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Davenport raised a brow, still looking through the notes. “The same slave trade Bradshaw was involved in?”

Ian nodded. “It does seem like it. I jotted down the key information, and it will take me a few days to put everything to paper.”

“Fabulous,” Davenport said as he stacked the papers against the desk and then hid them in his briefcase. “I expect you to hand over every piece of information you manage to write down. I have no doubt you’ll be able to recount every little detail.”

Ian scoffed. He had an exceptional memory, yes. But even so, he wasn’t a wizard. “I’ll do my best.”

“You should be getting a raise,” Davenport said, then cleared his throat.

Ian gave a shallow nod. “And yet?”

The man heaved a sigh before extending a thin, bony hand draped in a silk black glove palm up. “The ring, please.”

Ian instinctively stepped back. “Why?” he growled, although he knew very well why.

So did the handler. “You know the reasons,” he stated calmly.

“No, I don’t. This incident does not ruin my cover. Everybody already thinks that I am a depraved rake. This changes nothing.”

“This changes everything,” Davenport stated slowly. “Until today, you were a harmless drunk. A nobody. Now, you are the talk of the town. The next event you attend, all eyes will be on you. No man will allow a lady close to you. You’ve invited attention to yourself and this is the opposite of what our job is.”

“I can still do my job just as well. I proved that with the letters, didn’t I?”

“Sneaking into a man’s home is not the most difficult part of our job, and you know that. It’s getting the trust of people you don’t yet know. It’s being invisible, so you can eavesdrop without issues, and watch people when they think nobody’s looking. You’re not invisible anymore. How do you expect to navigate the city undetected?”

“I navigated Hardgrove’s house quite well.”

“He is a drunk and a fool. And what if he realizes that the letters are gone? What if you’re caught? Then your sources will burn as well. Have you thought of that?”

“I can do my job,” Ian growled.

“Well, then prove it,” Davenport said without missing a beat. He took Ian’s hand and deftly slid the ring off his finger. “But you’ll have to do it in an unofficial capacity.” Then he whirled on his heel and stalked away, closing the door behind him.

Ian stood watching the door with an unseeing gaze. His eyes drifted toward the corner where the side table with more whisky stood, inviting. Now that he had been let go from his duties to the Crown, he could indulge in the drink and spend the days uselessly gallivanting about town, proving his rakish reputation true.

He strode past the vile drink and left his study.

Perhaps if he’d been younger, he would’ve done exactly that. He had been foolish and irresponsible in the past. Ian flinched remembering his days spent as a debauched youth. He was so angry with the world, with his father, with the unfairness of it all that the only way he saw to get back at the world was to throw everything away.

Davenport was the one who’d saved him from the downward spiral. He had needed a patriot to help with a tiny mission. And the only person in the position to help was Ian. He hadn’t known what kind of task Davenport had given him. He’d just said that it was for the safety of the King.

The King!

The first thought that had run through Ian’s mind was that his father would be so proud. And the second thought was that of course, he wouldn’t. The proud Scottish earl loathed the King although he was forced to work under his rule.

Ian crossed the expanse of his house with long, confident strides. The polished wood of the floors echoed his footsteps as he made his way through the grand hallway, his eyes flickering briefly over the portraits of his ancestors that lined the walls.

Proud or not, Ian had thought that helping the King would have to force his father to acknowledge him. Perhaps, even care for him the way he cared for his other children—his real children.

It hadn’t turned out that way. Ian had finished the mission and was never the same since. The one tiny mission had turned into multiple. His desire to distinguish himself had turned into an obsession.

He loved the thrill of covert missions. He enjoyed hiding out in the shadows, figuring out puzzles about secret societies, and putting together the links between people in the networks opposing the king. And he loved most of all outsmarting everyone while they thought he was a mindless drunk.

Ian had finally found a cause to be a part of. His sharp memory and his athletic reflexes made him the perfect spy.

Davenport gave him a reason to exist. And he wouldn’t be the man to take it away.

Once, Ian had been a dramatic youth who gave up on everything just because his father didn’t love him. Now a man with a purpose, he would do whatever it took to fulfill it.