To Sketch a Sphinx - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,7

potentially have them separated from him for the rest of their lives for protection…

Jeremy was his only family left, and while he might not appear to have any sentiment within a five-mile radius of his person, he was rather attached to that younger brother of his, rascal though he was.

And God help anyone who separated Jeremy from his new wife. Helen would raise hell better than any demon or gorgon possible.

A soft, slow exhale from his left brought John’s attention around and he saw, with some interest, Hal bunching her hands into fists at her side and exercising a would-be controlled breath just as he was preparing to do.

It was then he recalled that she also had a brother within the network. Trick, if he recalled, though he had never met him. They’d exchanged correspondence on several occasions, but never met either officially or unofficially. Trick worked alone, which was a risk in and of itself, and was surely in more danger than any two operatives at a time.

What fear and trepidation that must bring to his sister!

The thought wasn’t enough to soften his feelings towards Hal, but he would allow for a feeling of sympathy.

However brief.

“There is a file of information,” Tailor went on, somehow sensing the renewed dedication in John, at least, if not Hal as well, “that will be made available to you before you sail for France. In it, you will find connections you may avail yourself of during your time in Paris, as well as the most recent and accurate information we can provide you with safely. How you accomplish your tasks will be up to you both, and you will not have a requisite report to make as you progress. Should you have urgent information, you will also have access to a number of avenues to get that information across the Channel and into the proper hands.”

He paused, looking them over before smiling to himself. “This is a high Society infiltration, which will require you both to be arrayed as such.”

“Oh no…” Hal groaned, shaking her head slowly.

John was not so apprehensive, but he would also claim ignorance.

Weaver snorted once, covering his mouth.

That was never good.

“Tilda, therefore, will be your first stop this evening, once we’re done here.” Tailor lifted a thick, greying brow. “She will see you suitably outfitted, I believe.”

“Undoubtedly,” Weaver echoed with a sage nod.

“The costumer?” John prodded, looking between the other two men.

Both nodded. “A valuable asset, I can assure you,” Tailor told him firmly, ending any protests or questions John might have countered with next.

A sudden vision of himself dressed as a peacock with a powdered wig and rouge suddenly flashed into his mind, and his enthusiasm began to deflate with every beat of his heart.

“All very well,” Hal chimed in, still calmer than before, “I have no quarrel with the task set before us. But why the marriage?”

Tailor and Weaver looked at each other, an unspoken, unreadable message passing between them. “That is purely for respectability,” Weaver said slowly, returning his attention to her. “We’ll have it annulled when the mission is over. We’ll call it fraud, neither of you will suffer for it.”

Now it was John whose brows shot up. His personal cover had him working for Bow Street, and so he did, thereby allowing himself some insight into the rule of law and the justice it lived by. Annulments were nigh impossible to obtain, the reasoning behind them equally impossible to prove.

“You want us to marry for respectability, and then get an annulment based on fraud, for respectability?” Hal’s question was less incredulous and more dubious.

John could echo the same, though dismay was currently his primary emotion. “Why not make it a marriage in name only?” he asked, forcing his voice to be more restrained than hers.

Tailor’s mouth tightened briefly. “Because then you could not get married again, should you wish to.”

Hal scoffed loudly. “Because that’s likely to happen, isn’t it?”

“It’s meant to help you,” Weaver insisted in the most cajoling tone John had ever heard the man employ. “Suppose you get into trouble legally on this mission.”

“Why am I the one who failed?” Hal demanded, not at all consoled. “Why not him?”

Her finger jabbing in his direction seemed to actually cause a prodding sensation between his ribs, and his torso tightened in discomfort.

Weaver sighed in resignation. “Look, we’re doing this for protection all around. If all goes well, this marriage never took place, and there will be no witnesses to say it did.”

“You’re killing everyone