Chapter 7
Seven
The house was quiet enough that it made her nervous.
There were no footsteps echoing in the corridors and not one door slammed shut.
Even the fire in the grate seemed to crackle with discretion.
Vivy stood in Ravenwood’s study with her hands clasped before her and stared at him uncertain what to do next.
The room smelled faintly of leather and brandy and the clean bite of ink.
It was the sort of room a man might retreat to when he wished to be alone with his thoughts.
It was not the sort of room for whatever it was that was happening between them.
She could not imagine Ravenwood would have ever wished to be alone with her like this.
He stood opposite her with his shoulders squared.
His gaze had gone hard with contained emotion.
She was not certain what he was trying to hold back and that made her even more curious.
He poured himself another brandy and sipped it as he continued to stare at her.
“I am waiting,” he said in a low tone. “For you to tell me what was in the note and what names you recall.”
Vivy drew a breath. Her heart still beat too quickly from the carriage ride and from Phillip Wren’s pale face.
She had had kept secrets and for a good reason.
She had not lied to him. Vivy hadn’t known who to trust. She had not meant to cause anyone harm, but her actions had led to that man’s injuries.
She didn’t know how, but she knew it with a certainty that she could not ignore.
The consequences of her decisions stood in front of Vivy, frustrated with her.
“I will,” she said. “All of it.”
His gaze sharpened, as if he had not expected compliance so quickly.
Vivy swallowed. “But you must…” She stopped, annoyed at her own tremor. “You must stop looking at me as if I am a fool.”
A flicker passed through his eyes—something like reluctant understanding. He set the glass down and leaned back against the edge of the desk as if he were giving her space without surrendering authority.
“I will not make you promises I do not know if I can keep,” he said, finally.
“But I will try to always treat you with the courtesy you deserve. There may be times I will be curt and it may seem as if your feelings do not matter. That cannot be further from the truth. In the moments I seem dismissive or even rude it isn’t about you at all.
It is about your safety or the safety of others.
My actions are meant to keep you alive and well. ”
Vivy took another breath, nodded, and then began.
“A note was slipped into my reticule,” she told him again.
“It had plain wax, no crest, and no signature.” Her fingers tightened around one another as she recalled the coldness that had crept over her skin when she first read it.
“It said…Some secrets should never be discovered, and you, my dear, have uncovered the wrong truth. Stay silent if you know what is good for you, or you’ll regret ever snooping through your father’s study. ”
His jaw tightened. “And you told no one.”
“Only you,” Vivy replied, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “The note said to keep silent.”
His eyes narrowed, but then he nodded. “Continue,” he said.
“So, I… I went into my father’s study. I looked for whatever I might have disturbed without realizing it.
I admit that I am often too curious for my own good, but before that night I never saw anything that would have warranted that note.
” Her cheeks warmed, but she refused to look away.
“I found a hidden compartment in my father’s desk and a packet bound with twine. ”
“That is where you found the list,” Ravenwood said.
Vivy nodded. “Yes, with all the names and the notes next to them. Words like discharged. removed, compromised, and awaiting orders.” Her voice caught slightly at the memory of seeing certain names in ink. Her heart had stilled when she had read Ravenwood’s. “I recognized some of them.”
His expression tightened further, as if each word she spoke confirmed an idea he had not wanted. “I did not take the entire packet,” Vivy continued. “Only the list. I told myself I needed it to make sense of what I’d found, and I would put it back once I understood it all.”
“That is when,” he murmured, “you began making inquiries.”
Vivy lifted her chin. “I was careful.”
He made a sound that might have been a laugh in another man. “Of course you were...”
“I did not ask anyone outright if they were spies,” Vivy said sharply. “I am not an imbecile.”
His gaze flickered in surprise and then turned into something that looked dangerously like amusement.
It vanished almost at once. She wanted to do something to remove his amusement.
How irritating… Vivy pressed on before he could speak.
“I began with the gentlemen I was acquainted with and I thought…safe.”
“Safe,” he echoed, and she heard the edge beneath it.
“I spoke to Viscount Slothington,” Vivy said. “I have known him for a number of years because of Posy.”
His eyes narrowed. “What did you ask?”
“About you,” Vivy admitted. “To see what he would tell me.” Her cheeks burned. “But only after he brought you into the conversation.”
Ravenwood went very still. Vivy swallowed, forcing herself to continue. “You were with me when I met the Marquess of Everington and you heard what I asked him.”
His gaze hardened. “Everington is on the list then”
“You were also with me for most of my conversation with Thornhill as well,” Vivy said.
“Truthfully, I learned nothing from any of you. It was more a feeling I got while I talked with the three of you. None of you acted like the gentlemen I’ve had interactions with since I was launched into society. ”
His mouth tightened, as if he had words he wanted to unleash and would not permit himself to do it. “In what way are we different?”
Vivy took a breath and made herself say what mattered most. “Slothington uses sarcasm to ensure people leave him alone and it works. Thornhill is a very skilled charmer, but if you look closely enough you see the facade, and Everington…”
“What about him? Not charming enough for you?”
She shook her head. “Oh, he’s charming, certainly. I could tell that even from the brief conversation we had. It wasn’t until I asked him about traveling that the wariness entered his gaze. He’s not as skilled as he believes at hiding his secrets. Someone should tell him he needs more practice.”
Dash sighed. “He isn’t as active as some of us are. So, you are right. He does need more experience.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “You recognized Wren’s name when I whispered it.”
“Yes, when we found him in the hedge and you said his name. I recalled it from the list.” She clenched her fingers together.
Something in Ravenwood’s face shifted, it was a mix of anger and something colder. But she had gotten through most of the explanations. He pushed off the desk slowly. “Tell me the names you remember.”
Vivy’s pulse leapt inside her chest. This was the moment that felt most dangerous. Not because she feared him, but because saying the names aloud made them real. It turned ink into living things.
She drew a steadying breath. “Leander Ashby,” she began. “The Duke of Lionston.”
Ravenwood’s gaze did not change. “Go on.”
“You know the other lords as I spoke with them.” She blew out a breath
Vivy lifted her chin stubbornly, because it was too late for delicacy. “and Phillip Wren.”
His eyes flashed—gold to green—so quick she might have imagined it. Ravenwood’s jaw tightened. “Anyone else?”
“There were others,” Vivy admitted, frustration spreading through her. “I cannot recall them all. Some I did not recognize and that made it harder for me to find them to ask questions. So, I decided they could wait. I have told you the ones I remember with certainty.”
Silence filled the room, heavy as velvet. At last, Ravenwood spoke, “Thank you for telling me it all,” he said. “When we return to London would you please give me the list and the note.”
“I…” She frowned. “Why?” He was no longer a spy. What would he need with that information. “You’re not involved with the war or spying. Shouldn’t it go to someone who can do something?”
“I am not involved at the war office. You’re right.” He sighed. “But I am still…active.”
She nodded because she suspected as much. Of course he was still a spy, and that meant he would always be involved in some sort of trouble. She should have known that. He had always been observant and formidable. “I will give it all to you.”
“Good,” he said and then smiled at her. “Now that we have settled that we have another matter to discuss.”
“We do?” She couldn’t imagine what.
“We do,” he said. “You want me to call you Vivy. I have complied. But we have a problem. You still refer to me as Lord Ravenwood.”
Vivy blinked, and mumbled. “Well, you are Lord Ravenwood.”
What was he asking of her here? Did he not want to call her Vivy and this as his way of telling her that? She was so confused by this turn in their conversation.
His gaze held hers. “Not to you.” Her heart stumbled as she stared at him. He took a slow breath, as if the words cost him. “You may call me Dash.”
Vivy’s throat went dry. She had imagined his name on her lips a thousand times, always in secret, always in the quiet of her own thoughts. “Dash,” she repeated, and the sound of it felt oddly intimate in the austere room.
His gaze darkened—not with anger, but with something she could not name. “And,” he said, voice rougher now, “I will call you Vivy as you requested.”
Vivy’s breath caught. “All right…”
“I must admit that I do prefer it,” he said, as if that settled everything.