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that your change of heart about the ball and your betrothal are somehow interrelated?”

“I’ve no clue wot goes on in that head of yers. Aren’t ladies supposed to offer tea or refreshments?”

The faint sound of Christopher’s footsteps in the hall had Emma jumping to her feet, nearly tripping over her own blasted skirts. “Christopher has arrived.”

Bronwyn looked to the door. “How do you know it is Christopher and not my husband?”

“First, the staff scurry when Landon is about. Second, Landon favors Hessian boots, which have a heavy heel, and Christopher has taken to wearing the new shorter-heeled boot designed by Wellington and made by Hoby. Does becoming pregnant make ye deaf?” Emma moved quickly to stand near the far window. Her feelings for Christopher remained a jumbled mess. She wasn’t prepared to see her betrothed. Not having time to fully sort through all her mum had shared with her this morn, Emma instinctively slipped back into the shadows

“Not at all. You have always had better hearing than I.”

Emma muttered, “Or now ye are a lady, ye’re getting’ soft and not payin’ attention to wot’s goin’ on?”

Bronwyn snapped back, “I heard that.”

Emma positioned herself so the drape partially concealed her form but allowed her a clear view of the door and her friend. Bronwyn was carefully arranging both her skirts and her features. The door flew open, and Christopher marched in.

Bent to give Bronwyn a hug, he asked, “How are you feeling today?”

Christopher was dressed in a royal blue jacket with a plain white waistcoat and cravat. The ends of the navy cravat that no doubt went with his ensemble but was instead in Emma’s hair brushed against the back of her neck. She clutched the edge of the drapes. The urge to be near him was at odds with her training to remain undetected.

Bronwyn’s smile was strained. “I’m well.”

“Liar.”

“I am not.” The ladylike curve of Bronwyn’s lips was gone, replaced with a grin that held a challenge. Emma wanted to warn Christopher to be careful, but Bronwyn released a heavy sigh and said, “It’s not my pregnancy that has my stomach in knots this morn.”

Blimey. They had been raised to be mistrustful of others, and it was a rarity that Bronwyn ever let her guard down. Yet Christopher, in a matter of moments, had disarmed Bronwyn and had the woman confessing the truth. Hadn’t he charmed Emma just as easily? Egad. She would need to be cautious, or she, like Bronwyn, would lose her edge.

Bronwyn reached into her skirts and handed Christopher a box. “This arrived for you hours ago.”

Christopher inspected the box, but his features gave Emma no indication of what might be inside. “Perfect.” He placed the box on the side table and flopped onto the settee as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

Clutching her hands in her lap, Bronwyn asked, “Did you meet with the council?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Aye, and I should like to share with my fiancée what was discussed as soon as she decides to cease attempting to blend into the damned curtains and come join us.”

Bronwyn whispered, “Old habits are hard to break. Give her some time.”

Emma’s nostrils flared as she inhaled and walked directly to stand before her betrothed. Glancing down at Christopher, all her anger evaporated at the sight of his teasing smile. Tamping down the urge to kiss the smirk off the man’s face, Emma asked, “Did ye get the council’s permission?”

Christopher patted the space next to him. “They have requested I see to a number of tasks before and after we wed.” He reached for Emma’s hand and rubbed his thumb over the top of her knuckles. Turning to address Bronwyn, he said, “Was Landon present when you met with the council?”

What the devil was going on? Emma sank to the settee, and Christopher pulled her closer to him. Worried that the council had made impossible demands, she settled in close as an act of support.

Bronwyn’s eyebrows arched. “My husband had already left when Mrs. Lennox arrived and requested I attend an impromptu council meeting prior to meeting with you.”

“Would care to explain the reasoning behind their requests?” All the color faded from Bronwyn’s face as he pulled out a piece of ripped parchment from his breast pocket. “In particular, why Emma is to provide her services exclusively to this one woman?”

Emma couldn’t believe her ears. The council was restricting her clientele to one. “Who?”

Bronwyn raised her chin and answered, “Miss Eliza Suttingham.”

Emma blurted, “Who on God’s green earth is that?”

Her best friend calmly said, “The woman who Tobias, Lord Burke, is in love with and the reason why he has abandoned his duties here as PORF and left for New York.”

“Is that your hypothesis as a PORF or a former Network member?” Christopher’s question caused Bronwyn to flinch. It was odd to see her normally unflappable friend flustered.

“It’s not a theory. It is a fact.”

“So Lord Burke informed my brother that he has forsaken his oath to carry out the Burkes’ family duty to protect the royal family.”

“Well, not exactly. Prior to leaving, he did not share his plans with any of the PORFs.” Bronwyn’s eyes darted to Emma.

“Hmph.” When Emma’s huff failed to draw Christopher’s attention, she moved her free hand to rest upon Christopher’s knee. His gaze fell upon her hand before it traveled up to meet Emma’s. “The Network elders were informed that when Lord Burke departed for the New World, he instructed his steward to sell everything that wasn’t entailed and left specific instructions as to how to disburse the funds to those in his service.”

Christopher glanced back at Bronwyn. “Then explain why I am to convince your husband it is prudent for a retinue of Network members be sent to follow Lord Burke?”

Emma didn’t care for Christopher’s tone. Her friend was in a challenging position. Like Emma, Bronwyn had been raised to take a seat at the council table when the time came. But now, Bronwyn was a

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