He had a point.
“Who else?”
“The less you know, the better.”
Oh, no! She was in too deep now, her curiosity barely plumbed. She wasn’t going to be put off by that argument. “My sister?”
“No.”
“Does Francesca know about Ethan?”
There was a pause. Alex only paused when considering what answer he should give. “That must mean yes.”
She felt him shrug.
“Does she know about you?”
“Probably.”
“Am I the only one who doesn’t know?” She threw up her arms.
Beside her, Alex stiffened. “This is serious, Lucia. Lives are at stake. You can’t tell anyone this information. Ever.” The tone of his voice, the barest hint of fear, made her skin prickle. She thought of Francesca and little Colin and Sarah.
“But your brother—”
“He retired after he married.”
“Good.” She let out a relieved sigh. “But you said Dewhurst will go to him about my disappearance?”
“It seems likely, but there’s a limit to even Freddie’s ingenuity. We have to get you home quickly. I’m sending you back to England as soon as we reach Calais.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll go to Paris and bring your brother home.”
“John,” she breathed. Alex would find him, see him safely home. Unless—
She tensed, her fingers gripping Alex’s arm. “You don’t think John’s a spy?”
There was no answer.
Fear ripped through her, making her fingers shake. “No. That’s—”
“Absurd?”
“Yes. John couldn’t be a spy. I would know.”
“It should be absurd, but the king’s dementia must be spreading. I can’t conceive of any other reason Wentworth would have for sending a child to Bonaparte’s France.”
“A child?” Lucia straightened indignantly. “He’s twenty, the same age as I am!”
“God, Lucia, I don’t want to think about that now.” Beside her, he shifted in the dark. If his hands were free he’d probably be raking them through his hair right now. So John was a spy. Her stomach clenched so tightly with fear that she was almost physically ill. But she swallowed her panic. She knew John. He was clever and charming, creative and quick thinking.
Now that she thought of it, he’d make an excellent spy.
“Try my bindings again,” he said, interrupting his thoughts. She steadied him, and he moved so his back was to her.
“So,” she began, anxious to know more, “which of Napoleon’s nefarious plans do we have to thank you for thwarting?”
