There’s been a development, and I require Joan’s assistance. However, since you are aware of her involvement with my line of work, I thought it the right thing to let you know and seek your permission, of sorts. Likely Joan would have my head should she know I was asking you. However, I know that if the tables were turned, I’d wish to know as well. Please reply with your sentiments concerning the situation.

Regards,

Morgan

Rowles frowned as he reread the letter. He understood what Morgan was asking and was unsure how he felt about it. It was one thing to be there on a mission, another to trust her without his presence, without seeing to her safety with his own eyes. She’d not needed him before, and he was certain she’d like to continue assisting the War Office even when they were married, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel concern.

He scribbled a reply and sent it off, praying he’d made the right choice. It had been a simple reply, only four words: Do what you must.

But they conveyed a thousand meanings.

He refused to be the domineering husband who controlled his wife’s every move, and Joan wouldn’t have loved him had he been that sort of man. But it was at great cost to his mind and heart that he sent those words.

Yet he also knew Morgan. He’d not put his sister in danger and would forfeit his own life, should it come to that, to keep her safe. That assurance gave Rowles the power to let her go.

He grinned to himself even as he thought the words.

As if he could stop her in the first place.

It was for that reason, and many more, that she’d captured his heart.

Thirty-six

If I am not in the state of grace, may God place me there; and if I am, may God so keep me.

—Joan of Arc

Joan studied the man before them. With hands bound and resting on the well-worn table, his mannerisms were easy to interpret, at least so far. Morgan’s foul mood radiated within the room like a blazing fire as he pelted the man with questions. There had been another attempt, another forgery sent to try to move the prisoner from house arrest to another prison. Morgan had intercepted it, and Joan had confirmed their suspicions. There was nothing left to do but interrogate the criminal that others wanted silenced forever.

“Who?” Morgan asked, leaning forward on the table separating them from Walter Brewer. “Who were you in contact with before your arrest?”

The man appeared different from what Joan had expected. A man with a gentleman-like manner and cool blue eyes that studied them both with extreme mistrust.