As predicted, the announcement of Juliet’s engagement to Simeon caused a minor sensation and successfully overshadowed the potentially scandalous gossip that she and her beau had been seen alone together in a traveling chaise. Always desperate for entertainment, the ton had whispered, but had turned an indulgent eye to this lapse in behavior since it had resulted in a betrothal. It was generally supposed that the couple had anticipated their vows; a baby, eight months after the wedding, was the gossips’ consensus.

A few high sticklers tutted at the lax morals of the modern youth, and several disappointed suitors had declared themselves heartbroken that the divine Juliet was off the marriage mart, but all in all, everyone was looking forward to the wedding. Society had been thrilled to learn that Juliet had insisted upon the fashionable St. George’s, Hanover Square, and banns were to be called for the next three successive weeks before a mid-May wedding.

Georgie had smiled until her cheeks ached as she accepted well-meaning felicitations on her sister’s happiness and endured some less-than-subtle digs at her own still-unmarried state. She’d been sorely tempted to tell all those snide busybodies that she was, in fact, also engaged to be married, but since she and Benedict hadn’t discussed when, precisely, they would make their own announcement, she held her tongue. Doubtless their betrothal would create even more of a stir than Juliet’s, and she didn’t want to overshadow her sister’s moment of glory.

She hadn’t seen Benedict all week. He hadn’t made an appearance at any of the events she’d attended, and she’d found herself desperate for even a glimpse of him. His note, telling her to meet him at the coffeehouse on Ore Street that very evening, had been delivered six days ago, and Georgie could barely contain her excitement. This was the adventure she’d always craved, the chance to test her skills and help with something truly important.

“Pieter, I need to disguise myself as a boy.”

It was a testament to the old Dutchman’s years of service that not a whisper of surprise showed on his weather-beaten face. “Of course you do. May I ask why? I can only assume it’s because you’re about to involve yourself in some scheme that is—”

“—a terrible idea?” Georgie finished fondly. “Yes, quite probably.” She reached up and kissed his whiskered cheek. “But you’ll help me, won’t you? I promise I’ll be careful.”

The old Dutchman sighed. “Ah, you’re yer father’s daughter, Georgiana Caversteed. Ever one for a lark, he was. An adventurous spirit who could never be contained.” He gave a suspiciously watery sniff and blinked hard. “Of course I’ll help you. But tell that Wylde, I’ll wring his neck if anything happens to you. What do you need?”