When Napoleon had escaped from Elba and reclaimed his crown, she had immediately returned to her post in Paris so she could send information to London. After Waterloo, most of the diplomats and hangers-on from the Congress had convened again in Paris, so she had resurrected the countess and rented a house worthy of her rank. But she was getting very tired of being someone other than herself.

Over the years Robert Anderson had played many parts. He had helped her become established in her covert career, and had channeled the money that enabled her to live comfortably and pay her informants. He had also created her lines of communication, not easy when Napoleon's Continental System had closed almost all European ports to the British. At various times information had been sent through Spain, Sweden, Denmark, even Constantinople.

Of necessity, Robin had traveled extensively. Maggie guessed that sometimes he carried vital messages to England himself, crossing the Channel secretly with smugglers. He spent about a third of his time with Maggie, with months passing between visits. His work was far more dangerous than hers, and she was always relieved when he reappeared, jaunty and intact.

For most of those years they had been lovers. Even in the beginning, when she had been in desperate need of his kindness, she had known that what she felt for him was friendship and gratitude, not romantic love. Yet she had drifted along, enjoying the warmth and physical satisfaction they found together. He was her best friend, the man she trusted most in the world, the brother she had never had.

Then one day, three years before, she had woken up with a powerful conviction that friendship was not enough, and that the time had come to end their intimacy. She owed Robin so much, and cared for him so deeply, that it had been wretchedly difficult to say that she no longer wanted to share his bed.

But he had always been the most considerate of lovers, and he had made it easy for her. After she had made her halting statement, he had gone very still for a moment. Then he said calmly that of course he didn't want her to do anything that made her uncomfortable.

They were still friends, they had continued to work together, and he had still lived with her when he was in Paris. The only difference was that he had a separate room.

The fact that Robin had accepted the change in their relationship with such good grace confirmed that he also viewed her more as a friend than as a life's partner. Though he had offered to marry her shortly after he had saved her life, she knew that he had been relieved when she had turned him down.

Still, though she never doubted that she had done the right thing, her bed had been cold and lonely. No doubt that was why Rafe looked so blasted attractive… Hastily she changed the direction of her thoughts.

Robin had recently emerged from the murkier pools of spying to join the British embassy as a clerk. Maggie assumed that his identity was known to Lord Castlereagh, but the rest of the mission probably thought he was merely an agreeable rattle of no particular ability.

She was glad that he was nearby, and not only because she enjoyed his company. Given the possible threat to the peace negotiations, his remarkable talents were needed.

After deciding on her plan of action, Maggie donned her inconspicuous widow costume and set off to visit her most useful informants. If her women knew what to look for, they should be able to add to Maggie's sketchy knowledge. And if she was lucky, her friend Helene Sorel would soon be back in Paris and able to assist in the task.

Over pot-au-feu, a long baguette of bread, and a jug of wine, Maggie and Robin discussed what they had learned in the last twenty-four hours. Splitting the last of the wine between them, she said, "We're agreed then?"

"Yes, the three men we have decided on are the most likely masterminds, though we'll have to watch half a dozen more." Robin ran a tired hand through his fair hair. "Even then, we may not have the right man."

"Well, it's the best we can do. I suppose we could warn the guards around the most important persons, but there have been so many other plots that everyone is already cautious."

"True." Robin studied Maggie's face. There were shadows under the changeable gray-green eyes, as if she had slept badly. "I have an idea you're not going to like."

Maggie's mouth quirked up. "I have disliked the majority of your ingenious ideas over the years, so don't let that stop you."

Refusing to respond to her teasing, he said, "I think that you and Candover should pretend you are lovers."

"What!" Maggie banged her glass down so hard the wine sloshed out. "Why the devil should I do a mad thing like that?"

"Hear me out, Maggie. Our suspects are all senior officials who divide their time between fighting over the treaty and attending salons and balls with the rest of the diplomatic corps. The best way to approach them is by going to the same places."

"Can't you do that?"

"I'm not important enough. A junior clerk would be out of place at the more exclusive functions."

"Why can't I go by myself?"

Robin said patiently, "Maggie, you're being unreasonable. It was bad enough going to that Austrian ball alone-if you do it again, it will be assumed that you are looking for a lover. You'll spend all your time fighting off men who are interested in you for nonpolitical reasons."

"I have had ample experience dealing with that!"

Ignoring her interjection, he continued, "Candover is a perfect escort. He's important enough to be invited everywhere, yet he has no official government position. And, of course, he's a friend of Strathmore's and here to help us investigate this conspiracy. If you and he go about together, you can go anywhere and talk to anyone without rousing suspicion."

Fighting a valiant rearguard action, Maggie said, "Do you think it's really necessary for me to do this, Robin?"

"Your intuition is the best weapon we've got." He caught her eye, trying to impress his opinion on her. "Time and again you have felt there was something wrong about a person we had no reason to suspect, and have been proved right. In the absence of hard evidence we are going to need every advantage we have, which means you must get well enough acquainted with our suspects to develop an opinion, and perhaps pick up some clues. But you can't do that unless you get close to them."

"You're right," she said reluctantly. "If I knew them well, they wouldn't be on our list because I would already have an excellent notion of their innocence or guilt. But I don't know if I can make convincing cow-eyes at Candover. I'm more likely to throw a glass of wine in his arrogant face."

Robin relaxed, knowing he had won his point. "I'm sure that someone with your magnificent acting skills can do a good job of draping yourself over the duke. In fact, I should think most women would envy you the job."

Ignoring her snort, he added, "Besides, this investigation might be very dangerous, much more so than your usual sort of work. We're talking about desperate men, and time is running out for them. The Allied rulers are all anxious to finalize the treaty and return to their kingdoms. They should be gone by the end of September at the latest, so if anything is going to happen, it will be in the next two or three weeks."

"So?" she prompted.

"If someone suspects you, your life could be forfeit," he said bluntly. "Candover might not be a professional agent, but he looks like he'd be useful in a fight. Since I can't be near you most of the time, I'll feel better if he is."

"Since when have you decided that I am incapable of taking care of myself?" she snapped.

"Maggie," he said gently, "no one is invulnerable, no matter how clever he-or she-is."

Her face paled at the reference. Robin didn't like reminding her of the circumstances of their first meeting, but wanted to ensure that she would be cautious. He knew from experience that Maggie was brave to the point of recklessness.

After a moment she gave him a resigned smile. "Very well, Robin. Assuming Candover can be convinced to cooperate, he and I shall become an object of gossip. We will be seen everywhere, and will appear so enraptured that no one will suspect us of having a useful thought in our heads."

"Good." He stood. "Time to go. I have to meet someone who never lets himself be seen by the light of day."

Maggie rose also. "Since time is in short supply, I'll pay a visit to Candover and explain his dire fate to him. But if he objects, I will give you the job of convincing him."

Robin shook his head. "I think it better that he not know of our connection. You know the first rule of spying."

" 'Never tell anyone anything he doesn't need to know,' " she quoted. "I suppose you're right. Candover is an amateur at these games, and the less he knows, the better."

"Let's hope he proves to be a talented amateur." After a light farewell kiss, Robin was gone. Maggie closed the door on him with a sense of vexation. Here he was, worried about her safety, when she expected that what he was doing was twice as dangerous.

She shrugged and climbed the stairs to her room. If she had been of a nervous disposition, she would never have lasted long as a spy. Far better to spend her time wondering how she was going to tolerate so much time around Rafael Whitbourne.

In stage-mad Paris, the playhouses were an accurate barometer of public opinion, so Rafe decided to spend the evening at the theater. It was a disquieting experience.

All playhouse managers had been ordered to admit free of charge a certain number of soldiers from the armies of occupation. Unfortunately, what had been intended as a goodwill gesture had resulted tonight in brawling in the pit between Frenchmen and Allied soldiers. Though no one had been badly injured, the performance had been disrupted for almost half an hour. Another English playgoer had casually mentioned that such disturbances were not uncommon.