He cut another glance across the table as he pulled out Madame Noir’s chair. Mr. Morley was doing the same for Lottie, and she seemed all too delighted by his chivalry. Despite the man’s highly questionable sartorial choices, Alec had to admit he was handsome. Most women seemed to prefer blond-haired and blue-eyed men. His jaw tensed against the flare of jealousy blistering his insides. But he brushed the ugly feeling aside. If this led to a match, Sir Alfred would nominate him for a medal. And this was exactly what he wanted for her. A duke’s heir could give her everything.

Everything you never could.

Alec turned away and took his seat beside Madame Noir, giving her the most charming smile he could muster. Let Lottie enjoy the man’s company. He had work to do.

At first Lottie had been worried by the prospect of sitting next to an Englishman all evening. What if Mr. Morley recognized her or questioned her false identity? But as it turned out, Mr. Morley lived largely abroad—and had few interests beyond himself. Lottie made sure to smile and nod at all the right places, and by the time dessert was served she had said nothing beyond a few generic platitudes.

“How very interesting,” she responded automatically, as the man prattled on between generous mouthfuls of molded ice cream. She blinked slowly. That waistcoat of his was starting to give her a headache.

When she opened her eyes, Mr. Morley was giving her his full attention. And a rather too interested smile. “I say, I can’t remember the last time I had such a charming dinner companion.”

Lottie held back a snort. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Alec look their way after having easily ignored her for the past hour. She swallowed her irritation and smiled at Mr. Morley. “Why thank you, sir.”

She could never manage this degree of pretense in London. Then again, she had never been motivated by petty jealousy before. Luckily, Mr. Morley didn’t notice her act. The gentleman seemed to miss quite a lot.

“So then, where are you off to next, Miss Gresham? Venice is all well and good if you like swamp water, but you really must go to Florence.”

It was the third time he had asked her that question and the second time he had told her to go to Florence, but she managed to keep smiling. “I’m afraid I’m due back in England. But do tell me what you love about the city.” She turned back to her dessert as the man began to prattle on again.

Was this all it took to do Alec’s job? Tell people what they wanted to hear? Give them what they wanted to see? A smile here, a laugh there. Stroke their egos until they were soft and pliant. Until they let their guards down.

It was rather easy. Disturbingly so.