She laughed. “And why is that?”
“Like you, it’s soft and sweet and so deliciously tempting.”
“And for you, Dante, I shall choose a pyramid of macaroons.”
“Because they’re hard and smooth on the outside, soft in the centre?”
She looked deep into his eyes. “Because you love them, and I love you. And I wish to spend every day of my life making you happy.”
“I love you,” he said, his chaste kiss of appreciation quickly becoming a rampant mating of mouths, a mating that lasted well into the afternoon.
* * *
Highwood, Bedfordshire
Evan Sloane’s country residence
“How does it feel to be married to Dante D’Angelo?” Sybil Daventry asked as the wives of the men who worked for the Order huddled together in Mr Sloane’s drawing room.
Flutters of excitement made Beatrice silently chuckle. She’d been Dante’s wife for three hours and had worn a permanent grin ever since. “He’s everything a woman could want in a husband.” Everything a woman would want in a lover and a friend.
All the women glanced across the room at their respective husbands and nodded.
“I imagine they’re discussing Mr Craddock’s trial.” Vivienne Sloane sipped her champagne. “At the very least, he’ll get seven years transportation.”
If only Mr Craddock had gone to the authorities when Mr Babington blackmailed him. But the fear of debtors’ prison made men lose all rationale.
“The gossips say he killed Mr Babington, but the witnesses described a thin man who was fast on his feet.” Beatrice had read numerous reports in the broadsheets stating that Mr Babington had ventured all over the country, using aliases to dupe unsuspecting people out of funds. The wider the news spread, the more victims came forward. “The man had a lot of enemies.”
Sophia Cole touched Beatrice gently on the upper arm. “I imagine you’re relieved now the case is over. At the same time, you’re probably missing the thrill of the chase.”
“It’s exciting until you have something to lose,” she said, wondering how she would cope when Dante was given his next assignment. “How do you sleep at night knowing they place themselves in danger?”
Sybil Daventry sighed. “Lucius takes his responsibilities seriously. He ensures they’re trained to defend themselves, instinctively knows when to pair them together on a case. And they’re all extremely skilled agents.”
As if hearing his wife’s praise, Lucius Daventry glanced at Sybil, and his hard exterior softened. He inclined his head, devotion and respect swimming in his dark eyes.
“But you work for the Order, Beatrice,” Eva Ashwood said, stroking her abdomen in such a way one knew she was with child. “How will Dante cope when you’re faced with a new client?”
Dante wouldn’t have to worry. She had decided to take another role in Lucius Daventry’s organisation. The master of the Order had saved her, and now it was her turn to save someone else.
“Rather than accept a new case, I’m to assist Miss Trimble. Four new ladies are moving into Howland Street this week, all women without prospects or funds.” But she suspected Miss Trimble needed her the most.
Sybil nodded. “My husband is paying for them to stay at the Clarendon Hotel. I believe one of them caught a pickpocket loitering in the lobby.”
Eva’s eyes
widened. “Will they all be agents?”
“I believe so. Lucius agreed to follow Dante’s advice and consider their assignments carefully. They already have a potential client. Lord Devereaux wants to hire an agent, but Lucius told him only female agents were for hire. Told him the men only work to help those without funds.”
“Lord Devereaux?” Sophia wiggled a brow. “The man can click his fingers and have anything he wants. Why would he need to hire an agent?”
“I have no idea.”
Eva chuckled. “Do you know, Sybil, when one considers the fact all the gentlemen of the Order are now married, one wonders if your husband is skilled in matchmaking.”
They all laughed.