To Sketch a Sphinx - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,3

best operatives be known to our enemies in such a way? We have no idea how many others might face the same. The only viable alternative for this is to send in a team we can guarantee is unknown to all.”

That, unfortunately, made a great deal of sense. Her own brother was one of the more dangerous operatives the Crown had and could have any number of threats facing him at any given time. Would she really risk him against those odds when there were none against herself?

She swallowed and nodded at the answer. “And the third?”

Weaver shifted in his chair. “Why now?”

She nodded once more.

He exhaled roughly. “Because I am damned tired of being a step and a half behind in all this, and ready to see us coming against the Faction from a position of strength rather than desperation. Aren’t you?”

The question took Hal by surprise. She wasn’t among the ranks, anyone would have said so, even if she was a favorite connection of several operatives and their superiors. She had a part to play in the security of England and her interests, it was true, but it had never been a particularly active one.

Her own motivations had never really been considered, even by herself.

But she had seen Trace return only a few weeks ago, and the emotion of that reunion had been significant. She had been curious about the disappearance of One, the longstanding clerk to the London League. She had devoured her brother’s letters to her with eagerness, trying to root out any code he might have left therein. She was vastly well protected, and not just because of her brother or her parents. She knew too much, and it was in England’s best interest that she remain safe and hidden away as she was.

What was her motivation? What did any of this bring her?

Sad to say, she had no answer. It had simply been what she had always done. Her brother was the one with a rich vein of patriotism and loyalty running through him with all the luster of copper. She had quite simply never thought about the thing long enough to consider anything else.

Only she did know on which side of the line she stood. She knew which flag would fly among the banners of her heart. She couldn’t pretend that the idea of actually doing something, physically giving of herself, would not be a relief, given what the rest of her family had willingly endured.

She had felt so pale in comparison to the glorious picture of the rest.

No matter how foolishly they had behaved.

The Mortimer family had given their all; now she would join the ranks. Henrietta Mortimer would finally have the chance to do some good.

The weakest thrill of hope flashed within her, a rather dull sensation, all things considered. She could only hope that her body would have more noteworthy physical responses to such nobility of thought in the future. After much practice, no doubt.

“What would you have me do?” Hal inquired with a tilt of her head. “And when shall I begin?”

Weaver smiled broadly and leaned forward, clasping his hands loosely. “I would have you be the most disgruntled version of yourself in the most refined ways while you and your partner prance about Paris in whatever circles you can manage. There is nothing they would love so much as a British émigré.”

Hal dipped her chin, her thoughts flying over possibilities. “My mother has cousins in Paris. I could prevail upon them to be my hosts. They are a rare branch of old French nobility that miraculously managed to keep their heads during the Revolution. Literally. No appendages were severed in the maintaining of this family.”

“Oh, indeed?” Weaver smiled with satisfaction. “Which family?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.” Hal returned his smile with a bland one of her own. “Mother never spoke of it, for obvious reasons. No idea if the cousin I’m thinking of was a comte, a vicomte, a marquis, or simply one of the petite noblesse. All I know is he and his wife were very good at aligning themselves most conveniently for the times at hand.”

Weaver raised a brow. “Evidently. And what might persuade this family, of which you know so very little, to accept you as a guest with so muddled a connection?”

Hal reached out and patted his hands. “As my superior, I shall rely on your years of diplomatic and covert experience to find a most convincing reason to encourage them. No doubt you