“I suppose it helps when one has a shock.”
She shrugged—as much as she could wedged against him. “Shock fades and people return to their old ways. My father used to tell my brother and me about an agent he knew who was forced into retirement after a severe injury. This agent was given multiple opportunities to retire before he became too incapacitated to do his job. He tried to leave but he kept coming back forjust one more mission. Finally, his superior forced him to retire, but instead of taking up painting or gardening or whatever retired people do, he kept turning up and interfering with other agents’ missions. He became a liability and ruined his entire reputation. Everyone pitied him. If he’d left when he was asked, he would have been remembered as a stellar agent. Instead, he had to be reprimanded and forcibly kept away from missions.
“My father said soon after that agent was publicly rebuked, he died of his infirmary. He said his end was hastened by his failure to adjust and find meaning in other parts of life.”
“These are the sorts of stories your father used to tell you and Will?”
She smiled. “He was trying to teach us a lesson.”
“Which was?”
“Change is to be embraced, not feared. The man—or woman—who cannot change is a liability.”
“Your parents were able to retire from service and keep their reputations. We had half a chapter on them in history at the Farm.”
She felt her cheeks heat. “Do not remind me. The truth is they struggled a bit with retirement. They both loved their work so much. But as Will and I grew older, we were grateful they scaled back their work and devoted themselves to family. It meant we didn’t have to be raised by servants and one of our parents was always home to tuck us into bed.”
“So they were still agents when you were young?”
She yawned. “I think they mostly consulted and trained new agents after Willoughby was born, but there was the occasional opportunity to do field work that they couldn’t quite resist. By the time I was ten or so, both were home far more than they were away.” She turned on her back and stretched. She would have to get up and start back to the house in a few minutes. “The point is, I admire people who can change. I admire a man who can admit his mistakes and fix them.” She looked at him. “I find it very,veryattractive.”
“You’re playing with fire.” His tone held a warning.
“Oh, promises, promises. Too bad I must go back to the lodge.” She tried to move away, but he threw an arm over her and trapped her. “You think I can’t beat you in hand-to-hand?” she asked.
“I know you’d like to think so.” He clamped his hands on her wrists and looked down at her. “Shall we continue this skirmish another time?”
“Definitely.” She arched her back, hoping he would kiss her. Instead, he released her and rolled away, moving out of her path so she might rise.
With a sigh, Lucy got to her feet and set about straightening her hair and clothes and finding her drawers. She didn’t expect to see anyone and need to explain herself, but one couldn’t be too careful.
Duncan had been straightening his own clothing, and now she turned to him, knowing what she needed to say but reluctant to say it.
“Duncan,” she said.
He gave her a wary look. He must have heard in her voice that she had bad news to impart.
“I feel as though I should be clear on one point.”
“Go on.” He folded his arms and regarded her from beside the window.
“What happened tonight—between us—I don’t want you to form the wrong impression.”
“And what impression do you think I’ve formed?”
She looked past him, out the window at the lightening sky and the still-black water of the Thames. “You said you loved me.”
“I said I realized at the Farm I’d fallen in love with you.”
“How is that different?”
“One is a declaration, and one is stating a fact.”
She waved a hand. “Semantics. You have strong feelings for me.”
“And you don’t share them. I didn’t expect you to, Lucy, despite what happened between us tonight. I don’t expect a bit of bedsport to cause you to fall in love.”
Lucy moved toward him and would have put a hand on his arm, but he moved out of reach. “We’re friends, yes?”
