Not by Sight Read Free Page A

meaning of her white feather finally registered with him? She’d never stopped to consider that her actions might cause violence upon her person.
    A scream welled in her throat as he grabbed her by the waist and, with a muttered curse, lifted her easily. Did he intend to toss her across the room?
    He set her gently to one side, then strode to the nearest exit.
    Dazed, Grace turned to watch him leave. “You!” sputtered the outraged Queen Elizabeth, and then she met with the dowager’s look of shocked recognition. “I shall speak to your father, young woman,” she promised, before raising a hand to signal a servant.
    Grace went clammy with fear, and for an instant she thought to escape. Yet she knew there was no turning back—Lady Bassett could hardly forget the incident.
    Colin’s image rose in her mind, renewing her determination. Her brother was counting on her! Quickly she sidestepped her hostess and managed to thrust two more white feathers of cowardice into unsuspecting hands before the butler grasped her arm.
    Five minutes later, she and Agnes were ejected from the house.
    “That was close,” Agnes said in a breathless tone. “I handed out my last feather before the butler got me.” A burst of hyena laughter escaped her.
    Grace grinned, her pulse racing. “I handed out just a few, but one which I hope will reap many returns.” She nodded toward Jack Benningham, who was climbing into a cab without a backward glance. “He’s an earl’s son, a public figure. If he enlists in the Army, I feel certain his conchie friends will follow.”
    Never would Grace forget the look on his face before he stormed from the ballroom. She’d made her point, and if ruffling the conscience of the arrogant coward might help her brother win the war, she was satisfied.
    What she didn’t want to think about was Lady Bassett’sthreat. Grace knew Da would have the whole story before the kettle was on at Swan’s the following morning.
    ———
    Jack drove off in the cab, barking instructions to the driver as he mentally cursed his own lapse. He’d not only let the German agent slip from his grasp, but now he risked losing Chaplin. His only recourse was to follow him back to his den and interrogate him, perhaps salvage the situation.
    Leaning back in the seat, he frowned at the white feather she’d given him—the mysterious auburn-haired minx who had caused his distraction.
    If his current circumstances weren’t so dire, he’d have been more amused and thankful for her action. Jack was aware of his enemy’s recent surveillance of him. His cover as a conscientious objector seemed dangerously close to being compromised, a condition that also concerned Marcus.
    Pandora’s feather had done much to aid his deception, yet he doubted the knowledge would please her. Who was she? Jack had been sorry to leave, for she was not only beautiful but seemed to have a mind of her own—a novelty among the women he normally associated with.
    He smiled, recalling the passion in those angry green eyes. And her lips, so tempting to kiss, particularly when she frowned at him.
    Jack looked out at the fading twilight toward the docks ahead. His humor waned. He’d made a mess of things tonight. Only by staying focused could he possibly minimize his losses.
    Still, he allowed himself another smile as he raised the white feather to his lips. Whoever she was, he would find her, his Pandora—and get that kiss.

2
    T HREE M ONTHS L ATER C OUNTY OF K ENT —J ULY 1917
    Surely being banished never felt so good  . . .
    With the smallest twinge of guilt, Grace jotted the words into her journal, then raised her face to the brisk summer breeze blowing in through the open window of the cab. She marveled at the pastoral beauty of the Kent countryside. It seemed unsullied and tranquil compared to town. Thatched-roof cottages and rustic barns lay interspersed among groves of alder and plane trees, the fading white flowers of the rowan in sharp contrast