Mary glanced at John as they searched another room of the manor. His face was a mask of focus as he searched through a stack of letters they'd found in a box in the upstairs drawing room.

Because the main events took place at nighttime, they had discovered that most of the other guests were still in bed—or at the very least, remained in their rooms—for most of the day. It gave them an excellent opportunity to search for clues with little risk of discovery. If they ran into a servant or one of the rare instances of another guest appearing, they simply pretended to be busy in a deep discussion to ensure that no one approached them.

He'd been quiet today, even more reserved than usual. She supposed he had not appreciated her joke last night. A smirk crossed her face. He'd scrambled away from her so fast you'd think the bed was on fire. It was almost insulting.

A name signed at the bottom of a letter caught her attention. They had discovered another writing desk in the drawing room and she was busy looking through the letters found inside it.

"I found something!" Excitement bubbled in her as she skimmed the letter from her sister to Hayes.

John abandoned the papers he'd been looking at and came over to look over her shoulder. Standing behind her, he felt far too close.

"Anything?" he asked, his voice near her ear.

"No. It proves they were corresponding, but no details of them meeting up." She brought out the last stack of letters from the drawer and thumbed them, looking for her sister's name, but came up empty. With a frustrated huff, she stuffed the papers back inside the desk. "Nothing! There must be more than one letter."

"If their corresponding became more private, Hayes is unlikely to keep the letters lying about," John said. "I think his bedroom is the most likely place."

She turned around and leaned her hips on the desk. "But how do we gain access to his room? Should I seduce him?"

The widening of John's eyes spoke of his conviction that such a thing would not be possible, and it bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

"No!" He cleared his throat before he continued. "That will not be necessary. You are an innocent. I will not have you put yourself in that situation."

Crossing her arms, she stared up at him. "You don't believe I could."

The masks they wore for privacy, even during the daytime, left his eyes in shadow as he angled his face away from her. "That is not what I said."

She scoffed. "You didn't need to. I'm well aware that I am not as pretty as my friends, but Hayes arranges these parties. Surely he does it because he enjoys a conquest. Any conquest."

"I could not speak to his reasons for these scandalous parties," John muttered. "But I would not assume he can be easily seduced—" Before she could say anything, he quickly added, "By anyone. I did not see him with a single guest last night, other than talking or laughing. Maybe he only enjoys watching."

"That sounds awfully boring. Why would one watch when they can take part?" She assumed. Never having so much as kissed someone before, she didn't know what to expect, but it certainly looked enjoyable. A lot of the things she had seen or read about seemed enjoyable. She captured her lower lip between her teeth as she remembered the couple on the bench the previous night. The way they had touched each other. Moved against each other. The way the man had captured the woman's nipple in his mouth.

"Are you all right?" John was staring at her, and she realised she'd let out a little sound as heated excitement filled her at the memory.

"Yes. Fine."

He did not look convinced but lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Some people enjoy watching rather than doing."

"Do you?" she blurted out, making his eyes widen again.

"Pardon?"

"Since you have never been with a woman." She picked up a letter opener resting on the desk to twirl it between her fingers, trying to act as if she wasn't immensely curious about his revelation. "Maybe it's because you prefer watching."

He looked as if he might want to throttle her for her continuous questions. "No," he finally said. "I would most definitely prefer doing to watching."

So would she. Probably. But she suspected she might never get to. Three seasons in London and she didn't have a single suitor to show for it. Spinsterhood loomed ahead, but she rather looked forward to it. Her brother would keep her with a nice, tidy income and she could set up a home in a cottage somewhere. No one to tell her what she could and could not do. She could keep a few horses since she enjoyed horseback riding. It was only the elusive idea of experiencing kissing and touching that made her hesitate. If she accepted a future as a spinster, there was none of that for her.

"So why haven't you?" Moving the letter opener between her hands, she tried to understand him. She could not allow herself any such liberties for fear of having a child outside of wedlock, but that was much less of a concern for men. Society did not judge a man with a bastard nearly as harshly as they did a woman.

His shoulders sloped as he must have realised she would never stop asking. "I am not entirely without experience," he muttered. "But I have not... I have not fully— Hell, Mary, this is not a suitable topic for a proper lady!"

The outburst made her jump. She dropped the letter opener which fell to the floor and nearly speared his foot. Fortunately, his reflexes were good, and he moved away in time. She clasped a hand over her mouth, waiting for him to yell at her.

Bending down to retrieve the small knife, he handed it back to her with the handle first. He quirked a dark eyebrow. "If I won't answer, are you going to stab me?"

She giggled before quickly putting the letter opener back on the desk. "Would such a threat gain me the truth?"

A brief smile crossed his lips. "Perhaps. I am rather fond of my toes."

Taking pity on him, no matter how curious she was, she pushed away from the desk and walked towards the door. "Come. It's getting later, and I imagine more guests will rise soon. I don't think we want them finding us here."

He followed her out the door and they fell into step as they walked down the hallway.

"I was busy in the army," John suddenly said, and she turned her head to look at him. He was staring straight ahead, refusing to meet her eyes. "When I returned and joined the— The Rose Agency, I considered finding a mistress. But then I went to a ball, and I made friends. I met Olivia. And I just... I knew I loved her. The idea of being with someone else just seemed wrong."

A stab of something that most definitely could not be jealousy made her look down at her feet moving across the floor. "That is rather sweet," she said. "You want your first time to be with the woman you love."

"It's foolish," he said, a bitter note entering his voice. "She barely knows I exist outside of being a friend. I could be a woman or a puppy as far as she's concerned. She will never see me as a prospective match."

She couldn't hold back a laugh. "Did you just equate women to puppies?"

"I—" He chuckled. "I did not mean to."

Putting a hand on his arm, she smiled up at him. "When we get back, we will change her opinion of you. Maybe we should let it slip you're an agent with the Rose Agency. That'll make her realise you're not so dull after all."

"You still seem to find me dull," he teased, and she giggled.

"Maybe dull is the wrong word," she allowed. "Proper and boring?"

He laughed. "That does not sound any better. Handsome and mysterious?"

"You're not very mysterious."

One of his eyebrows rose when she did not deny that he was handsome, and she cursed herself for blushing. "Anyway," she quickly said, eager to change the subject. "What's on the programme for tonight? Another ball?"

If he noticed her unsubtle shift, he made no mention of it. "I believe it's a game night."

"Considering their idea of a ball, what will a game night be like?" she mused.

"Hell if I know."

~~~~~~