Bridal Favors by Connie Brockway Page B

picturing her in his mind. “Heard the younger one was as different as night to day.”
    “Night?” Justin tested the word. “Yes, maybe. A rollicking, moonlit, wind-scoured summer night.”
    “You’re growing poetical in your old age, Jus,” Bernard said in interested tones.
    “Am I? How tiresome. A momentary aberration,” Justin apologized and then, “What does she look like? Small, dark. Hiding behind a hideous pair of spectacles. Masses of black hair.”
    “Obviously, she is not very perceptive if she thinks you’re a libertine,” Bernard said. “But that can only be a plus for our purposes, eh?”
    “I wouldn’t dismiss Lady Evelyn.”
    “No. Just hope she keeps busy with her end of the show as you attend to yours.” He paused and chewed on his lip, his face slowly screwing up with worry.
    Justin nodded readily enough, which did nothing to reassure Bernard. Justin Powell was inevitably agreeable, until the moment when he decided not to agree, and then . . . But he was here to persuade Justin to take this mission, not to worry about how he’d react if things went awry.
    He liked Justin. He knew how much the young man had sacrificed to work for them. In order to join Bernard’s clandestine company, Justin had ostensibly left the military because “the company was boring, the food atrocious, and the enemy simply too well trained.”
    His grandfather, General Harden, had thereafter been tireless in his criticism of his only grandson and, while Justin had maintained a sweet disregard, Bernard was certain the continued slights and sneers of Harden and his myriad John Bull pals must have caused Justin some pain.
    The notion that he was using a man who had given up so much for his country pricked at Bernard’s long-dormant conscience, and he waved his hand irritably, as if to rid himself of the pest. “It’s a workable plan,” he allowed.
    “Yes,” Justin said slowly, his light gaze touching and holding Bernard’s. “I can’t think of another. I just don’t want Lady Evelyn penalized by involvement with me.”
    “Neither do I! Gads, Lally belongs to my club,” Bernard declared. “If you’re worried she’ll be tainted by simple proximity to you, stay away from her!”
    The lopsided smile, so charming and rueful, appeared once more on Justin’s lean, clever face. He rose with the loose-jointed grace of the natural athlete and picked up his hat.
    “Well, that shouldn’t be too hard,” he said, putting it atop his head. “She’s probably out buying bolts and locks for all the chamber doors this very minute.”
     
    An hour had passed since Justin’s departure and still Bernard sat, his hands folded across the top of his silver-knobbed cane. Near twilight, a nondescript man in worn Ulster, his cloth cap pulled low over blunt features, limped up the promenade. Beside him a little terrier danced on the end of his lead. When he drew close to Bernard, the man unclipped the leash and the terrier bounded off into the mist.
    “Aren’t you afraid he’ll go missing?” Bernard asked.
    “Not Captain,” the man replied. His voice belied his common appearance, having perfect public school accents. “He’ll set a perimeter and let us know if anyone approaches.”
    Bernard nodded. “Even your pets have duties.”
    “We all play many roles, Bernard,” the man replied. He remained standing, his hands clasped lightly behind his back, rocking gently back and forth on the balls of his feet. “You handled Justin?”
    “Yes.” Quickly, Bernard told the man about his conversation with Justin.
    “And he suspects nothing?”
    Bernard gave a short snort. “I wouldn’t go that far. He’s asking questions. He wondered why we chose him for a simple courier job.”
    “What did you say?”
    “I told him this invention could change the way wars are fought. That we couldn’t use any regular routes. That we weren’t even sure when the thing could be got across the Channel. That though we expected nothing