“Even if you know something, see the details that others missed and piece together some scandal, or read someone’s expression that makes you think they’re lying, you must keep it to yourself. When you find the right man, I’ll help you talk with him about your remarkable work for king and country in the War Office, but till then, protect yourself, protect your heart. Likely you’ll see through all the bad apples, but in case…”

Joan took a few steps toward him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “I understand, and I will be careful. Chances are even if I slipped up, it would be easily explained as a coincidence. I’ve worked with you long enough to know how to be on my guard.”

“True, but multiple coincidences lead to suspicion, and I don’t want you to be the focal point of any of the ton’s bile in their gossip.”

“Thank you.” Joan squeezed his shoulder. “I’m thankful for a big brother like you.”

“Even if I’m an overbearing tyrant?” Morgan asked, releasing a tight chuckle.

“Even if you’re an overreacting, overbearing, maniacal tyrant,” she answered.

Morgan released a breath. “With Father and Mother gone, and then when Percy died in the fire… I don’t want to lose you too. Even if only to heartache.”

“You won’t, but you will be taking your life in your hands if you don’t leave now so you’ll be back in time for the ball,” she teased, attempting to lighten the mood, but the mention of fire had her on edge slightly. Ever since they’d lost their brother in the blaze, she’d been fearful of that element.

Morgan’s eyes widened, and he clasped the folder to his chest, then took his leave. “Be back in two hours at the most.”

“We’ll see,” Joan called out as he disappeared from the library.

Releasing a breath, she looked to the desk where the papers had rested. Her skill was hopefully going to save a life today. The missives were two letters sent from the same source; one was a decoy, the other the real message. Without information concerning which one was a ruse and which was accurate, the War Office didn’t know which location was the correct one, since each missive held a different destination. It was a smart precaution in case the messenger was caught—which he had been—but it wasn’t enough. Not when the War Office had someone like her in their ranks. Though any information and questions were passed through her brother, Joan had developed quite a name within the office.

It was Morgan who had coined her alias, Saint. It was brilliant, really, since she was named for Joan of Arc, thus giving a fitting nod to her namesake.