June 10, 1819
London, England

John Osborne lacked for nothing. As the third son of an earl, he had been forced to make his own way, and he had done so quite successfully. After joining the War Office at a young age, he had quickly moved into the more unknown departments that dealt with national threats, and he'd had moderate success filtering out dissenters and spies. It was work he enjoyed as it kept him on his toes and busied his mind.

Which was more than could be said for this ball. Stifling a yawn behind his hand, he swept his eyes over the room and the gathered crowd. Lady Bates's balls were always popular, and the guests milled about like ants around an apple pie. As always, his eyes strayed to his friend Miss Olivia Newton. The familiar pang in his chest made itself known when he saw her laughing with their friend Anthony Dashwood. The man she had been in love with for years, but who saw her as nothing more than a friend. A familiar feeling as it was exactly how she looked at John, completely unaware of his feelings for her.

"Are you ever going to tell her?"

A voice next to him nearly made him jump. It wasn't often anyone could sneak up on him, but Lady Mary Kinson appeared to have silent feet. Schooling his features into a mask of polite interest, he looked down at the young woman who had come up to stand beside him.

"What do you mean?"

The hint of a smile teased her lips as she nodded toward Olivia. "Are you going to confess how you feel? It's been literal years. Don't you think it's time?"

Was he that obvious? He had believed himself able to conceal his feelings. Did Olivia know? The thought of her knowing and pitying him made his insides lurch uncomfortably.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied stiffly, which only garnered him a quiet laugh.

Mary was Olivia's best friend, and he knew her fairly well as they often met socially in the group of friends they shared, but he had never quite warmed to her. She was a little too loud, a little too outspoken. He grunted inwardly. A little too honest.

"Please," she said, sounding amused, which only rankled him further. "Do not play dumb. We both know how you feel about her."

"Suppose I do—" He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Care for her... I see little reason to tell her when she so obviously sees me as nothing but a dear friend."

"And she will never think of you as anything else if you give her no reason to." Lady Mary rolled her eyes. He did not appreciate it. "Maybe finding out how you feel is exactly what she needs to get over her infatuation with Dash."

"You don't think he will eventually realise and marry her?" The question slipped out before he could stop himself. He had wondered this many times and maybe one reason he had not told her was because he thought their friend would eventually realise his mistake. Who would not want Olivia? It was unthinkable to him that someone would not want to marry her.

"Honestly? No, I don't think he ever will. I suspect he knows how she feels. He just doesn't feel the same."

There was that honesty again. He supposed he shouldn't be too surprised. Mary's other friend—another one in their shared friend circle—was the most outspoken woman he had ever known. Lady Nicola Howerty—no, Lady Nicola Winter now—never held back. He wasn't sure why the quality annoyed him more in Mary than in their other friend.

He watched her as she took a sip from a glass of lemonade. Both she and Olivia had attended several seasons by now, and while he knew Olivia's reasons for remaining unmarried, he did not know Mary's. As the daughter of an earl, she wasn't without suitors, but he couldn't remember if she had ever received any offers. Maybe they found her as abrasive as he did.

"You should tell her," she said. "What do you have to lose?"

"Her friendship?" he remarked dryly.

"Well," she allowed. "There's that."

Pulling a pocket watch out of his waistcoat, he checked the time. He had agreed to a late-night appointment with Gabriel Winter about a possible joint case between the Rose Agency and the War Office.

"Court her."

"Excuse me?" He returned the pocket watch and glanced at his uninvited partner. She wasn't even looking at him, her eyes on their friends who were now on the dance floor, her feet tapping along with the rhythm of the music.

"Court her," she repeated. "You're being a coward. Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

"I would ask you to kindly keep your opinions to yourself," he muttered, not appreciating her advice, even if it made some sense. He was a coward, but the idea of telling Olivia how he felt and seeing the pity in her eyes filled him with dread. No one wanted to be pitied. Especially not by the person they loved. In a spurt of bad mood, he testily added, "Maybe you should focus on finding a match for yourself instead."

"No, thank you."

The reply surprised him enough to pique his interest. "You do not wish to get married?"

She finally looked back at him, her green eyes searching his, before she lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "I'm not opposed to the idea, but I'm not going out of my way to find one."

"Well... Why not?"

"I don't know," she admitted with a slight smile. "If I find someone I might consider marrying, maybe I will change my tune. But I'm quite content as is."

"Hmm." He had no other reply. Marriage was something he had always assumed he would enter into at some point or other—ideally with Olivia—and he struggled to imagine a world where he remained a bachelor for the rest of his life. It wasn't a future he wanted; he liked the idea of someone to share his life with, but he supposed he could not assume everyone wanted the same. Personally, he couldn't wait to have someone waiting in bed for him when he returned home.

"I could help you if you don't know how." Lady Mary's comment made him raise his eyebrows as his thoughts took a wrong turn for a moment.

"I beg your pardon?"

She smiled, showing off two dimples. "Court her. I can help you."

"I know how to court a lady," he muttered.

"Do you?" Another sip of her drink as she watched him over the rim of the glass, and he got the distinct impression that she was silently laughing at him. "I have never seen you court anyone."

"Only because no one has caught my interest." Honestly, the nerve of this woman. Frustrated by the direction of their discussion, he raked a hand through his hair.

"If you say so," she said blithely, but with the air of someone who did not believe a word he was saying.

This. This was exactly why he didn't like her.

"I have a prior engagement I must attend. As always, it's been a pleasure speaking to you, Lady Mary," he said, and if she caught the sarcasm in his voice, she didn't react to it. Sketching a curt bow, he took his leave.

Walking down the steps of Lady Bates's townhouse, he was still grumbling as he got into his waiting carriage. Lady Mary was one of the most vexing people of his acquaintance. Why couldn't she keep her opinions to herself like most people in polite society? He rapped on the roof of the carriage and it lurched into motion. His driver knew where they were going, so he relaxed against the seat, staring out the window at the dark streets of London. If Lady Mary knew of his feelings... Did anyone else? Did Olivia?

He straightened in the seat. He'd been so frustrated when speaking to Lady Mary that he'd forgotten to bid Olivia a good night. Another strike against the young lady.

The carriage pulled up outside the Rose Agency a short while later. This late at night, the premises were mostly empty, but the door was open. Light shone from the room in the back where he knew the manager of the agency would be. Three men greeted him as he entered the room; Lord Gabriel Winter, one owner of the agency, Mr Hemsworth, the new manager, and Mr Tavisham, his supervisor at the War Office.

"Ah, Mr Osborne!" Winter said with an easy smile. "Thank you for coming at this late hour. It was the only time we could get everyone gathered." He motioned to the other two men. "I believe you already know my manager, and obviously Tavisham."

He nodded toward the other men before looking back at Winter. "As I understand, there is a joint case you want me to work on?"

Tavisham, an older gentleman with a bushy moustache, stepped forward. "Yes. There's a person of interest to the crown that we have been wanting to get closer to for some time, and the Rose Agency has a client that may provide an unusual opportunity to do so."

"Yes," Winter said. "We're just waiting for the client to arrive, and then we will discuss the details."

"To protect your identity as one of the Crown's spies, you will act as an agent employed by the Rose Agency for this mission," Tavisham added.

There was a noise as the front door opened and closed. John turned around to see a woman in a hooded cloak approaching. Something lurched uneasily inside him as he felt like he recognised that sauntering gait. Coming into the room, the cloaked woman lifted her hands and pushed the hood back. Lady Mary Kinson.

Oh, hell no.

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