To Sketch a Sphinx - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,9

a bit of ironic sentimentality.”

“I was counselled as to your mission,” Trick told his sister, though loud enough for John to hear. “I insisted on having you be protected legally, which is why this marriage is happening. I couldn’t possibly let you go through with it without being present myself.” He grinned down at her, his teeth almost blinding in their whiteness compared to the dirt that seemed to be everywhere else about him. “It may be the only wedding you have, Hank.”

Hal frowned up at him, then surprised the entire room by delivering a stunning right hook to her brother’s upper arm. He recoiled with unmasked pain, and John found himself oddly proud of his bride-to-be.

He also made a note to avoid situations where he might receive the same.

“Dammit, Hank,” Trick grunted, rolling his shoulder as though testing it. “I’ve got to work later.”

“That is your problem, not mine, Hunt,” came the unconcerned reply. She smiled at him with more fondness than John had seen in her expression at any given time.

Despite her harridan-like nature in all else, there was no mistaking her adoration for her brother, nor the closeness between them. Surely, there was something to be said for that.

“Right,” Priest said slowly, eyeing the group once more. “It would seem the bride has a suitable escort to give her away, which is hardly what I was most concerned about with this particular wedding. Nevertheless…” He exhaled loudly and gestured to an imagined aisle teasingly. “Now shall we begin?”

Chapter Three

“Absolutely not.”

“You have to.”

“I don’t believe I do. Not a required part of the mission in any way, shape, or form.”

“You seem to be under the impression that you have any say in the matter, Sphinx. I can assure you, I have been given complete freedom to dress the pair of you as I wish, and what I wish is for you to not stand out on your mission for being such a complete illustration of drudgery and dullness.”

Hal snorted a laugh behind her hand as she allowed two of Tilda’s girls to take her measurements, glancing over the screen separating her from her new husband as they were fitted for their respective wardrobes. They’d been married all of an hour at most, exchanged only a handful of words beyond their vows, and still he was as surly and fussy as she had ever known him to be.

Granted, their exchanges had all been limited and related to missions they’d both been consulted on. She had no idea how he behaved socially, if he did so at all. She couldn’t see him having many social engagements to attend, or indeed being invited to them, given his stoic nature and disinclination to look favorable or pleasing at any moment.

And, at this particular moment, he was protesting rather vigorously to a cravat being tied in a way that can only be described as towering and involved many complicated twists.

It looked ridiculous on him, even she could say that.

“If you could straighten up a bit, miss,” the assistant before her asked with all deference. “You’re slouching, and I mustn’t measure your form that way. It would lead to the most unbecoming fit of gown.”

Sobering quickly, Hal did as she was bid, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin. “Apologies, Belle.”

That earned her a smile. “Not at all, miss.”

Truth be told, Hal hadn’t had to worry about her posture, form, or figure in years. Though she was only twenty-six, which would hardly qualify her to be relegated to the shelf of spinsterdom, she had not gone out in Society for a very long time. Not since Hunter had been seen in a respectable gathering, come to think, as he had publicly been accused of dreadful things that night and the entire family fell into ruin and disgrace.

Not in truth, of course, but it had to be said and done with enough manufactured proof to be believed. As Hunter had been acting the boorish brute for a few years prior in preparation for his role in the covert field, it did not take much for everything to be believed.

Hal was relieved of the duty to engage socially after that, and so she had become every bit the hermit she was rumored to be. She had no friends to speak of and an absent brother her only family.

Except now she had a husband.

In name only, it was true, but still.

The fact sank into the pit of her stomach hard, and she blinked as Belle continued to