Page 17 of Sir Durham’s Disarming Asset

“I need guards, Dáire. Around the clock,” Rafe said.

“Not a problem. Four in shifts of six hours each?”

“That is precisely what I want,” Rafe said.

“What did she do?” the Irishman asked.

“She took a notebook from René Vaillancourt. A betting book.”

Halsey glanced over at Dáire with dancing violet eyes. “She gave it to the Paris rags. They published lists of those indebted to Vaillancourt. Generals and tradesmen alike had their names splashed about the city. No one was happy. Especially Bonaparte.”

Rafe snorted. “He tries to claim his people are so honorable.”

“How in God’s name did she get access to such a thing?” Carlisle asked Rafe. “Has she told you?”

“She was invited to his house for different events. Managed to sneak out, claiming illness or fatigue.” Zeph had evidently been able to wander Vaillancourt’s house and, being stopped by no one, find this book in his study. “This notebook was small, and she could slip it into her corset.”

Dáire whistled softly. “That takes a hell of a lot of pluck.”

“Don’t I know it,” Rafe said with a rueful smile. She was one of the bravest women he had ever known.

“Did she intend to flee afterward?” Dáire asked, a frown forming on his long, strongly boned face.

Rafe blew out a breath. “So many go to Vaillancourt’s house, I doubt she thought she’d ever been tracked.”

All three of his guests winced.

“But someone either saw her,” Rafe added, “or the newspaper publishers somehow tracked her.”

Carlisle tipped his head. “The damage to many people’s reputations is great. Vaillancourt nearly lost his position.”

“Did he?” Rafe found that almost amusing. “How did you learn that?”

“Giselle and I had dinner the other night with Scarlett Hawthorne and Todd Carlton.” Carlisle grinned. “Scarlett knows as much as if she were Bonaparte’s secretary.”

“And Todd Carlton knows what goes on in the great man’s bedroom.”

All four men laughed over that one.

But Rafe sobered. “Did Scarlett know that the woman Halsey, Inès, and I rescued was the one who took the notebook?”

“If she did,” Carlisle said, “she never let on.”

Rafe thanked heaven that he and his friends had formed a tight bond with Scarlett Hawthorne, the shipping heiress who ran the largest espionage network on the Continent. Her chief clerk, a hulking fellow who watched over her like a giant dragon, was just as good an ally.

“Do you think Scarlett would be interested in meeting Zeph?”

Carlisle chuckled. “Meet another woman with guts? Ha!”

“Scarlett wants every asset she can find,” said Halsey.

“After you are in Town,” Carlisle said, “we will throw a few events to introduce Zeph to the renowned Miss Hawthorne.”

*

Zephora stood on the model’s step that Madame Clermont brought with her to do her adjustments. Today’s confection, a new one of many to hold her blossoming breasts, was a peppermint muslin with white lace trim at the bodice and puffy, short sleeves.

Zeph whirled toward the six-foot mirror. She had known she would look superb in this color. One of her favorites, the hue allowed her flame-red hair to glow. Today, in her growing need to feel totally free as air, she let it hang loose to her waist. The dressmaker smiled. Clermont had often told her how she adored her “violently red” hair.