The King's Code (The Lady Spies Series #3): A Regency Historical Romance Read Online Free Page A

bestowed?”
    “Mathematics. Well, more specifically, I won recognition for my theses in differential calculus.”
    “Theses?”
    “Yes, I’ve written three,” she explained. “Although the suppositions of these papers were, to some degree, interrelated.”
    “I see.” Falcon stared at the small woman, who looked as though she should be shopping, not formulating mathematical theory.
    “I . . .” She bent her head to search her reticule and then lifted it, holding out a letter. “I’ve brought a letter of recommendation from mathematics professor Quinby of Oxford.”
    Falcon read the astounding two-page letter and glanced at the brilliant woman seated before him. “This is a marriage proposal.”
    Embarrassed, the girl cleared her throat and stroked the back of her upswept hair.
    “Well, yes. Professor Quinby came to my home to meet J. Pervill and saw that I was . . . not—”
    “Male?” Falcon chuckled.
    “Quite. However, if you read further, you will see that the reason for Professor Quinby’s proposal was his . . .” The girl turned her head so that she could read the letter to recall the correct phrasing. “‘Undying admiration of my immense mathematical mind.’ See it is right there.” The lady’s delicate gloved finger darted out to point toward the bottom of the correspondence.
    “Yes.” Falcon nodded, to keep from laughing. “I might be old but I can read, my lady.”
    “Of course you can read, my lord,” she said, blushing. “You would not have risen to the position that you hold at the Foreign Office otherwise.”
    “Ah.” Falcon leaned forward, intrigued. “And what position is that?”
    “Well, I am not sure precisely, but from our previous conversation, you appear responsible for dealing with any number of serious matters.”
    “Yet, you have not come to me this afternoon to discuss my position within the Foreign Office.”
    “No, indeed not, my lord.” She looked at her lap. “You no doubt have heard of my . . . situation. Perhaps more accurately described as my ruination?”
    Falcon nodded regretfully. “I have, yes.”
    He had also heard why the girl claimed to have been accosted, and from what information he had obtained about her wastrel of a father, Falcon had no doubt that Lady Juliet’s assertions were true.
    Unfortunately, the ton was not so reasonable.
    “Well.” The girl lifted her chin. “If I am to be condemned to a life of isolation, I thought I should rather do something with my time than spend the remaining years of my life wasting away in the countryside writing mathematical theory for Professor Quinby.”
    “That is far more useful a life than the pursuits of polite society.”
    The lady looked him directly in the eye.
    “I want my skills to mean something, to be used for something other than having my ideas procured by men to further their intellectual ambitions. I want to work for you, my lord, for Britain.”
    Falcon sat back, the implications of her offer sending him slightly off balance. “Ladies of polite society do not work for the Foreign Office.”
    “Well, that is rather the point, is it not? I am no longer recognized as a lady of polite society. I am an outcast whose behavior is beneath the notice of the ton . And,” the young woman stressed, “you do not strike me as the sort of gentleman with whom social stricture holds an ounce of weight.”
    “And what does hold weight for a man such as myself?” Falcon raised a brow, curious to hear her reasoning.
    “Getting results.” She held his eye. “Choosing the person best capable of accomplishing the assigned task. Whether that person be noble or common. Male or . . . female.”
    “And how do I know you are more capable than the men I already have working for me, Lady Juliet?”
    “You don’t,” The woman shook her head and shrugged. “But as I shall work without compensation and with utmost discretion . . . you have very little to lose.”
    They stared at one another, eye to eye,