Miss Fortescue's Protector In Paris. Amanda McCabe

‘Whatever would happen next if women got the vote? Female M.P.s? Preposterous.’

      Chris wasn’t so sure about that. Women often seemed to him rather more sensible than most men. Laura Smythe-Tomas was one of their best agents; Emily ran her father’s business; Diana wrote articles. ‘Some women can already vote locally, of course, and sit on school boards. It seems to go rather well.’

      Ellersmere frowned. ‘That is quite a different matter to what this Mrs Hurst and her ilk seem to want. We’ve heard she is setting up meetings with Madame Renard and Herr Friedland in Paris. What on earth could they be scheming about with the Germans? Our contact in Berlin thinks it is a fraud of some sort, one which could come to involve the Crown Princess. We cannot allow that to happen. We have enough to do diverting the scandals of the Prince of Wales, we don’t need one with his elder sister, as well. Not that the Princess has ever given us a moment’s trouble in herself.’

      ‘And how can I help? I hardly think I could infiltrate the League. I’m a good actor, as you said, but not good enough to pass as a Mrs Blakely.’ Nor was there likely to be a real Mrs Blakely by his side any time soon.

      ‘We just need you to go to Paris and make friends with this Friedland person. Make him think you are sympathetic to German interests and want to promote their friendship with Britain. Maybe romance Madame Renard a little. You know the sort of thing. Whatever it takes to find out what they’re up to.’

      Chris seemed haunted by Paris tonight, by old memories there. By the magic of Emily herself in Paris. ‘You want me to go to France?’

      ‘Yes.’ Ellersmere sat back, a confiding expression on his face. ‘You know, Blakely, we have been very impressed indeed lately by your work. You have uncovered information that was invaluable. A position is soon to be open in St Petersburg which will need a—lighter touch.’

      ‘St Petersburg?’ Chris said, astonished. It usually took years for a man to gain a posting at such an important court. And it was a notorious tangle of complications. ‘You need a jester in Russia?’

      Ellersmere laughed. ‘Hardly. It is an important post, private secretary to the Vice Ambassador, with much room for advancement if all goes well. You know, Blakely, when I was young, before I met Lady Ellersmere, I often took on tasks similar to yours. It was all most exciting. But we all grow older; we all must move forward, make changes when the time is right. A fascinating place, Russia, most challenging. You might enjoy it, even if the duties might seem a bit duller than your current work at first.’ His smile faded into sternness. ‘Provided this Paris operation goes off well.’

      ‘Indeed,’ Chris murmured, his thoughts racing. A real position, a high secretarial post? For him? One where he could be himself again at long last, find out what he could become once the mask was off. It sounded fascinating. It sounded like work he could grow into, now that weariness had set in at his rakish role. Could it be possible?

      Ellersmere sat forward, his hands clasped. ‘I know I need not tell you, of all people, the great need for secrecy in this matter, Blakely. Paris needs a frivolous touch right now, shall we say.’

      Chris nodded. He did, indeed, know how to be frivolous. He thought of Emily again, that disappointed look on her face, and a surge of energy for this new job filled him. ‘Then, yes. I think I am exactly your man.’