by Eva Devon
Amie inhaled slowly. She must lie, and she was a terrible liar. Think. “The things I learned from my father's journals never left his study, until this moment.” True enough.
“And the Vixen's targets? Did they come from your father's journal?”
Amie blinked. “How should I know? I'm not the Vixen.”
Beyond the Fox, the others stirred in surprise. The Fox narrowed her gaze. “Not? But the robberies this winter—all the victims were Liar targets. The information must have come from Jackham.”
Stay calm. They're fishing. “I don't know who the Vixen is, I promise you. I only took advantage of the uproar to try to steal what I needed!”
James grunted. “That sounds familiar.”
The Fox folded her arms and chewed on her bottom lip. She even looked beautiful doing that, when Amie knew perfectly well that she herself would look rather awkward.
The Fox went on. “The Vixen has robbed a royal fortune in jewels from five different houses. Jewels just like the ones Elliot took from you.”
Amie drew back. “Heavens, no! Goodness, if I'd taken all those jewels, do you think I would be wearing my mother's old dress instead of a real costume?”
The Fox, clearly curious, took a good look at her gown, perhaps for the first time. “Yes, it is old. Even your shoes are old.”
Elliot turned to look at her in surprise. “But you're so skilled!”
Amie looked around at them all. “Is that what this is about?” She shook her head. “I’m good at climbing walls and sneaking into houses! Until Lord Beardsley's ball, all I'd ever taken were silver candlesticks and curios and food from the larders! It was only for survival—but Papa's debts came due and…”
“Tonight, you cracked an Armada chest the size of a cart-horse,” Dalton's tone was flatly disbelieving. “Are you saying that was the first time?”
Amie nodded. “Papa's notes…” Her voice trailed off. “Well, they're very thorough,” she said quietly. “With sketches…and things.”
Simon snorted. “Jackham was an excellent teacher, Dalton. Those are his lessons which I pass on to all the trainees.”
“I don't believe a word of it.” Dalton glared at Amie. She tried very hard not to quail from his eerie gaze. “She is the Vixen.”
At that moment, the music from the ballroom ceased and the chatter grew to a fever pitch. Something was happening outside. Dalton looked Clara. “Will you please look into that?”
She was gone in a rustle of silk, her elegant parrot mask a flash of colored feathers as she glanced back over her shoulder at her husband. “Don't do anything until I get back.”
Amie blinked at the serene tone of command in the lady's voice. I don't know how to do that. Emma probably did.
At the thought of her sisters, safe and sound and concealed, free to run and leave London far behind them, a peace came over her. It was all worth it.
She looked down at the hand that Elliot still clasped. What an unusual fellow, her Liar. He'd confronted his own superiors for her, had stood by her and fought for her—and he still didn't even know her name.
Leaning close, she went up on tiptoe to whisper into his ear. “Amethyst.”
He turned to her in surprise, a smile lighting up his handsome face. “How lovely to make your acquaintance, Amethyst.” His answering whisper was nearly soundless. No one else in the room could have heard them over the growing cacophony in the ballroom.
Amie took that little grace, that willingness of his to keep her name to himself for a little longer, and wrapped it up warm to keep near her heart. A gift to take out again some cold winter night, perhaps.
Clara slipped back into the room and went to her husband. She murmured something in his ear when he bent down to her. He straightened in surprise. Then he turned to them all.
“I believe I owe Miss Jackham an apology. It seems that in the past hour, the Vixen has struck a house a half-mile from here.”
Amie heard Elliot let out a slow breath of air. He'd clearly believed her to be the Vixen as well.
The Fox put an elegant hand on Amie's arm. “Miss Jackham, although it is clear that you are not the Vixen, there is still the matter of the information your father has made you privy to.”
Amie went very still inside. “I won't tell anyone what I know.”
Phillipa Cunnington came to stand beside the Fox. “Oh, Julia, put the poor girl out of her misery and recruit her for the Liars. James is panting to see if she has any aptitude for code-breaking as well.”
Amie blinked. “Me? A Liar?”
Elliot grinned widely. “I think it's a capital idea!”
Amie gazed closely at Lady Julia. “What if I don't wish to? What if I want to walk out of here right this moment?”
Dalton rumbled, but Julia held up a commanding hand without taking her gaze from Amie's. “Miss Jackham, you have done nothing that we plan to punish you for. Knowing all you know, clearly we would prefer to have you with us than against us.”
Elliot began to speak but subsided at Julia's cool glance. “The decision is not yours to make, Elliot. It is Miss Jackham's. However, I cannot permit you to ponder it for long. We have much work to do and we would appreciate your assistance.”
“Or she must leave London,” Dalton interjected. “If she will not join us, she must be kept far from our base of operations. And under surveillance, of course.”
Surveillance. That would surely lead the Liars to Emma and Ruby. Amie wasn't about to trust them quite that far. Join them and keep her sisters a secret? There would be time to understand the Liars, to truly determine if they could be trusted. If not, she would certainly be in a position to know if they ever learned of her sisters.
And…Elliot would be there. And more. There was the enticement of the hunt, the chance to use her skills, the taste of danger—yet for a good cause, without the bitterness of guilt.
She gave Lady Julia a serene nod. “I will join the Liars.”
After the combined power of the secret leaders of the British Empire left the antechamber, the air felt a bit thin. Elliot felt dizzy with relief and something else.
Elation. His own lady Liar! What a gift!
He picked her up in a great, laughing bear hug and twirled her twice around. “You were remarkable! Dazzling! I can't believe you held your ground in the face of them all!”
She gasped and pushed at him. “Put me down, you great oaf!” Nevertheless, she was laughing and blushing when he set her back on her feet. With one hand pressed to her heart, she gazed at him with shining eyes. “You saved me.”
For the first time in his life, despite all the successful missions he'd run, Elliot understood what it meant to feel like a hero. “I did, didn't I? Damn, I'm good!”
She stepped closer and ran her palms up his chest and around his neck. “You are, Elliot.” She tilted her head. “Elliot what?”
Oh, damn. She didn't even know. He stepped back and swept her his best courtly bow. “Lord Elliot Hughes, at your service.” He straightened with a grin, but he remained wary of her reaction. It could come between them…if she wanted it to.
Her eyebrows were quite high. “Lord Elliot?”
He grimaced sheepishly. “My grandfather's an earl.”
“Oh.” Dismay filled her expression. “That's a dreadful difference in social rank.”
His heart sank. “It isn't—I won't ever inherit or anything. It isn't real.” She looked so serious. Oh, God. “Is that a problem, Miss Jackham?”
“I should say it's a problem!” She smiled then, an impish grin he'd not yet seen on her pretty face. “After all, my grandfather's a duke.”
Oh, this woman! Elliot's smile grew until he felt his face would remain that way forever.
“You'll see,” Elliot told her as they headed out into the earl's ballroom. “It will be wonderful for you to have a family. You won't be alone anymore. It will be just like having siblings.”
Amie halted him in the moment of parting the curtains. “Elliot, I never ac
tually said I didn't have siblings, you know.” Then she held her breath. Perhaps it was an unfair test. She believed she could trust him, but there was so much at stake.
He froze and stared at her. Then he swallowed. “Well.”
Amie waited, imagining the spinning clockworks in his mind.
Then he smiled. “Oh, let's not complicate matters. Shall we waltz once more before the earl is arrested? T'would be a disgrace to squander such a superb orchestra.”
Amie smiled tenderly at him. What a good sport he was! She hoped he wouldn't realize that, whilst he'd spun her, she'd stolen this evening's loot back out of his pockets.
At least, not until after their dance.
Epilogue
“Your Voice of Society wishes you all a Happy Christmas, especially our dear Vixen! Lady Justice, pray you tend your scales and recognize that a certain someone is working for your benefit! And for those who believe that the innocent should be protected and that evil should not prosper, your Voice bids compliments and Christmas reveries come true to you all!”
The End
About Celeste Bradley
Celeste Bradley is the New York Times bestselling author of more than 24 Regency historical romances, including the extremely popular Liar's Club spy series and the Wicked Worthingtons.
For more information about Celeste’s books, visit:
celestebradley.com/books/
