London never looked prettier. Sure, the snowbanks were stained with soot and the street noise sounded like an orchestra of elephants, but the familiar sights and sounds of city life offered reassurance as my coach carried me away from the headquarters of the army paymaster.

Now that I knew the battle I faced to forward the cause of disabled soldiers, I considered engaging the help of an assistant. Someone with experience handling self-important officers who can't keep their hands to themselves. What provoked these men to think it was acceptable to behave so inappropriately?

While I had experience with men exhibiting every variation of manners, I did not claim to be an expert on their inexplicable behaviours. Clearly, the situation with Colonel Whitaker would need to be dealt with in the most delicate fashion. He had the power to help me or hurt me, and I expected an ultimatum to come at any moment. The thought had me fisting my hands, and I nearly cursed when the carriage came to an abrupt stop to avoid a staggering pedestrian.

While we waited for the road to clear, I continued my thoughtful debate. I needed an ally. Preferably someone within the paymaster's office who could rescue me should my circumstance deteriorate to that level. The secretary seemed the most convenient choice, since he sat right outside the colonel's office. But the man struck me as a miserable sot. Was it because he hated his position? Was the colonel responsible for his wretched temperament?

At that moment, a thought hit me, and I popped my head outside the carriage window, shouting at the driver to change our course. A few minutes later, we were pulling in front of Faulkner and Batts, the finest stationary shoppe in central London. As the coachman helped me navigate the slippery sidewalk, I palmed a coin into his hand, asking that he wait unless he received a larger fare.

The smell of fresh parchment greeted me as I entered the store, immediately easing my worried mind. Some of my best memories were tied to my writing desk, where I had penned saucy missives to Alexander the First, who had also been my first. He was Emperor of Russia now and didn't have time for such frivolousness.

Knowing my way quite well, I walked to the table where the newest pens were displayed. While I enjoyed the feel of a quill and the familiar, acrid smell of ink, I did appreciate the convenience of these newfangled devices. And I thought someone who spent a good amount of time making official notations would appreciate it as well.

After looking over all the options, I picked up a box holding a handsome pen with a pair of metal nibs. The casing had been fashioned out of tortoise shell, something I had not seen before, and it boasted an impressive weight. Certainly, the miserable secretary would be cheered by such a gift. With luck, the quality would equal the price.

I found my coachman still waiting when I stepped outside, and as I accepted his proffered hand to climb into the carriage, my gaze fell on a figure across the street dressed in a naval officer's uniform. The man stood in a familiar pose, stiff and guarded, a typical stance for a military man who had seen battle. But I could not ignore the strange pull as I studied him from a distance. I knew this man.

Making another request of my coachman to stay or leave as he pleased, I hurried across the street to Regency Park. If I was correct, this was a fortuitous coincidence. A lamplighter was busy providing ambiance to the scene as I approached the man, who observed a group of ice skaters enjoy the frozen pond. I could not help staring at the winter landscape along with him. It felt contrived and spontaneous at the same time.

"It's a beautiful sight, isn't it," I said as I pulled up beside Captain Thompson, breathing in the faint cedar fragrance lingering on his jacket.

"Mistress Hayes." He wore a genuine look of surprise and did not appear put-out by my sudden appearance at his shoulder. "What brings you to Regency Park? Are you also planning to strap blades to your feet and slide around on the ice like a polar bear?"

"I am sure a polar bear would do a much better job of skating than I would. What brings you here?"

"Alice and her date." He pointed into the throng of bodies weaving unsteadily in a counter-clockwise fashion. "She's the one tucked under the white fur bonnet with the fellow keeping much too close."

I found the pair making very slow progress around the frozen pond. The fellow was, indeed, sticking to Alice like pudding to the side of a cup. "Mister Dalrymple, I presume?"

"Yes. He showed up this morning and voluntarily put himself under the admiral's microscope. I believe he was trying to prove himself a stalwart suitor."

"Or, he knows about Lord Kingsley's visit tomorrow and wanted to make an impression ahead of his rival."

"I suspect a little of both." The captain finally let his gaze drift away from the couple to look at me. It may have been the effect of the winter landscape combined with the glow of the lamplight, but his eyes sparkled like icicles that had been set aflame. "Were you out shopping?"

He motioned toward the parcel in my hand, which I had nearly forgotten. "Oh, yes. It's just a wee gesture I'm hoping to bribe someone with."

"Indeed?" He lifted his brows conspiratorially. "I did not think you the bribing sort."

"I'm not, but desperate times call for desperate measures, as they say. It's actually fortuitous that I should meet you here. I was hoping to speak with you before I arrive tomorrow for what I'm sure will be an awkward dinner at your home with the young lord."

"What's on your mind, Mistress Hayes?" His focus returned to his sister on the pond, and I was glad for his distracted behaviour. The business I needed to discuss was sure to put him off.

"I plan to tell the admiral the truth about my profession before Lord Kingsley's visit."

As expected, the captain's head snapped back to me. In fact, his entire body followed, and soon he was facing me, crossing his arms at his chest. "Why would you do that? It's sure to make the evening even more awkward."

"Well, I am not sure you're aware of this, but Lord Kingsley knows of my profession. Should he make mention of it to your father, the evening will not only be awkward, it will become potentially hazardous to us both."

The captain brought this hand to his chin and scrubbed it. "This is news to me. How did the lord learn of your profession?"

"I suspect he investigated me after Alice and I met him at the Weatherby's ball. I received a missive from him shortly afterward."

"You've been exchanging missives with Lord Kingsley?" His brows maneuvered beneath his hair, which he tended to leave in a tousled state on his forehead. But I refused to let his suspicious nature cause me guilt. This was about Alice and the well-being of the admiral.

"I assure you, I have done all I can to put the young lord off without insulting him or the noble house of Oxford. I had hoped this entire deception would be behind us before anything came of Lord Kingsley's infatuation with me, but a certain naval captain continues to perpetuate it."

This time, his entire face joined the party his brows were having, widening and contorting in various directions. "Lord Kingsley is infatuated with you? And you never thought to mention this before?"

"My personal life is not privy conversation, Captain. I do not require you to share everything you do on your own time. Rather than point accusatory fingers, I suggest we work together on this. Tomorrow, before Lord Kingsley arrives..."

"We'll just ask him not to mention it," he said bluntly. "Hell, he might not think of it at all. It's not exactly a topic for polite conversation."

I ignored his insult about my profession. Knowing him, he had no idea he had insulted me. Or interrupted me, for that matter. "You've met Lord Kingsley. Do you think he is someone who always observes polite topics?"

"Hmm. I expect he might not. How will it be if I met the lord at his carriage and had a quick word with him about it? No need to involve the admiral at all. He'll have enough on his mind with entertaining a nobleman."

"There you go again, trying to continue the ruse." I exhaled a pointed sigh, blowing vapor into the chilled air. "Let's say, for argument's sake, that we ask Lord Kingsley to keep my profession out of conversation. What happens when the admiral presents me as the woman you're courting? That is a topic I am sure will come up. And even if the lord keeps his mouth shut about it, he is one more innocent we have brought into our circle of deceit."

Although I did not believe, for one minute, that Lord Kingsley was an innocent, I used the term to make my point. And based on the scowl growing on the captain's face, he understood with great clarity. "So, what do you plan to tell the admiral, exactly?"

"We...will tell him that we have broken off the courtship. We will explain that it was too difficult on account of my profession, which we will then elucidate in the gentlest way possible."

He groaned like a man being tortured. "Gentleness will get you nowhere with my father. What do you propose we say when he asks if you suspended your business practices while we courted? Do we lie and tell him you did?"

I did not like the way he pinched the bridge of his nose and cringed, like he had caught the scent of something foul. Although it may have had to do with his nose still healing. "We tell him I did. It will be our last lie."

I watched the captain clench and unclench his jaw, all while staring at me with those cold, fiery eyes. "This will ruin his day, you know. It will likely ruin his month. In fact, he may not speak to either of us for that long."

"If you're trying to make me feel worse about this, you're doing a fine job. I'm already battling untold demons for deceiving your father. Our entire relationship has been based on a lie."

"Whose relationship are we talking about? Yours and my father's? Or yours and mine?"

I looked at him for a long moment. Had I been unclear? Why was he inserting himself into the equation? "Mine and your father's, of course. Even if he chooses not to ostracize me, he will know I was never completely forthcoming with him. I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't."

For the first time since I had approached the uncomfortable subject, the captain's expression fell. Was he finally seeing the forest for the trees? "You're right. I should have known there would be no easy way to resolve what we had contrived, although our initial intent was honourable. We will have to hope the admiral will accept that as justification for our deception."

"Sadly, I doubt it will assuage him. It is likely to cause him embarrassment that his family resorted to lies in order to draw him out of a self-perpetuated depression. Any way you look at it, the situation does not bode well for us. And that includes Alice."

We both turned to look for Alice and her date, and that's when I noticed a crowd had gathered at the edge of the pond. Someone broke away from the group and began racing toward us. My heart jumped into my throat as Jules and I hurried to meet the man, who had stopped to tug his skates off. "Are you Captain Thompson!" the man yelled.

"Yes. What's going on over there? Do I need to fetch a constable?"

"I don't think a constable is what we need. Your sister took a tumble. She might need a hospital."

Jules was already racing toward the scene as the man continued to speak, so I offered him our thanks before hurrying to catch up. The bodies parted as Jules bullied his way through, and there was Alice sitting on the lap of Mister Dalrymple who sat on the ice. Tears streamed down Alice's red cheeks and her teeth chattered violently.

"What the bloody hell happened?" The captain knelt in front of Alice, but his eyes were pinned on Mister Dalrymple.

"It was a tree branch, Captain," said the young man vehemently. "Neither of us saw it, and it caught up in Alice's skate."

"How did she manage to fall? You have been glued to her side all day." Jules growled as he lifted Alice into his arms and carried her up an embankment, forcing Mister Dalrymple to follow.

"She wanted to skate on her own. She said I was helping her too much."

Their exchange was cut short when Jules reached the sidewalk and called for a carriage. I quickly insisted they take mine, which still stood across the street. I was only able to share a few words of sympathy with Alice before the trio rushed off to seek medical help. When I arrived home, my mind overflowed with worry, and after reciting the events of the day with my staff, Tilda offered to spend the evening attending me.

She prepared a bath, making sure my new soap was close at hand, while Jasper readied a fire, stoking it until my bedroom was good and warm. Clara had left a meat pie for my supper before she and Douglas went home, and I finished the evening draped in my dressing gown with a full goblet of port. But all I could think about was poor Alice and how she would likely be forced to entertain Lord Kingsley from an infirmed position on the settee.

~   Thursday, Jan 20, 1813   ~

Morning arrived much too soon, and I dragged through my daily routine like a lame dog. I would be facing two battles today; first with Colonel Whitaker and then Admiral Thompson. I could not say which I dreaded more. Choosing my largest reticule, I tucked the fancy pen into it, along with a tin of iced biscuits Clara had baked. I did not want to arrive at the Thompsons empty handed.

Walking into the headquarters of the army paymaster felt like walking into a mausoleum, but I ignored my churning stomach as I made straight for the secretary's desk. He was already preparing his scowl as I pulled up, and I stifled whatever sour greeting he had for me when I set the handsome pen box on his desk.

"This is for you, Mister Merriweather. I noticed how much work you're responsible for and thought this would help you save time."

I opened the lid on the box, and the secretary bent over to scrutinize the contents. "This is one of those newfangled pens that doesn't require an ink well."

"Yes, sir. I have used one myself, and they are quite effective."

He grunted as he lifted the pen from its tidy compartment and turned it over in his hand. "My arrogant brother bought one of these. He's always bragging about this or that. Drives me batty."

Oh, dear. Was he going to refuse the gift because it reminded him of his arrogant brother? Or, maybe it wasn't proper to offer gifts to military personnel. Was he considered military?

"Actually, my brother's pen isn't nearly as nice as this one. I can't wait to wave it in his face." He gloated as he positioned it between his fingers, pretending to write something in the air. "I appreciate this, Mistress Hayes. Thank you."

"I'm very glad you like it. I have mine with me today in the hopes it will get me through my tasks quicker. I told the colonel I could only stay the morning. But I cannot help worrying he will make it difficult for me to leave."

The secretary scrutinized me in a similar way he'd done with the pen. Then he glanced at Colonel Whitaker's door, and his expression switched to something that resembled sympathy. Did he consider the colonel to be a contemptuous arse as well? "How are you at whistling?"

The question sounded odd, but the secretary did not look like he was joking. The fact was, I had learned to whistle very well at the orphan asylum. It was a skill that came in handy during my walkabouts. "I can hold my own."

"Fine. If you ever need anything while you're behind that door, no matter the circumstance, just whistle."

I nodded gratefully, and Mister Merriweather stood to walk me to the colonel's office. After the success of my peace offering, I felt a bit more confident as I worked at my desk. I had become familiar enough with the reference texts that I didn't need to enlist the colonel's help, although he still made excuses to hover over me and casually sniff my hair while pressing his belly into my back.

Afternoon arrived, and I finally finished my work. After tidying up the desk, I approached him with the forms. "I have completed these fully, Colonel. I appreciate all the help you have given me. When should we expect a response in this regard?"

He took his time perusing the papers, glancing every so often over the top to look at me. I remained standing to avoid any confusion that I wished to linger. When he seemed satisfied, he stood and walked around his desk, causing me to step backward toward the door.

"You have been quite satisfactory in your attention to detail. I have no doubt you would make someone a fine secretary."

"Thank you. I strive to do my best at every task I undertake."

His lips lifted into a lewd smile, and I immediately realized my error. "I imagine that keeps your benefactors satisfied."

I did not know what to say to that, so I repeated my initial inquiry. "When can I expect to hear from you regarding the submission of these documents, sir?"

"That depends on how hard I push for a response. If there was an incentive for me to pressure the others to sign off on them, we could see results within a fortnight." He moved closer, forcing me into the door. "If you could see your way to giving me something... Something from your bag of tricks. I could make that happen."

My bag of tricks?

"Please, Colonel Whitaker. You and I have already had this discussion. And we have done so well managing the case on behalf of our disabled soldiers. Do you not wish to see this through without sullying the process with dishonourable devices?"

I felt the sweat already beading beneath my chemise as the colonel held me captive. I really did not want to call on Mister Merriweather. It would only make a scene and embarrass the colonel. Then I would be waiting much longer than a fortnight to see results. And, contrary to what he professed, giving in to his request would not guarantee anything. I knew his type. The most powerful were often the most corrupt.

"Like I said before, nobody has to know about any such devices. You may think me past my prime, Mistress Hayes, but I assure you, I am no slouch."

He made a move toward his crotch, and my heart rate surged. What was I to do?

The knock arrived just as the colonel was leaning in. "Mistress Hayes? Your carriage has arrived, as you requested."

It was the paymaster secretary. He had come through, and I didn't have to resort to extreme measures. Now, that was a fine secretary.

"Thank you, Mister Merriweather. Your excellent reputation precedes you." I smiled politely at the colonel as he adjusted the position of his jacket to cover the bulge in his trousers. "Colonel, I do hope we see each other again soon. Once your colleagues sign off on the forms, I expect we will have more work ahead of us."

Grabbing desperately for the doorknob, I let myself out, finding Mister Merriweather standing at the ready outside the office. Had it not been for his superb timing, I may have found myself on my knees in front of Colonel Mutton Chops. I offered the secretary an appreciative nod and left the building with my morals intact. Now, all I had to do was navigate the seas at the home of Admiral Thompson.