This is a bad idea. You’re a horrible liar.

Unfortunately, Freddie and Tristan’s plan relied on her being able to lie to Harker’s face. If she didn’t convince him, her family would be in an even worse position than they were now. She would die before she let that happen.

She hovered in the doorway to the drawing room, praying that no one would notice her as she scanned the interior for her prey. There, standing off from everyone else with a glass of amontillado in his hand. His posture was stiff and hostile, a marked contrast from when he entertained in London. His squirrelly friends doted on him, making him the toast of the night. Harker usually soaked up the attention, telling lewd jokes and laughing at his friends’ expense.

Now, Freddie had to wonder if his friends weren’t all traitors as well. After tonight, she would never have to cross paths with them again. That brought some measure of relief. It had been getting progressively harder to keep Charlie’s presence in the townhouse from being known, now that she’d made her bows.

She caught Harker’s eye. He frowned, his hairy eyebrows uniting over his eyes. She jerked her chin toward the hall then stepped back before someone else saw her.

At the moment, the corridor appeared deserted. The servants had recently lit the candles to create their magical effect, even though the sun had not yet kissed the horizon. It would before supper was through.

Although her nerves jangled in her stomach like discordant bells, Freddie thrust her shoulders back and clasped her hands in front of her waist, the picture of serenity. Down the corridor, in an unused closet, Tristan waited with the door cracked open. If she looked to be about to fail, he would rescue her. Even though she wanted to perform her task without his help, knowing that his support was nearby and unwavering lent her strength.

Her chest warmed at the idea that soon, this debacle would be over, and they would never be enemies again. She didn’t want to examine what the future held too closely, aside from that.

Harker squeezed his bulk through the door and stepped away, joining her. “What is this about?” His voice was low, but sharp all the same.

Her nerves erupted again. She pressed her palms against her abdomen to quell the sensation. “I’ve discovered the rendezvous location to hand off the book you seek. I’ve also gleaned the signal the agent will provide to assure the Graylockes of his identity.”

Was her voice too high pitched? Was the lie written on her face? Once Tristan had confessed the truth of the situation—that the hand-off was designed to catch a French spy—she couldn’t believe she’d been so naïve as to think that the duke would leave vital information around for her to find. Even if that information had appeared to be dropped during his hasty departure.

Harker’s lip curled. She nearly flinched. She held herself steady by biting into her inner cheek.

“Why are you telling me about it? Go get it.”

She swallowed twice before she could speak. “I can’t.”

His expression darkened.

Her heartbeat sped, quickening the words falling out of her mouth. “They’re expecting a man. It has to be you.”

“The Graylockes already know I’m working for England.”

You lying fiend. Freddie’s stomach seethed with hatred. She tried not to let it show on her face. “Pretend your allegiances have changed, if you must. So long as you have the signal, they’ll have to accept you. They don’t know who their contact is, only that he is in Tenwick Abbey. You’re the only person who can make the exchange.”

Although it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention, she held his gaze. He raked it over her skin, leaving her feeling as if she were coated in slime.

“Very well,” he spat. “I’ll go. Where is the meeting and when?”

“It’s to be held while the guests are at supper, beneath the big gnarled oak tree on the grounds. The signal is mockingbird, but you must make the hand signal as well.” She demonstrated, hooking her thumbs together and flapping her hands as if they were wings.

With a disgruntled oath, he turned on his heel and marched down the corridor, hopefully on his way outside. When he turned into another hall, she looked toward the door where Tristan hid.

Did I succeed—or was I too transparent? For some reason, she wanted his reassurance that she hadn’t blundered.

The door began to open, granting Freddie the glimpse of his profile. As she smiled in welcome, he shut the door again in haste. Why…

“Freddie, dear, was that Lord Harker?”

Freddie’s heart kicked into a gallop at her mother’s voice. She turned, though her smile felt wan. “Indeed it was. I, um, thought it best to let someone know that I wasn’t feeling quite the thing and intended to take my supper in my room.”

The worried lines in Mama’s forehead deepened. She reached forward to press the back of her hand against Freddie’s cheek. “You don’t feel hot.”

“I don’t have a fever, Mama. I’m just feeling a trifle out of sorts. A night’s rest will do wonders, I’m sure. Will you be able to give my regrets to the Graylockes? And to Charlie, too, of course.”

Mama frowned, but she murmured, “Of course.”

Freddie kissed her on the cheek and bid her goodnight. She watched as Mama slipped back into the room, then breathed a sigh of relief. This time when she turned to the closet door, Tristan had already slipped through.

Did he look a touch worried? He held out his hand. “Come. We don’t have much time. I need to oversee the exchange, in case something goes awry.”

“I thought you said the duke will be lying in wait.”

“He will be, if he can slip away from the gathering in time. But I haven’t had the opportunity to inform him about the change in plan.”

The lines near his eyes deepened. He took hold of her hand, threading his fingers through hers.

As he turned to lead her down the deserted corridor, she whispered, “Are you afraid this won’t turn out as we’d planned?”

The smile he bestowed upon her was blinding. It was also fake. His eyes didn’t twinkle the same way they did when he usually smiled at her.

“I will turn out fine. It must.”

She tightened her fingers on his, propriety be damned, and let him lead her through the abbey.

When they reached the open twilight, he reluctantly let her slip her hand away and follow him instead. His hand flexed on the empty air before he thrust it into his pocket. He didn’t speak until they reached the bottom of the low rise leading to the tree. A portly figure paced beneath the shadow of the branches, too far away to make out his features.

Harker. It has to be.

The constriction of worry around Freddie’s chest loosened somewhat. At least until Tristan turned to her.

“I’ll have to leave you here.”

“What?” She reached out, hoping to grasp his hand and keep him nearby, but he was too far away. “Why?”

“I have to meet with my brother and explain. He’ll be on the north side of the hill.” Tristan’s dark gaze latched onto Freddie’s face, his expression etched with concern. “There’s a deer trail almost hidden in the brush on the south side. Take that to the fallen branch at the top and hide there. That will be close enough for you to witness the proceedings.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but shut it without a word. She nodded. He could easily have insisted she wait out the debacle elsewhere. At least this way, she got to see this through.

To what end, she didn’t yet know.

She swallowed hard and nibbled on her lower lip. “Goodbye, then.”

He grinned. “Don’t make it sound like you’re off to the gallows. I’ll see you again shortly.”

Her heart leapt as he captured her hand and laid his lips against her knuckles. She warmed. She would rather have his lips elsewhere, but now wasn’t the time. She and Tristan had to save her family.

As he slipped away to the north, she turned south. It didn’t take long to find the trail he spoke of, wedged between the thorny bushes climbing the south side of the rise. They shielded her approach, at least, so long as she crouched.

It took entirely too long to navigate that trail. After ripping one of her few netted over-gowns, Freddie didn’t want to ruin another. Waddling from bush to bush didn’t help. She must have looked ridiculous if anyone spotted her climbing the hill. Luckily, the south side faced away from Tenwick Abbey.

Eventually, she met the fallen branch. At least a foot in diameter, she would have called it a tree, rather than a branch. It must have parted ways from the tree overhead quite some time ago, because there were no gaps in the nearly-leafless canopy overhead. Moss crept up its sides. She laid flat on her belly behind the earthy-smelling branch and peeked her head over to see the proceedings. It was a good thing her hair was brown, unlikely to be noticed.

Harker paused in his pacing at someone else’s approach. A needle-thin man with a weak chin, utterly forgettable in his modest attire and meek deportment, crested the rise to stand in front of the tree.

“You.” The man’s nasal voice sounded surprised. Likely he had been expecting someone else—Freddie.

She scanned the far side of the tree. Where was Tristan? Unlike the south side, the north side had no cover to shield him. Harker’s back was turned to him, but if he had been there, Freddie should have seen him. Had he been delayed? Did Harker have another agent left behind to do harm to anyone who approached?

Freddie’s stomach lurched at the notion. Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps Tristan was still engaged in relaying the situation to his brother. If so, he’d best hurry, or he would miss the exchange.

The thin man—who must be in the duke’s employ, if not a spy for England—said in a timid voice, “My lord, I believe all the guests are to be seated at supper shortly. You’ll have to hurry, if you don’t want your gracious hosts to take offense.”

Freddie marveled over the tone of his voice, coupled with his demeanor. His shoulders hunched forward, as if to make himself smaller. In a few words and a gesture of his hand, he made his idea sound like the best in the world, almost as though Harker had suggested it himself. Could Freddie learn to do that?

Fortunately, Harker was unmoved. He smiled, showing his teeth. “I’m not merely a guest. Trust me when I say you’ll want to meet with me.” With an almost comical rendition of the hand signal, he spoke the code word.

The spy’s mien changed immediately. He drew himself up and said in a commanding tone, “Lord Elias Harker, you are hereby arrested in the name of Britain for the impersonation of a royal spy.”

“No,” Harker said, though his voice was strained. “I assure you, my allegiances have changed. I’ve been passing along information for Britain for some months—”

The spy paid his tirade no mind. His voice laden with sarcasm as he stepped forward, he said, “Then I’d love to know why you passed along a fake signal left for an enemy spy.”

“There’s been a mistake!”

The man snorted. He dug into the pocket of his coat.

Harker was quicker. He pulled a pistol from his pocket and shot the spy. As the man crumpled to the ground, clutching his shoulder, Freddie’s ears rang. She didn’t immediately realize that she’d screamed until Harker turned in her direction, gun still raised.

Tristan and his brother erupted from behind the five-foot-wide tree trunk. Freddie scrambled to get her feet under her, only to trip over her hem and collapse on top of the half-rotted, mossy branch. Harker’s expression morphed into fiery outrage.

And then the shot went off.