She asked, “There were none of your crew who left ye and went overland, perhaps to Saint-Germain?”

She’d amused him now. “I thought you favored the Jacobite cause.”

“I do.”

“Then why are you so distrustful of Gordon, whatever his politics?”

There simply was no way to tell him unless she revealed what had happened to her as a child that had left her so wary of men who gave gifts to young girls, and although she knew she bore no fault for that incident, she felt the shame of it still, and did not wish to speak of it, nor to speak Mr. Bell’s name.

Matthew glanced at her, neither taking her silence for lack of an answer nor dismissing her concern, but simply offering her reassurance. “I’ve spent much time with Gordon these past months, and he has my trust.”

She knew he did not give that lightly. Lily frowned.

“Don’t worry,” said Matthew. “I like him. I’d follow him anywhere.”

“Aye,” she said. “That’s what I fear.”

* * *

The second time he went to France with Captain Gordon, Lily saw it coming—saw the restlessness beginning to take hold in Matthew weeks beforehand, so when Gordon brought his pass this time to have it copied, she expected what would come.

She did not fear it any less, but Matthew understood her fears and tried his best to make it easier. He showed her on the map the gate they’d enter by at Flanders on their journey overland to Paris.

Walter had been wounded Matthew would see Paris before he would, but he hid it well. He was still hopeful he would make it to Utrecht, although it was becoming clear this would not be the season. “Archie says I might have traveled in the spring,” he told them, “but for the invasion.”

Henry answered, “There is always an invasion.” Which was truly how it seemed.

This one, like those before it, had begun with a brave gathering of Jacobites in France—this time at Calais, and supported by a great conspiracy at London aimed, so it was said, at an assassination of King William. And like those before it, this invasion failed.

“Be careful,” Lily said to Matthew, “that ye do not find yourself at Saint-Germain, instead of Paris.”

Matthew smiled, and kissed her. “You’re the one who must be careful.”

He asked Simon to step in for him while he was gone and keep watch on the house. And this time, he was not away so long.

When he returned, Lily had news for him. “Walter is married.”

They were on the Shore. Matthew stopped walking. “Married?”

“Aye.” She had struggled over how much she should tell him of the truth, in part to spare his brother, and in part to spare the lass involved, but Matthew was no fool and Lily knew he’d learn the truth himself in time, so in the end she shared the whole of what she’d witnessed and been told.

Matthew listened, and his mouth made a hard line. “The black-haired lass from the Paunchmarket. Aye, well, it would be, wouldn’t it? Didn’t I tell him to mind how he went down that road?”