To Sketch a Sphinx - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,39

returned to the side of Leclerc as if nothing had occurred. “Thank you for indulging me.”

He smiled as if her words amused him. “Nonsense, madame. Every lady is entitled to privacy to compose herself.” He sipped his wine again before looking at her once more. “We were speaking of opera, yes?”

Hal nodded eagerly. “Yes. My cousin wishes to take us to more. Which would you recommend? My cousin is so easy, he loves so many of them.”

Leclerc paused to think, though Hal suspected he did not need to. “There are several excellent operas in Paris at present. La donna del lago, if you wish to continue with Rossini, but you may enjoy Cherubini’s Les Abencérages as well. It is not so popular as others, but sometimes those hidden treasures are les meiux, non?”

“Oui,” Hal agreed, immediately adding the opera to her list. “And what of other events, Monsieur Leclerc? I am anxious to have friends in Paris.”

“I don’t think you will need to worry there, madame,” he told her with a laugh. “I think friends will come to you.” He gestured towards the door to the card room.

Pratt stood there, his eyes on Hal, interest evident, and there was no tugging at his cravat to call her to him.

She felt the pull all the same.

“That is my husband,” Hal admitted, smiling without having to pretend anything at all.

“I see. Yes, the pair of you will do very well in Paris, I think.” Leclerc chuckled again. “I should like to meet your husband, madame. Perhaps you can persuade him to come away from there?”

Hal hummed to herself, loving the connection she felt to the man smiling at her in a way that made her toes curl. “Perhaps I can, monsieur. Excusez-moi.” Without waiting for his response, Hal moved away, heading directly for Pratt where he stood.

“I didn’t summon you,” he murmured when she reached him, still smiling.

“I didn’t need you to,” she replied. “Were the cards not to your liking?”

Pratt shrugged. “Fair enough. The others are fetching stronger drinks, so I thought I’d see how you were.”

Hal quirked her brows. “Well, if you can spare a moment, I have an introduction that is requested of you.” She held out her hand to him, her heart leaping when he took it without hesitation.

“Indeed?” he asked as she squeezed his hand. “To whom am I being introduced?”

“Monsieur Leclerc.”

His eyes widened, his smile spreading. “What luck. And did he meet your expectations?”

The unspoken message was clear, and Hal grinned. “Indeed, he did. Exceeded them, in fact. We’ll discuss the details of it later.”

Pratt nodded and surprised her by bringing the hand he held to his lips, kissing the back of it. “My brilliant Ange,” he murmured. “Well done.”

There was no mistaking the look in his eyes. He was not pretending this; she was not pretending the feelings she had.

They weren’t pretending with each other. They couldn’t be.

Which meant this was real.

“Merci, John,” Hal whispered, her heart too full for further words.

His gentle smile would have made her sigh had they not been in public with work to continue.

“Come,” she murmured, tugging on his hand. “You need to meet him.”

“Yes, I suspect I do.”

Chapter Nine

If only all things were as simple as one imagined they would be at the start, but then where would heaven and fate find their humor? Because it was clear that only heaven or fate could find humor in any of this. No one else would.

John couldn’t.

He should have known that things were more complicated than they appeared; they wouldn’t have brought him into this operation if things were simple. They wouldn’t have brought Hal in if the players were all known to those important enough to have influence.

They wouldn’t have brought either of them in if they could have intercepted, memorized, and decrypted these letters themselves. And if he’d forgotten that, the stack of letters before him would remind him, rather like a slap across the face.

He had nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

The letters were copies of the originals that Hal had picked and memorized, that mind of hers having far more ability than he’d ever expected. She copied them out for him the moment they returned home, and he’d begun to work on them.

He had yet to break a single one of them. Which made him a completely irrelevant asset to this mission. Hal could have done this on her own.

She should be doing this on her own.

He’d stay, of course, if for no other reason than to keep up the pretense