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appearance will be in two weeks’ time.”
    â€œWhat is it?” Christina swallowed the dismayed noise that wanted to crawl from her throat. It didn’t matter that she’d been a field agent for only a year. She could do this. She would do this.
    The princess tapped a long, manicured nail against the arm of the davenport. “It is the sixtieth wedding anniversary of my grandaunt and -­uncle, the Viscount and Viscountess of Nabourg. Because my father will be in Somalia on a humanitarian mission and my mother will address the Chamber of Representatives on the plight of our most rural farmers, it was decided that I should represent the royal family. To be truthful, it seems that every member of my family must be elsewhere. What is the American idiom? I drew the shorter straw.”
    Trevor chuckled. “Amazing how that happens.”
    â€œWon’t they recognize me?” Christina stumbled over the words, more alarmed than she ought to be. Her continued career with the CIA rested on the success of this mission; Jay had made that abundantly clear.
    Princess Véronique suppressed a smile and rolled her eyes. “Lord Hugh is eighty-­five and nearly blind. Lady Adela reminisces about her youth in Andorra to the exclusion of all else. Together, they can be rather tiresome. My contact with them over the years has been limited to mandatory appearances such as this one. As I am not close to them or their friends, it is doubtful any guests at this ball will know me intimately.” She frowned. “The news of the assassination attempt will cause some stir, as will your bodyguard.”
    â€œThat works in our favor, actually,” Christina said, calm again, feeling foolish about her nerves. “If I mess up, ­people will assume the attack shook me up. They’ll cut me some slack. I’ll downplay it as much as possible, though.”
    Deni Van Praet, private secretary to the princess of Concordia, rose abruptly from her seat to poke at Christina’s bare shoulder. “We must cover that, yes?” Her ramrod posture and carefully styled hair fit into the environment perfectly.
    Twisting her head to glance at her right arm, she pulled the sleeveless shirt up to see the two-­inch jagged scar. It had faded from its original angry red, a souvenir from her aborted mission in Iraq last year. It was a brutal reminder of how close she had come to dying that day.
    â€œYes.”
    Behind her, Trevor was outlining his plan for investigating the threats against Véronique. “I’ll need you to make me a list. Divide it into personal friends, acquaintances, and anyone who might hold a grudge or be angry with you. Don’t dismiss anyone, don’t assume it can’t be this or that person. When it comes to death threats, it could be a total stranger, a psychotic who has fixated on you for whatever reason. An assassination attempt is more serious. Someone’s already made the decision to end your life. Maybe he blames you for his circumstances; but it could just as easily be someone you know. It will take some time to do the background checks on all of them. We’ll use the time while you teach Christina.”
    â€œShould you require it, you have at your disposal, of course, the full resources of our Department of Security,” Véronique said.
    Trevor shook his head. “While the British government appreciates your generosity, we’re assuming the threat can come from anywhere. We can’t risk it.”
    â€œThen I will let you get to it, and I will work on that list.” The princess rose. Trevor got up as well, recognizing the dismissal for what it was. She turned her luminous eyes Christina’s way. “Will you help me?”
    â€œOf course, Your Royal Highness,” she murmured. Her body was already softening, her posture changing. She rose just as Véronique had, shoulders back, chin down, fingers touching but not