Duncan was already there—not hiding this time—and he had brought a container with warm tea and two cups. He poured her a cup and promptly went to sleep on the cot while she took the first watch.
Lucy kept awake by reviewing all the information she had regarding Lord John, the threats against his son, and what she had seen at Pembroke Lodge thus far. Baron’s missive had said to keep all options open.
Did he also suspect it wasn’t the union workers who posed a threat to Johnny or was she reaching too far with that theory?
Perhaps he meant they should be suspicious of everyone. Lucy couldn’t see Mrs. Cox, Wilhemina, or sweet Ada as having anything to do with this plot, but Molly was another thing entirely. Still, one had to look at motive, and Molly had none.
That Lucy knew of.
She sighed and looked at Duncan, who was sleeping with his back to her, curled on the cot. Lucy suspected she only wanted to blame Molly for something because the maid had set her sights on Duncan. And why shouldn’t she? Duncan didn’t belong to Lucy. In fact, she’d told him they had made a mistake being intimate. And she stood by that. They had to focus on the mission.
Lucy took a breath and stared out at the rainy night again. She could barely see what was right outside the window. How would she see anyone approaching? Lord, she was so tempted to nudge Duncan over on that cot and curl into his heat and sleep for hours. Except if she were that close to him, she doubted she would sleep.
Why the devil did he have to be so...so perfect? Why couldn’t he be like other men and dismiss her abilities merely because she had breasts? Then she could disdain and hate him. But no. He had to compliment her and praise her, and the dratted man meant every word he said too. He seemed to truly respect her.
All those months at the Farm trying to prove she was as capable as he had been a waste of time. He’d always thought her capable. She’d only been competing with herself when she issued him challenges.
But the fact that he respected and appreciated her wasn’t what kept her thoughts returning to him. It was the fact that he wasn’t at all what he seemed. At the Farm he was always polite and kind and the perfect gentleman. He wasn’t the sort of man who typically attracted her at all.
Until he’d shown her that other side. The side she could imagine might all too easily pick her up, throw her over his shoulder, and take her to bed. Or pleasure her up against a wall—as he’d done last night.
But then hadn’t she known, deep down, that there was more to him than she wanted to admit? Hadn’t she seen he was dangerous? How else to account for the fact that she’d been purposely abrasive and contrary to him almost from the moment they met?
It was because she knew if she didn’t push him away, she would yank him closer.
“No, no, no,” she whispered to herself. “Remember the mission.”
Behind her, Duncan stirred. “Is it time for my watch?”
Lucy had no idea. She’d completely lost track of time. She pulled her small watch from her pocket and peered at it in the gloom. Half the night had passed while she’d been absorbed in her thoughts.
“It is,” she said, grateful for the opportunity to sleep and forget about Duncan and her conflicted feelings for a few hours.
Except when she climbed into the cot, it was warm from his body and still held his scent. Annoyed, Lucy rose and went to lay in a cold cot on the opposite side of the room.
***
AFTER A WEEK OF SURVEILLANCEat the summer house, James and Thomas had stopped teasing Duncan about his late-night absences from their room. The footmen assumed he had a lover. They further suspected it was Molly, and Duncan neither confirmed nor denied. But when Molly flirted with him at the breakfast table, he flirted back a little and watched as his fellow footmen exchanged winks and nudges.
If only they knew what his nights were really like. He and Lucy took turns sleeping on cold, hard cots or staring out a window all night. They met periodically to walk the grounds of Pembroke Lodge and even ventured into Richmond Park to look for any evidence of something or someone unusual or suspicious. They found nothing.
The cloth that had held the dagger at the tree log was undisturbed. No further attempts were made to enter the house through windows. No one was observed leaving the house. Lucy was making progress teaching Johnny to read, but Duncan could tell from her bad moods she was frustrated they weren’t making strides on the mission.
Finally, one evening when most of the house had gone to bed, Lord John summoned them both to his study. The three windows that made up the distinctive bow on one side were dark, their black panes reflecting the flickering fire in the hearth.
Duncan had arrived first, and Lord John had given him the missive from Baron without preamble.
“I opened it,” he said when Duncan glanced at the broken seal. “Didn’t realize at first it wasn’t for me. Couldn’t make head nor tails of it, though.”
“It’s in code,” Duncan said as Lucy tapped on the door and entered.
He waited until she’d closed the door then held up the letter. “Missive from Baron.”
Her eyes lit with anticipation. She was as eager for any news Baron might send as Duncan.
“I know I’m not technically your superior,” the prime minister began, “but perhaps you could give me some sort of report. You’ve been here almost a fortnight. Any progress?”
Duncan glanced at Lucy. “We have made progress, my lord,” she said, coming to stand on the other side of his desk. He indicated a chair, and she sat. Duncan remained standing, not entirely comfortable sitting in the presence of a man like the prime minister. “We’ve been doing quite a bit of surveillance, looking for any evidence of interlopers. We think someone might have met in the summer house on the west side of the property, and we’ve spent many nights there, hoping to catch them when they return.”
