Mr. Whitmore shook his head. Apparently, that was information I was not yet to have.

“But why does Augusta have to go?” Julia asked. “If Mr. Kent and Lord Evan are going, is that not enough?”

“It is of the utmost importance that a woman of rank be part of the mission. The person cannot be retrieved without your sister’s presence.” He wet his lips. “It is not only Lady Augusta that we ask, Lady Julia. We also ask that you go, to serve your king and country. We cannot afford to send over only one lady in case she…” He stopped.

“Dies?” I supplied.

He ducked his head. “Quite.”

“I do not wish to be a spy,” Julia said. “It is a ridiculous idea.”

“You will definitely not be spying,” Whitmore said quickly. “That would be a death sentence if you were captured. We ask only that you go as what you are: two ladies of noble rank, who are attempting to travel through France to return to your home in”—he paused—“Sweden.”

Sweden again. Evan had proposed to take refuge there with Hester.

“How are we to be Swedish?” I asked. “We do not speak the language.”

“Your French will suffice and you will have legitimate papers. In addition, since ladies of your rank would never travel without servants, you may take two people, but no more, and you must trust them implicitly, for your lives could depend upon their discretion and resourcefulness. Lord Evan tells me you have a man who has proved himself most useful and trustworthy.”

“Our butler.”

“If he is to accompany you, he may know the dangers he may face, but not the goal. The fewer people who know, the better.” He sat back. “Do you agree to go, Lady Augusta?”

No wonder George Brummell had refused to tell me anything about his favor. It was rather more dangerous than those he had granted to me. Moreover, Whitmore’s rather glancing reference to capture and death had not gone unnoticed. Still, I had made George a promise, and frankly, nothing was going to stop me from helping Evan obtain that pardon.

“I will go on one condition, Mr. Whitmore,” I said. The inevitability of my agreement was not going to stop me from making my own demand.

He eyed me warily. “What is it you want?”

“I want the Exalted Brethren of Rack and Ruin shut down. I want that place gone before I go to France.”

Julia angled a glance at me. The implacability in my voice had surprised her, but she had not seen poor Miss Hollis or Jenny.

Whitmore frowned. “But that is our main source of information about Lord Milroy.”

“I do not care. If you want me to go to France, then it must be closed.”

“Even if we do close it down—which is nigh impossible considering its membership—it will just move somewhere else, Lady Augusta. There are always clubs like it.”