His answer was gruff, almost harsh. “That still does not make me suitable for your task.”
Skye eyed Hawkhurst in frustration. She was not about to admit failure, not when she felt such great urgency to act. His spy career might still be shrouded in secrecy, but her aunt had been completely frank about his romantic affairs. Hawkhurst soon intended to wed the great-niece of his superior and mentor—a marriage of convenience strictly for political purposes.
He had not begun his courtship yet; he was merely readying his house to receive a new bride. But given his plans, Skye had little time to discover if they were a match, and if so, to somehow prevent his betrothal and marriage to another woman.
She was never one to turn away from a challenge, though.
Tamping down her frustration, she offered Hawkhurst her most winning smile. “Just hear me out, my lord. Please. It is the least you can do, given your friendship with my aunt.”
Leaning back in his chair, he folded his arms over his chest. “Very well, you have five minutes.”