“As am I.” Miss Townsend nodded, her look sincere. “McAdam was sworn to secrecy. I, as a woman, was not told the extent of the secrets.” Her eyes twinkled. “I was kept out of much, and so not obligated to sign papers vowing I’d keep my silence. I know little and can tell little.” She studied me. “I know that the machinations of the French government are not of much interest to you, Mrs. Holloway, but that Mr. McAdam is.”

My face must have been a vivid shade of red. “Am I so foolish?”

“Not at all.” Her smile deepened. “I know what strong feelings are—I am no stranger to them. McAdam and I posed as man and wife. We attended the best society events, where those with close ties to the government or vast wealth that funded the research went for entertainment. McAdam reasoned that the assassins learned their secrets from men who liked to boast in social gatherings about what they did, and he proved to be correct. The two assassins posed as wealthy men about town, not taken seriously by anyone, and were highly fashionable and entertaining. It became cachet to be friends with these two. And so they learned where the men of science lived and did their work, infiltrating through their front doors. But Mr. McAdam caught them.” She finished with quiet conviction.

I glowed with pride in Daniel and his accomplishments, and at the same time, felt a bit left out. He’d done this far away, in danger when I hadn’t known, with this woman as his companion.

I knew, in practical terms, that Miss Townsend was much taken with Bobby and had no feelings for Daniel, but emotions do not always follow logic.

“Mr. McAdam and I stayed in the same hotel, but in separate rooms.” Miss Townsend seemed to realize I needed more information. “It is fashionable for a husband and wife to do so, and it suited our purpose. He even let others believe the romantic part of our marriage was over, and we remained married for the convenience of it while seeking pleasure elsewhere. This would explain any lack of passion between us. He is excellent at coming up with stories, is Mr. McAdam.”

“He is indeed.” I had mixed feelings about that as well. “And did he?” The question came out faintly. “Seek pleasure elsewhere?”

Miss Townsend’s brows went up. “Dear me, no. His claim made the assassins like him and relax with him, implying they were birds of a feather. But Mr. McAdam, I believe, had already met a woman he wished to be loyal to.”

She smiled so broadly at me that I flushed, uncomfortable. “You cannot mean me.”