She placed her hands upon the windowsill, her head bowed. “I get so frightened. When you went into the forest, I could barely breathe the entire time for fear that you might never return. And when Mr. Kent was taken—”

“I get frightened too,” I said.

How many times had I blinked past the image of Mulholland’s leering face in that circle of men or the sensation of his grabbing hands?

“But it is not only that,” Julia said. “I may have stopped taking the blue mass pills, but I am still fatigued, still not well.”

I bit my lip, stopping myself from commenting upon that happy decision.

“And we are at war with France, Gus,” she continued. “We are not trained for such things. Moreover, we would be in the company of men to whom we are not married, whom we have no real claim upon.”

“Except love.”

She eyed me for a moment, silently conceding that claim. “Even so, it is just not done. We are Lady Augusta and Lady Julia. We do not sully ourselves with the matters and work of men. Especially such sordid work as the Alien Office. We would be two unmarried women in the company of two unmarried men, neither of them acceptable to our family or our social sphere. If it was discovered, we would be ruined. Beyond contempt. Or thought mad and pitied.”

I had not thought of that aspect of the mission. Traveling with Evan in another country, in the guise of another woman. Another life and another set of rules without the eyes of English society upon me. An interesting prospect. Still, that was not Julia’s point.

“You are right. It would certainly be unconventional,” I said.

“Unconventional?” Julia gave a small laugh. “That is an understatement. The truth is, Gus, I am a conventional woman. Unlike you, I do not wish to flout society.”

“By loving Mr. Kent, I think you already do.”

She pressed her fingertips to her face and shook her head. “No, I have not stepped boldly into society with Mr. Kent. I have not shown my attachment to the world. I—” She stopped, turning to look out the window at some commotion below. “Oh no.”

“What is it?” I crossed to the window.

A town carriage stood at our door. Duffy and Harriet had clearly just alighted, for their footman was folding up the step and closing the carriage door behind them. I grabbed Julia’s arm to pull her away from sight. Damn, too slow: Harriet looked up and saw us at the window, raising a hand in greeting. We could not send Weatherly down to claim we were not at home.

“I suppose this visit was inevitable,” Julia said.

“Inevitably irritating,” I muttered.

My sister cast a critical look around the drawing room, then walked over to the sofa where Mr. Whitmore had sat. “Is that a mark? Harriet is always so…observant.”

“No, there is nothing there,” I said.