“I think,” Phoebe said, tucking her arm in Linnet’s, “that you and I, Penny, should escort Captain Trevission to a nice guest room, and learn just how she’s achieved such things in no more years than we’ve had.”

“Indeed.” Penny took Linnet’s other arm. “Clearly there’s much here we can learn.”

When Phoebe paused to give instructions to her kindly butler and her efficient-looking housekeeper, Linnet glanced back at the three men, and saw Charles’s and Deverell’s faintly concerned expressions-remembered Charles’s comment about not giving their ladies ideas-and finally understood.

Smiling, she looked ahead and allowed Penny and Phoebe to sweep her up the stairs. “Actually, there is one thing you could help me with.” Reaching the head of the stairs, she glanced at Penny, confirming, as they started along the corridor, that they were much the same height and not dissimilar in shape. “In return for the direction of my breeches maker.”

“Anything!” Penny declared. “At the moment, I would even gift you with my firstborn-he’s been a handful all day, wanting to follow his father, of course.”

Linnet laughed. “Thank you, but I have one of those-well, not mine, but one of my wards. But I really do need some gowns.”

“My wardrobe is yours.” Penny smiled intently. “Just as long as you tell us all you know.”

“All,” Phoebe said, halting at a door along the main corridor, “that our dear husbands are keeping to their chests.”

She set the door swinging wide, then ushered Linnet in. “Now-how about a bath?”

She had, Linnet decided, landed in some strange heaven.

She’d never had feminine companionship like this-freely offered, from ladies of her own class, her own generation. It was… a revelation.

Under Phoebe’s direction, a bath had been prepared, and Linnet had luxuriated, then Penny had arrived with a selection of gowns, all of which she’d insisted Linnet take, assuring her, “I always pack so much more than I need.”

While Linnet had dressed, then dried and combed out her hair, the other two had perched in the window seat and they’d talked. They’d shared bits and pieces of their lives openly with her, and she’d found herself reciprocating.

She and Penny had exchanged tales of horses and riding, shipwrecks and sailing, and she’d listened with rapt attention while Phoebe had explained about her agency, then they’d listened with real interest while she’d described Mon Coeur and explained about her wards.

Phoebe had instantly volunteered her agency should any of Linnet’s brood ever want to find work in England. “I can always place well-educated young women, and even young men, as companions or personal secretaries.”

Linnet had had no idea aristocratic ladies were so engaged and active.

When she’d said so, Penny had pulled a face. “The sad truth is, a lot aren’t, but we are, and all those you’ll meet when you reach Elveden-the end of your journey-are like us, too. We have the position, the wherewithal, and the ability, and so we do. Sitting and embroidering is definitely not for us.”

Phoebe had laughed. “In fact, not many of us can embroider. Minerva, Royce’s wife, does, beautifully, and perhaps Alicia might. But most of us are not, as one might say, accomplished in that direction.”

Linnet had grinned. “In that respect, at least, I’ll fit in.”

By the time the three of them went downstairs to join the men for dinner, Linnet was, to her very real surprise, relaxed, at ease, and indeed, in that moment at least, enjoying herself.

Not that she didn’t have a bone or two to pick with Logan, but that would have to wait until later.

Over dinner, the others were eager to hear about Logan’s mission thus far, from its beginning in India to when he and Linnet had arrived at the Seafarer’s Arms.

Reassured that all was well with Linnet-very aware that it was at his insistence that she’d been forced into a world she wasn’t accustomed to, and that any consequent unhappiness would lie at his door, and thus relieved and cravenly grateful to Penny and Phoebe for smoothing her way-Logan set himself to succinctly but comprehensively satisfy their curiosity.

Linnet listened, too, no doubt adding flesh to the bare bones he’d previously revealed to her, but she left all questions to the others. Charles and Deverell were experienced interrogators; they knew what to ask to clarify his story.

When it came to Linnet’s part in it, he didn’t hold back. She blushed at his compliments, his very real praise, tried to deflect attention by claiming it was no more than anyone else would have done-which argument none of the others accepted.

Penny waved Linnet’s words aside. “There’s no help for it-you’re heroine material. No point trying to clamber off the pedestal. You’ll just have to get used to the height.”

Which shut Linnet up. Logan thought she was dumfounded, which in his admittedly short experience was a first.

He took pity on her and quickly summed up their time in Plymouth, which brought them to the present and Paignton Hall.

They paused to allow the empty dessert dishes to be cleared.

When the footmen had withdrawn, Deverell asked, “So your mission’s a decoy run?”

When Logan nodded, Charles said, “From the way Royce is managing the four individual threads of this action, I suspect Delborough’s most likely a decoy, too. Hamilton I’m not sure about.”

Logan thought of his comrades, of Gareth, and especially Rafe, about whom he’d yet to hear definite information. He stirred, looked down the table at Deverell, then across it at Charles. “So what now? Where to from here?”

Deverell raised his brows at Phoebe, at the other end of the table. “Shall we repair to the drawing room to make our plans?”

Phoebe nodded decisively. “Yes, let’s. Aside from all else, we ladies aren’t about to leave you gentlemen to swap secrets over the port. If you want any spirits, bring the decanters with you.”

Deverell checked with Charles and Logan, but as none of them felt the need for any further bolstering, they left the decanters on the sideboard and fell in on the ladies’ heels as they led the way to the drawing room.

A minor distraction occurred when the respective nannies ushered in the Deverell and St. Austell children to say their goodnights. Logan watched as Linnet smiled and shook hands with Charles’s two little boys, and Deverell’s eldest daughter and his son, admitting that yes, she really was a ship’s captain, that yes, her ship was a big one with lots of sails, an oceangoing vessel, not a sailboat, but that as yet she hadn’t ordered anyone to walk the plank.

Satisfied, the children smiled huge smiles, bobbed bows and curtsies, and chorused their goodnights.

Penny and Phoebe handed their youngest children-Penny’s daughter, Phoebe’s second girl-to their husbands to jiggle, kiss, then return to the nannies’ waiting arms.

When the door finally shut behind the small cavalcade, Penny fixed her eyes on her husband’s face. “Right. Now cut line, and tell us what your orders are.”

Charles arched a brow at Deverell.

Subsiding beside his wife on one chaise, Deverell said, “I’ve already sent a messenger to Royce to report that Logan’s reached us hale and whole, and with his scroll-holder still in his possession. However, Logan was late in to Plymouth, so Royce has already sent us our orders for the next leg. We’re instructed to reach Oxford by the evening of the nineteenth, traveling via Bath, where we’re to stay at The York House. Further orders will await us at the University Arms in Oxford. Our ultimate goal is Royce’s house, Elveden Grange, just short of Thetford in Suffolk, but he’ll want us coming in on a specific route, on a particular day. Presumably we’ll learn which route and what day once we reach Oxford.”

Lounging beside Penny on the opposite chaise, Charles said, “Given the enemy knows you’re in England, and will almost certainly trace us to Totnes, I suggest we remain here in safety before doing a dash in the minimum number of days required to reach Oxford on the nineteenth.”

Deverell nodded, his gaze going to Logan. “We’re safe here-it’s close to impossible to successfully attack this house.”

Logan inclined his head. “So what’s the minimum number of days on the road to get from here to Oxford?”

“Two,” Deverell replied. “With the days so short-and we certainly won’t want to be traveling through the night, inviting attack-then it’ll take us one long day to reach Bath, and then a shorter day’s journey to Oxford.”

“That should allow us some flexibility as to which roads to take,” Charles said, “although I assume we’ll stick mostly to the main highways.”

Deverell leaned back. “Unless we have reason to do otherwise, that would be my plan.”

“All right,” Phoebe said. “It’s the sixteenth today, so that leaves you tomorrow to make preparations and get everything arranged, then the day after tomorrow, you leave for Bath.”

Everyone nodded. Charles looked at Phoebe, then Penny beside him. “I still can’t believe Minerva invited you and the children-and the other wives with theirs, too-to join us at Elveden.”

“Minerva,” Penny stated, adding for Logan’s and Linnet’s benefit, “she’s Royce’s duchess, is an eminently wise and sensible lady. And she’s now one of the grandest of the grandes dames , so of course we can’t possibly decline the invitation.”

“Especially not when that invitation so perfectly aligns with your own wishes,” Deverell rather acerbically remarked.

Phoebe struggled to keep her lips straight as she patted her husband’s hand. “Indeed. Especially not then.” She looked at Penny. “If they’re leaving the day after tomorrow”-she glanced at Deverell-“and I expect you’ll be away at dawn?”

Resigned, he nodded. “We should leave at first light, if not just before-if there’s any surprise to be had, we want it on our side.”