Perry’s skin had been crawling for the last several minutes, like she had landed in a pile of maggots. Not that she’d ever done such a thing, but this surely must be the feeling.

Her father’s hand rested on hers for the second time that morning.

“Are you quite all right?” he asked.

She glanced up at him, and then Fox returned, drawing her attention. His look of concern must mirror her own.

“I am,” she said. “But I am not sure I should have dinner at Sir Richard’s until after my injuries have healed.”

“I’m not sure any of us should,” Farnsworth said, “but especially not the ladies.”

“That is a dangerous road for an evening excursion,” Fox said.

“He did not mention the assault on your servants last night, Fox,” Farnsworth said. “Does he call on you often, Goodfellow?”

“Never,” Fox said.

“Interesting. Fancy him paying his first call just after we’ve arrived.”

“Lady Perpetua,” Kincaid asked, “have you met him before?”

“No,” she wheezed, a pain in her injured rib sharpening the pronouncement, another uncontrollable wriggle making her back spasm. Sir Richard might’ve picked her up from the chair and carried her off, his interest had been that palpable. Without the men here, she would have run for a knife in the kitchen. Father’s dislike had been clear.

Which, she reminded herself, didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to use the man’s interest for one of his schemes.

“If you need my help, Father, then I shall determine to go to dinner. I can work out a way to cover this.” She touched the scarf at her neck.

A necklace of wide ribbon and a brooch would work—it had for Sirena. There would be something among her mother’s things she could use. And if Fox would come with her…

But the invitation had gone to her father and the ladies, had it not? She strained to remember.

“Will you remove your scarf, Perpetua?” Father said. The question was a gentle command, but there was kindness in his eyes. “I should like the others to see what we are dealing with.”

Heat shot through her. She must be a bright shade of crimson.

“Sir.” Fox pushed back his chair and opened his mouth to say more.

“It’s all right, Fox.” She unwound the scarf she’d found in her mother’s things, sending the lilac scent rising. The damp sea air touched the skin above the dress’s deep neckline. It should have cooled the flush racing through her but it only made it worse.

She’d been so foolish. She dropped her gaze and hitched in a breath.

Kincaid cleared his throat. “Who did this, my lady?”

Jane leaned in. Despite her promise to Jane, she had put off explaining her injuries. She’d not shared the story with anyone but Father. Nor had Fox, apparently.

She repeated the story about being taken on the road.

“A big man,” Kincaid said. “Might it’ve been this Sir Richard? He seemed taken with you.”

“I was dressed as a boy.”

Kincaid and Farnsworth shared a look.

“She was,” Farnsworth said.

Could it have been the Baronet? The voice was different, gruffer, surer, the body more solidly muscular. Sir Richard looked like a stuffed hog swathed in quality worsted.

She shook her head. “It couldn’t have been him. He left me to be killed by one of his men. Sir Richard would have held me for ransom or…”

Or worse. Her heart pounded wildly. The previous night’s villain wouldn’t have hesitated to take her virtue. The thought sent her mind reeling.

“He didn’t know he’d captured an earl’s daughter,” Kincaid mused. “How did you escape?”

All eyes turned on her and she finally found her voice. “Fox saved us,” she whispered.

“Us?” Kincaid asked, showing no surprise at Fox’s heroics.

He’d worked with Fox before. Fox was indeed part of their circle, respected by Father and his men. She glanced at her lover down the table. His eyes burned through her, but she couldn’t decipher his emotion.

“Us, Lady Perpetua?” Kincaid asked again.

“Yes. Davy’s young son, Pip, had joined me.”

Fox crossed his arms. “I sent Pip in.” He told them about the message Pip was supposed to deliver warning about the very men who captured Perry and him. “It was a grievous mistake.”

“So, Scruggs and this John Black are not working together?” Farnsworth said.

“I’d say Scruggs is afraid of the man,” Kincaid said. “Lady Perpetua, how did Fox rescue you?”

“I didn’t.” Fox shook his head. “Lady Perry and Pip rescued themselves. They jumped off the cliff into the water.”

All eyes turned on her, and the room grew warmer again.

“That’s why you were soaked.” Farnsworth’s gaze held sympathy and interest. And perhaps, respect. “Were there other injuries?”

She waved a hand. “Another bruise.”

“A very large one out of sight on her back,” Jane said, pursing her lips and frowning at Fox. “She should see a surgeon. She might have broken a rib.”

Jane could not know Fox had seen it. Or perhaps she was frowning because she thought Fox should have done more.

Perry lifted her chin and looked at a spot on the wall. “Fox examined my injuries. Nothing is broken, is it, Fox? And he truly did save us. He shot the Frenchman, just as the man was firing at us.”

“A Frenchman?” Farnsworth sat up.

He’d been completely distracted from the notion of Fox examining her. She hoped Father was as well.

“Is the man dead?” Farnsworth asked.

Perry glanced at Fox.

“He’s dead,” Fox said.

“No name?” Farnsworth asked.

Fox shook his head. “He was checked thoroughly. There was nothing on him.”

“What did you do with the body?” Kincaid asked.

“Weighted it down and tossed it in the sea,” Fox said.

“With luck, the tides will wait until after we’ve settled this matter to wash him up,” Farnsworth said.

“And by then the fishes will have eaten around the bullet hole.” Kincaid took a piece of buttered toast. “I take it Davy and Gaz rowed them back here?” He addressed the question to Farnsworth.

Farnsworth nodded. “Those two will have reported to Scruggs.” He looked up from his plate. “Where is Carvelle?”

Fox took a deep breath. “MacEwen saw him last at the inn with Scruggs, night before last.”

Farnsworth stood. “I’ll just go check with Mac.”

When Farnsworth left, Fox moved up next to Jane.

The quiet around the table chilled her. She’d set something in motion with her foolhardy escape. She’d endangered a child, and Fox, as well as herself.

“I’m sorry, Father,” she said.

His look was long and indecipherable. “I do not like to see you injured. Though we do know more today than we did yesterday.”

She dropped her gaze to the uneaten toast on her plate, then looked up. “What, Father?”

He blinked.

Of course she would have to draw it out of him. “The assassin,” she said. “Are they bringing him in to kill the King?”

Her father exchanged a look with Kincaid.

“Carvelle arrives,” Kincaid said speculatively, “Carvelle working with Scruggs. Or is Carvelle working with John Black to bring in a French assassin? Scruggs is a mere smuggler, not a traitor to England. Done us more than enough good turns through the years.”

His arm brushed hers as he turned to her, this man who had always been a strong, shadowy presence in her father’s life. It was no wonder Father kept him around. His loyalty was unshakable.

“Can you remember anything about this Frenchman, Lady Perpetua? Any words he spoke to you?”

“He…” She inhaled and the sharp pain bit at her. “He said he knew I was a woman. Yet…he didn’t mention it to the others. He was not the one who did this.” She touched her neck. “That was the big man. A smaller man with horrible breath punched me in the back.” She closed her eyes and thought of that moment on the cliff. “The Frenchman said, I am good at what I do. You will feel no pain.”

Kincaid and Father exchanged looks, the air vibrating with their silent communication. Lady Jane frowned down at her plate. Fox’s mouth had firmed, but she read anguish in his features.

“Did you recognize him?” She directed the question to Fox. He looked at Father.

Fox shrugged. “He could have been any number of French torturers.”

“But the French have been defeated,” Perry said.

“Maybe they’re settling old scores, also,” Fox said.

His face went pale. His gaze lifted to Father. He took a deep breath and turned back to her. “But most likely this was not personal for him. Most likely he’d hired himself out to do what he was so good at.”

He knew more than he’d told her. Like always.

“Hired by whom? To assassinate whom?” She looked around at the inscrutable faces.

Lady Jane rested her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers. “Perry, I fear you are mistaken about Sir Richard.”

Lady Jane’s clear blue eyes held hers, her mouth firmed in an angry line.