Lady Rogue

"Stop gawking about, Kit. We're nearly there." Stewart Brantley turned to give his daughter a half-annoyed glance and resettled his drenched beaver hat lower over his eyes as they hurried along the wet street in the darkness.

Curious as she was to view the sights, Christine Brantley had no objection to staying close behind her father as he hesitated and then turned north along a wide avenue lit by gas lamps and occasional flashes of lightning. It had been a long time since she had last set foot in London, and what landmarks she remembered were obscured by the night and by the rain that had been falling since they had left the ship at Dover. "I'm not gawking," she returned, the chatter of her teeth touching her voice. "I'm freezing."

"I didn't want to take the hack into Mayfair," Stewart returned. "Asking to be driven to Park Lane at this hour would ' "

"Would bring us attention we don't want," she finished. Rain stung her cheeks, and she reached up to wipe a gloved hand across her face. "Do you truly think your Earl of Everton will see us "

Her father glanced back again. "He owes me a large debt. He'll see us."

"I hope so," Kit replied, as thunder rumbled over the rooftops of England's wealthiest nobility. "I'd hate to think you dragged us out of Paris for nothing."

"I wouldn't have either of us here if I didn't have a damned good reason."

She sniffed, then grimaced, hoping she wasn't catching a cold. "I know." As much as her father detested England and the English, his being back in London pointed to just how highly he rated the importance of this journey. It was for their lives, he had said, and she hadn't doubted him.

"And you also know what you're to do here," he added.

"I do." She paused, then had to hurry to catch up when he continued on without her. "But I don't like being a spy."

"You're not being a spy, Kit," he said shortly, what was left of his limited patience apparently leeched out of his bones by the downpour. "Fouch ' will have my head ' our heads ' if the damned English stop another of his shipments. All you have to do is tell me which bastard is working against us, so I can bribe him off or outmaneuver him. That's not spying. It's ' " He hesitated, then gave a short grin that didn't reach his green eyes. "It's good business. And no harm will come of it, except that more blunt will end up in our pockets." He looked ahead at a huge white mansion which dominated one side of the lane. "I trust that is acceptable to you "