She nodded, gathering her cloak about her, subservient as instructed. As she’d been taught, she had created a story about who she was. Tonight she was a downtrodden cook at a boardinghouse full of ironworkers, afraid that if they lost their jobs, she would lose hers. She had come to see if anything could be done since the men had complained about changes at the factory, and one had let slip about the meeting.

For a long moment she considered that there would be no barrier to someone like Daniel Swann pursuing her if she really had been the character she created. But if she were a boardinghouse cook, she would not be an agent, not be in her current position to aid and protect the kingdom. As Bertie had said, God didn’t make a mistake when He placed her into her aristocratic family.

So why did she feel this odd yearning for something she couldn’t have?

“Trouble may come from these workers.” Bertie pressed his shoulder into hers. “Or it may come from those who want to suppress these sorts of gatherings. If we get separated, or if things here get unruly, I want you to head to Hawk’s house. It’s closer than ours. I’ll come for you there.”

Hawk. The Duke of Haverly’s code name, the one he had used when he was an operative, before he was promoted to supervisor of agents. She had yet to see him in any other persona but his usual handsome, assured, capable self, the duke all of society knew. But from the brief glimpses of Hawk he had portrayed in their meetings in the War Room, she sensed he had been an excellent agent and could be relied upon when required. It brought Juliette comfort to know his house could provide a refuge if she should need it.

“Will he be here tonight?” she whispered.

Uncle Bertie frowned, covering his words with an impolite scratching of his ribs and rubbing the heel of his hand under his nose. His expression reminded her she had been instructed not to speak. He shrugged. “Hawk may be here somewhere, but again, if you see him, you do not know him. Watch, learn, and keep your head down. If trouble starts, go through this doorway, up the stairs, and to Hawk’s home.”

His fierce stare demanded she acknowledge his command, and she nodded. Keep her mouth shut, watch, and get out if trouble started.

But what trouble? It was a meeting, wasn’t it? With a few speeches, possibly some airing of grievances? And then what? Everyone here would go their separate ways, back to their jobs, their homes. At the worst, there would be some shouting, possibly some shoving.

She would have preferred to be nearer the way they had come in, but there was the door behind them. Hopefully, it led outside as Uncle Bertie had said.