The Deception of the Emerald Ring by Lauren Willig Page B

their heads ."
    "And the back door to England lies open to him," finished Geoff grimly. "Why do something yourself when you can get someone else to do it for you?"
    Wickham rubbed one wrist with the opposite hand in a habitual gesture of fatigue. "Bonaparte will let the rebels do their worst, and then march his men in at as little bother and expense to himself as possible."
    "Unless," said Geoff, his keen gray eyes fixing on the map of Ireland above Wickham's head, "the rebellion can be snuffed out before it begins. Bonaparte won't be willing to invest in a full-scale invasion. He doesn't have the money."
    "Not snuffed out," corrected Wickham. "Rooted out."
    Geoff weighed the distinction, nodding slightly to signify understanding. "That's where I come in."
    "Exactly. The Pink Carnation is already in Dublin, working to subvert Emmet's contacts with France. I want you to cover the Irish side." Wickham began ticking off tasks on his fingers. "We'll need the names of the ringleaders, their methods of operation, and their sources of funds. We know they've been manufacturing and storing arms. Those caches will need to be found and confiscated." Wickham paused, frowning abstractedly into space. "Emmet has rented a house in Butterfield Lane in Rathfarnham under the name of Robert Ellis."
    "Hardly the most creative of aliases," commented Geoff. "You think he meant to be found out?"
    "Precisely. We waste our resources watching the house in Rathfarnham while he wreaks havoc in Dublin. He's a clever man, even if he does write damnably bad poetry."
    An unexpected stab of pain caught Geoff somewhere just below the heart. In the study at Pinchingdale House sat a half-finished poem, dedicated to his Mary. He never had succeeded in rhyming "entice" with "delight." It was too late now. Any poems he addressed to Mary at this point would be elegies, rather than love lyrics.
    With an effort Geoff pulled his attention back to the matter at hand. "Emmet's verse was bad enough that Richard and I suspected it might be a code, but it didn't prove susceptible to any of the usual tests."
    Wickham nodded. "I had Whittlesby in Paris look Emmet's poems over. He arrived at the same conclusion. You'll have to look farther than his poetry to divine his plans."
    Geoff nodded and rose to his feet. "I have some ideas."
    Wickham held up an admonitory finger. "One more thing. You know that your friend Dorrington has apprehended the Black Tulip?"
    "He mentioned something to that effect," replied Geoff. "But he didn't go into details."
    As to why Miles hadn't gone into details well, there were some things the War Office just didn't need to know.
    In response to a summons from Miles, as urgent as it was incoherent ("Black Tulip has Hen. Help!"), Geoff had gone haring off to Loring House, ready to do his bit for the rescue mission. Instead, he had found the fray already over, and a very battered Miles and Henrietta beaming at each other in a way that didn't bode well for Miles's continued bachelordom. Where there was Miles, one could usually find Henrietta, but one didn't usually find Henrietta with her arm around Miles's waist, gazing up at him as though she were Cortez and he was her newfound land.
    Geoff had retreated with a haste that bordered on flight.
    He was happy for them. Truly. He couldn't imagine two people more ideally suited than Miles and Henrietta.
    He just wasn't awfully keen on the word "marriage" at the moment.
    "I assume you know the Marquise de Montval?" Wickham inquired, reaching for a small packet toward the end of his desk.
    "Peripherally," replied Geoff. The English-born widow of a guillotined French nobleman, her undeniable beauty had made her hard to miss. Ever since her arrival in London, she had been determinedly pursuing Miles, much to the distress of Henrietta.
    Henrietta had had a ridiculous theory that the marquise was working for the French, that she was, indeed
    Geoff frowned. "You don't mean to say ?"
    "The Black Tulip," confirmed