. “It is a pleasure, Miss Finch. I should apologize for Manners, but we have found apologies only encourage him.”

Manners appeared entirely untroubled. “I merely meant that Baines’ reports have become considerably more interesting since his arrival at Blackthorn.”

“Have they?”

“No,” Baines said.

“Yes,” said four of the gentlemen.

Judith laughed, and the expression Baines turned upon his companions contained more resignation than annoyance.

“I had forgotten how tedious you all are.”

Fielding shook her hand when she offered it, his manner warm rather than formal. “We are pleased to meet you, Miss Finch. Particularly so since Stuart informs us you discovered him within a day.”

“I did not discover him. I merely thought he was a suspicious horse buyer.”

“That is worse,” Manners said.

Stuart sighed. “Could we perhaps discuss the treason?”

Renforth, who had allowed the reunion to proceed with surprising patience, placed a small object upon the table.

The humour disappeared. It was a silver clasp. They all moved closer.

At first she saw nothing remarkable. The piece was perhaps an inch long, intricately worked with leaves around a central flower, the sort of clasp which might fasten a necklace or bracelet. It appeared old rather than fashionable and showed scratches around one edge.

“Is it Lady Dunsmore’s?” she asked.

“No,” Fielding replied. “That is still at Pearce’s shop.”

Judith looked at him.

Fielding rested both hands upon the table. “The parcel Stuart followed was not Lady Dunsmore’s. The watchmaker’s boy carried three parcels from the shop, but the carrier received this one from a man waiting behind the inn.”