Page 89 of A Bluestocking’s Secret Courtship

“Wasn’t?” Jonathan asked.

She sharpened her gaze on him.

“You said he wasn’t a good man. Does that mean he is⁠—?”

“He drowned in the Thames,” she said. “Havers! Why am I the only one supplying answers?”

Jonathan exhaled. “When did he die?”

“A few months ago. Now, it’s your turn. What is Farrin’s dirty work?”

Jonathan looked at Uncle Charles; her uncle nodded.

“A Regent’s man belongs to the Regent’s Consul,” Jonathan said. “It’s a secret spy group formed by the King before his coronation. Our mission was to gather intelligence on Napoleon’s movements during the war.”

“The war is over, so why do you still exist?” She turned to her uncle. “Are you one of them, too? What is this?” She gestured to the landscape. “Is this some kind of mission? I thought you were on a dig.”

Uncle Charles dropped his head, staring at the ground.

“Good Lord!” She hopped from the boulder to pace several steps away before spinning back to face him. “You didn’t stumble into this mess. You are an active participant. I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not,” her uncle said fiercely.

“Your journal was written in code. You were surveilling the Semkari—or were you trying to hire them? Are you plotting to rescue Napoleon?”

His jaw dropped. “Did you read my journal? How?”

“We deciphered it. Regina, Xavier, Jonathan, and I.”

“Then you know I’m trying to stop it.” He glanced at Jonathan who hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “Evangeline, don’t you understand that I’m doing what is right?”

“I don’t know anything, apparently,” she said. “You’ve been lying my whole life. Was any of it true—the letters you sent Mama?” Her voice broke, but when her uncle tried to stand to come to her, she waved him away. “You promised to take me on a dig.”

“I meant it, Vanna. The Consul was being dissolved until this plot came to light. It still will if I can make it back home.”

“Why—?” Tears stung the backs of her eyes. “Why wouldn’t you make it back?”

Jonathan stiffened. It was barely noticeable, but she was in tune even when she was angry with him.

“What does he mean, Jonathan?”

“I—” Beads of sweat formed on his upper lip. “I promise, he’s safe—so are you. I love you, and I believe him. He is working for England. He isn’t a traitor.”

“Go ahead,” Uncle Charles said. “Tell her everything.”

She waited while Jonathan’s face fell. She felt the sinking in her gut. “Tell me,” she whispered.

Jonathan sighed, resigned. “Your uncle is a marked man. I was assigned to…erm⁠—”

“To what? Kill him?” She laughed at the ridiculousness. Jonathan had fought to save her uncle. He wasn’t a killer.

But he wasn’t laughing along. Neither was her uncle.

My God! Was this what her uncle meant by doing Farrin’s dirty work? Had Farrin sent Jonathan, a man she had opened her heart to without reservation, to assassinate her uncle? And he’d used her to find him?

From her boot, she whipped out the knife Kiya had given her and brandished it. “Stay away from my uncle!”

“No, it isn’t like that.” Jonathan stood, holding his arms out at his sides. “I wasn’t going to follow my orders. I swear.”