Lisbeth’s grin widened. “You mean if I were an intrepid, daring, clever international agent who had thwarted my pursuers by feigning illness and pretending to be asleep in bed by means of a very devious trick, all the while planning my escape off a passenger liner in the middle of the evening when my enemies were distracted?”

“Yes.” His humor soured further. “Thank you for the succinct summary.”

She lifted her brows. “Of course, I have an idea of where.”

“Are you going to make me beg, Lisbeth?”

She laughed and cocked her head. “Do allow me my fun, Val. It’s rather entertaining watching a jejune chit wind her frustratingly wily webs around you. If I didn’t know you better, I’d say deep down, you were pretending to hate it. Secretly, you admire that she outmaneuvered you, the spymaster prince himself.”

His jaw ached from grinding his teeth. “I do not.”

She let out a scoffing noise. “Answer me this. Tell me you haven’t felt more alive in the past weeks than you have in a long time?”

Valentine had, but that was no one’s business but his. He didn’t admire the girl; he wanted to lock her in a room and throw away the key. Preferably with him in there.

With a pair of handcuffs.

Growling at his own absurdity, he pinched the bridge of his nose and banished his salacious and categorically unwelcome fantasies. “If you’re not going to be helpful, I am leaving.”

“Don’t be cross, Val,” she said, laughing at him and tugging on his arm. “If I were her, I’d go to Paris.”

He frowned. “Not board a packet to England?”

Lisbeth shook her head. “My guess is that she would anticipate that you’d expect her to do that. Run back to her brother or whoever her contact is. But you asked me what a woman might do, and it’s what I would do. My money is on the City of Light.”

Fifteen

There was something about Paris that fired up the senses. Perhaps it was the way the French lived, or the feeling of flamboyance and élan in the air. It didn’t feel as stoic or as measured as England. The French did everything with such flair. Even this ball that her aunt Esther had insisted she attend so she could show off her beautiful, accomplished niece.

As expected, the Comtesse de Valois had welcomed her with open and very enthusiastic arms when she and Cora had shown up on her doorstep.

“You’re just in time! My spring ball is this week. You’ll be its star!”