about his return from the dead. His mission was difficult enough without rumours to add complications. How he was going to go about investigating Ceastre itself he had yet to fathom—
She might be able to help.
If she was, in fact, engaged in some sort of subterfuge of her own, might it not follow that she would be skilled in doing so on his behalf?
Max cast his eyes out over the lovely scenery of the park, unseeing, as new excitement bubbled up within him at the idea.
Who would suspect a lady such as her of acting on his behalf?
Of anything untoward at all?
Miss Whitmore might truly make the perfect agent for what he required.
But would she agree to help him?
He had to find out.
'Miss Whitmore,' he said, and he noticed her startle. They had been walking silently after his question about seeing her. ‘Twas evident her distress had not abated.
She schooled her expression quickly, however, which he now witnessed with a sense of satisfaction, rather than unease. Whatever else might be true about Miss Whitmore’s ability to deceive, it would prove an asset if she accepted the mission on which he wished to send her.
'I have need of your discretion,' he said to her. 'I have returned to England in the hopes of finding proof of the blackmail I endured, as well as of my innocence. I will not attempt to reclaim my name and title until I have it.'
Emilia nodded. 'So you wish to avoid it getting out that you’ve come back from the dead.'
'Quite.'
Max felt reluctant to ask for the next favour, but he pushed himself. She was the best chance he had found so far.
'Furthermore, I have rather an important favour to ask of you,' he said.
The lady’s black eyebrows arched as she regarded him, making her dark eyes seem even larger than they already were. For an instant he felt as though he might fall into their depths and be lost.
Clearing his suddenly dry throat, he pressed on. 'Tis my conviction that my enemy is a member of the staff at Ceastre,' he said.
'Oh,' she responded with surprise.
'As you can imagine, it is out of the question for me to try to investigate the house myself,' he said. 'And Roberts has no knowledge of the place. But you...'
He let the words dangle, relying on her quick wit to fill in the rest.
Alea iacta est, Max thought. 'The die is cast.' He had made his proposition, now it remained to be seen what Miss Whitmore would do.
He watched her face as she worked out his meaning. The sharp look in her eye confirmed his estimation of her intelligence. She knew precisely what he was asking.
'Well, then, Miss Whitmore. What say you? Will you assist me in this endeavour?'
***
Emilia’s heart was beating against her ribs so hard she wondered how ‘twas possible one could not hear it.
The events of the day had quite surpassed any she had experienced before in their intensity. First the odious debt collector, Mr. Snell. Then Dassel’s confounded extortion. Miss Augusta Emma d’Este and her caprice. And now the resurrection of Maximilian Emery, the Earl of Ceastre, who was asking her to help him investigate and find the perpetrator of his blackmail three years prior.
'I must needs consider all of this,' she told him. They had travelled all the way up the footpath and back, and were nearing the gate to the rest of Hyde Park. 'I must take your leave, sir,' she added. 'Where can I send a message with my decision?'
For an instant, he looked crestfallen, the light in his green eyes dimming. Seeing it gave her a pang and for a wild moment she wanted to take his hands in hers and declare that she would help him, in any way she could, if only it would bring back that light.
Oh really, Emilia. Have you lost your good sense? A decision now, after everything that has happened today, would be made in far too much haste.
Still, her hands began to tremble and she clasped them together to hide it.
The secret earl handed her his card. 'Henry Milton,' it read, with an address on Portman Square.
'In any case, you can count on my discretion,' she said, by way of consolation. His shoulders eased almost imperceptibly, she noted with satisfaction.
He was a tall man, and she, as not a very tall woman had to tilt her face up to meet his eyes. It made her feel strangely giddy.
'I await your response,' he said quietly.
She