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and the rush of fresh air against him pulled him back in time, as if he once more trod the decks of his ship.
    As if he once more knew what was expected of him, and how to fulfill those obligations.
    The bay tossed its head and strained against the reins, drawing Julian’s attention back to the ride. “Now be truthful with me, Miss Vance. I know you would rather spend such a fine morning enjoying your freedom here than locked in your schoolroom.” He swept his arm in the direction of the village below. The sun shimmered on the snow-clad roofs like candlelight on the finest silk.
    “It seems you are determined to know all my secrets, my lord.”
    “The important ones, to be sure.”
    “So then, what did you decide?”
    He shifted to better see her face. A gust of winter stirred the ribbons of her humble bonnet and tossed them against her cheeks. “I’ve decided you will continue your criminal activities.”
    Her brows drew together. “My lord?”
    “As directed by me. I’ll provide you with the information, and you will pass it along to your contacts.”
    “You want me to betray those who hired me?”
    “I thought your services were for sale, Miss Vance. Surely your life is fitting compensation for what I ask of you?”
    She fidgeted with the reins, her gaze level. Weighing him. “What would you have me do?”
    “That wasn’t so difficult, was it? You will start by informing your contact Lord Chambelston has called upon Sotherton.”
    “I, ah, already have. Yesterday afternoon.”
    “You are nothing if not efficient. I should have expected nothing less, I suppose. Did you include any other details I should know about?”
    “Only that you are newly come into your title, it would seem.”
    “Indeed, quite recently.” And perhaps not naturally. But then she knew that from his anonymous note. A new thought struck him. If his father’s death were indeed the result of the radicals, she could have gleaned nothing from the note their leadership didn’t already know. Was she as she said, only a governess earning a bit of coin and not well connected to the radicals? Or was his anonymous source sending him spurious information? To what end?
    Compassion shimmered in the hazel gaze that met his. “I’m sorry for your loss, my lord.”
    “Thank you.” The now-familiar connection once again snapped between them. “There is a Vance family baronetcy not far from here, I believe. A relative of yours?”
    “Not close.”
    “Ah.” Not close enough to support a dowerless female for the rest of her life. “So who is your father?”
    “Was. I lost my parents some years back. My father was only the minor rector of a small parish.”
    Her words hung in the air, an awkward reminder of the stark differences between them. He wanted to despise her for the traitor she was, and yet, unwilling sympathy welled in him. He might be trapped by his responsibilities, but he was bound by gilded chains. No doubt Miss Vance would gladly trade her tenuous position for his comfortable prison.
    He was of a mind to mention a man of the cloth might not appreciate his daughter’s activities, but thoughts of his own father held back the words. The former Earl of Chambelston had been a man of steadfast faith while Julian was too cynical to place his trust in an unseen God.
    “Is there anything else you require of me?”
    He stared across the fields where a few skinny cattle huddled together for warmth. “Inform your contact I’m here to consult with Sotherton about the recent Spa Fields riots and will remain here for the while.” That would give them time to set in motion any plots they might be hatching.
    “Why would you trust me to do as you ask? I may betray you instead.”
    She was right, of course. He’d never know her true loyalties—if she had any. What if another offered more gold for her...special assistance? Unfortunately he had no skill at subterfuge. He needed his brother Kit. Kit had survived ten years of war playing a far