The Scarlet Spy

by Andrea Pickens

  Because the thought was more daunting than any danger she had faced. All of her training had stressed the importance of keeping an emotional distance between herself and everyone around her. She couldn’t quite picture being part of a real family.

  “A painting seems an awfully tenuous connection by which to claim a connection to a noble title.” Sofia shot an appealing look at the marquess. “Don’t you agree, sir?”

  “I think that is something only you and the duke can decide,” said Lynsley softly.

  “But I am so used to being alone,” she whispered. “Our worlds are so different. I fear I’ll never quite fit in.”

  “You will find your own place, Sofia. Of that I am very sure.” The marquess clasped his hands behind his back. “However, before you turn in your spurs for satin slippers, I will need to have a final report on the mission.”

  Osborne, who had stepped back into the shadows during the last exchange, suddenly turned and cleared his throat. “Before you two march off, might I have a private word with Sofia?”

  “This is rather important, Osborne,” said Lynsley dryly.

  “I promised the minister a report within the hour. Can’t it wait until morning?”

  “So is this.” Osborne stood his ground. “And, no, it cannot.”

  “Very well.” The marquess hesitated, fixing Sofia with a fatherly smile. “It seems as if I’ll be losing another of my best agents. Your roommates have found family by marriage, but you …”

  Osborne coughed. “Sir.”

  “Ten minutes, Osborne.” It might have been merely a quirk of the candlelight, but Sofia thought she saw him wink. “On second thought, I’ll allow you fifteen.”

  “That doesn’t leave me much time.” Osborne winced as he tried to smile.

  How his lip had come to be cut was not something he remembered. By now there were precious few parts of his anatomy that weren’t covered with scrapes or bruises. He ached all over. But the sharpest stab was in his heart, as he recalled how close he had come to losing Sofia.

  “First of all, I want to thank you for saving my skin,” he said.

  She didn’t meet his gaze. “I was simply returning the favor.”

  Her tone—so cool, so casual—sent a shiver down his spine. Did she mean to say she was merely doing her job? This wasn’t going to be easy. He wasn’t sure he had the courage to make himself so vulnerable.

  Coward. It was Sofia who possessed the indomitable spirit of a true warrior … not to speak of the sensual body of a woman. Brains and beauty—it was an irresistible combination. He had lost his heart and soul to her. He must somehow summon the strength to tell her how much he had come to admire her conviction, her courage.

  How he had come to love her.

  Love. It wasn’t a word he had much practice in saying aloud. Most other phrases tripped so easily from his tongue. Be it art, poetry, politics, fashion, there wasn’t a subject on which the ton did not seek his informed opinion. The charming, witty Deverill Osborne could always be counted on for a clever quip. A lighthearted laugh. But now he wished to be deadly serious. For so long he had wondered who he really was, what he really wanted. Suddenly the answer seemed right before his eyes.

  “Sofia. Please look at me,” he said.

  Her face was a little lopsided, her lovely features streaked with soot and scratches. As Osborne leaned closer, a reflection in the silver epergne showed that he looked even worse. He couldn’t help it—he started to chuckle. “Lord, what a pair we make.”

  That finally drew a ghost of a smile from her. “The ton would be horrified. We’ve broken every one of their rules on deportment and decorum. And then some, I suppose.”

  “But we got the job done.”

  “There is a difference,” whispered Sofia. “It was my duty, while you … I should never have allowed you to risk your life.” Her lip quivered as she spoke, the first sign she was not in complete command of her emotions.

  The small sign gave him the heart to press on. “Should I not be allowed to choose for myself? You did. I may not have honed my skills to as sharp an edge as yours, but perhaps with a bit more practice …” Osborne paused for breath. “By the by, does every Merlin’s man have to pass through a trial by fire to win her hand?”

  The question seemed to catch her off guard. Staring down at her muddied shoes, she mumbled a halting reply. “I … I am not sure. You would have to ask Lord Kirtland or Mr. Orlov.”

  “I have a good deal to say to my friend Julian when next I see him,” he replied. “But right now, my most pressing question is for you, Sofia.”

  The case clock in the corner continued to tick off the time. Lynsley would soon be knocking, and if he allowed her to slip through his fingers, he might never have a chance at this moment again.

  Do or die.

  “Will you marry me, Sofia? Proper etiquette dictates that I should have some flowery speech, some precious jewelry to accompany the proposal.” He took her face between his scraped palms and tilted it upward. “But at this moment, all I can offer is me and my heart.”

  The candlelight caught the flutter of her lashes. And then the shimmering spill of a tear. “You are,” she whispered, “a gift beyond words.”

  “I love you,” he murmured. “Or should I say, ti amo.”

  Her lips touched the corner of his mouth. “Love has a language all its own.”

  “Does that mean …”

  “That I love you too?” Sofia’s caress feathered against his flesh. “Of all my secrets, that was the hardest to hide, Deverill. I think I have loved you since that first glimmer of sunshine cut through the shadows of the drawing room.”

  “You certainly had a strange way of showing it.”

  “I will likely never behave like a real lady.” She drew back a touch. “Can you live with that?”

  “Let me consider the question for a moment.” His hug tightened, joining their bodies as one. “I think the answer is yes.”

  Osborne lost count of the time. All he knew was that the kiss ended far too soon. “What’s the hurry?” he murmured, keeping hold as she tried to slip out of his arms. “Lynsley can cool his heels for another few minutes.”

  “I get demerits for dereliction of duty.” She smiled, but he saw a shadow of doubt cloud her eyes. “But before he returns, we still have something to resolve. Are you sure about marriage? I can’t promise to be a conventional wife. I doubt I shall ever be able to forget all the lessons I have learned at the Academy.” Her mouth quirked. “As you have seen, docility and obedience are not among them.”

  “If I wanted a creature to obey my every command, I would get a dog.”

  “I’m very fond of animals,” she murmured. “Could we consider a cat as well?”

  “You may have a whole menagerie of beasts—dogs, cats, hawks, unicorns. Just so long as I am one of the creatures you care for.”

  “You are the only creature I care for, Deverill. Now and forever.”

  “Amen,” he murmured. “May I take that as a yes?”

  “Yes.” There was a fraction of a pause. “But—”

  He groaned. “Please, no buts.”

  “But this is quite serious,” insisted Sofia. “Can you imagine what will happen if word gets out about who I really am? Society would be utterly scandalized by your making such a shocking match. A secret government operative—one who trained in a host of unladylike skills—is not at all the proper wife for one of London’s most popular lords. Not that anyone will know the full truth, but still, I would not wish to make you the butt of vicious gossip.”

  “My love, if we can outwit a group of dangerous criminals, we can certainly deal with the ton. Trust me on this. You forget—you are already a contessa in their eyes. That you are also the Duke of Sterling’s long-lost granddaughter will be greeted as a wonderfully romantic tale.” He grinned. “I can already think of the beginning—It was a dark and stormy night …”

  Sofia burst out laughing. “Perhaps Lynsley should think of recrui
ting you to our ranks. You do have a gift for duplicity and deception.”

  A knock on the door interrupted their embrace.

  “Speak of the devil.” Osborne sighed. “I suppose we had better report for duty.”

  “Right.” He felt her hesitate. “I don’t quite know how to break the news to him. Or to the duke. I’m far more skilled with weapons than with words.”

  He took her hand. “Follow me. From now on, whether we are marching into the jaws of death or a ducal drawing room, we will do it together.”

  “Osborne.” Surprise deepened the lines on the duke’s face as he looked up from the Roman coins he was studying.

  “Forgive me for the unannounced intrusion. Your butler wished to stop me, but I wouldn’t take no for an answer.” A few hours of sleep and a change of clothing had improved his appearance to some degree, but Osborne did not doubt that his face still looked like hell. “I know I am not a very pretty picture at the moment. But I thought you would want to hear my news without delay.”

  Sterling’s hand was trembling slightly as he set down his magnifying glass. “Has it something to do with Elizabeth’s locket?”

  “Yes,” replied Osborne. “And with Robert’s death.”

  “You mean to say the two are related?”

  Osborne nodded.

  “For the love of God, man, go on!”

  “Actually, it is not for me to say more. The person you really wish to speak with is just outside the door. She, more than I, has been instrumental in seeing that the truth be brought to light.” He glanced back at the polished panels of oak. “Shall I ask her to come in?”

  Sterling scraped back his chair and rose. “Please,” he whispered, his voice as unsteady as his legs.

  Sofia took a tentative step into the room. She did not feel much like a Merlin at the moment. It was not confidence taking wing within her—it was a flock of nervous butterflies fluttering against her rib cage.

  What to say? She felt tongue-tied. All her training seemed to desert her. She had never felt so awkward, so unsure.

  “Don’t be shy, Lady Sofia.” Osborne came to her rescue, offering his arm and an encouraging wink in the same smooth motion. “Chin up, my dear,” he murmured. “You’ve faced far more fearsome challenges than this.”

  “Hah,” she breathed, but his humor helped her relax.

  “Contessa.” The duke held out his hands to greet her. “What a pleasant surprise.” He smiled, but he turned a questioning look to Osborne.

  Osborne in turn regarded her.

  “Perhaps you had best be seated, sir,” she said with a wry sigh. “My unexpected appearance here is likely to be the least of the surprises you will receive this afternoon.”

  Osborne began to retreat toward the door.

  “Deverill,” she said faintly, losing what little courage she had.

  “I’ll be right outside, in case you have need of me. But I am confident this is one battle you can fight on your own.”

  “Battle,” echoed Sterling. He eyed her with a mixture of concern and confusion. “The two of you look as though you’ve faced off against Lucifer and his legions. But I confess, I am bewildered by how this is linked to me and my family.”

  Uncurling her fist, Sofia reached out and pressed the chain and locket into his unresisting hand.

  The duke staggered slightly, as if the weight of the world had just been placed in his palm. “Where did you get this?”

  “From the woman who looked after me as a young child. Who in turn received it—and me—from her sister…” She told the tale in a rush, watching the waves of conflicting emotion flood the duke’s face. Shock, sorrow, regret. But most of all, love.

  “Why, that means you are …”

  “Maybe not,” she said quickly. “We can never be truly sure, sir.”

  His gaze met hers, and lines etched around his eyes seemed softened by the shimmering trickle of tears. “Oh, my dear, there is not a shadow of a doubt in my mind, now that I look at you closely. I see Elizabeth in the shape of your smile, the curve of your cheek, the strength of your character.” He opened his arms to her. “Welcome home, child.”

  It was some time before either of them could speak again.

  When finally Sofia lifted her head from her grandfather’s shoulder, she wasn’t sure whether she was laughing or crying. “Dear me, I fear this may take a while to get used to. My past has not schooled me for a life of privilege and wealth.”

  Sterling sighed. “Which begs the question of how you came to be here in London, calling yourself Contessa della Silveri.”

  “That was a cover,” admitted Sofia. She went on to give him a terse explanation of the Academy, Lord Lynsley’s role as secret spymaster, and her recent mission. “And so, in the end,” she summed up, “the miscreants have been caught and some measure of justice has been achieved for Lord Robert. Without his sacrifice, we would never have uncovered what was going on.”

  The duke leaned back rather heavily against his chair. “A school for spies? Why, I’ve known Lynsley for years, and he never gave a hint at being involved in such dashing dangers.”

  “He takes great care to hide his endeavors beneath a cloak of boring respectability.”

  “Indeed, indeed,” mused Sterling. “Is Osborne also a part of your network?”

  “Not officially,” murmured Sofia. “But he played a crucial role in defeating the enemy.”

  “I will be sure to thank him and Lynsley. And you, my dear.” The duke reached out to twine his fingers with hers. As if drawing strength from her closeness, he squared his shoulders. “Like a phoenix, you rise from the ashes of loss. It is a miracle.”

  “Merlins are said to have a bit of magic.”

  “I quite believe it.” Sterling squeezed her hand. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you here after all these years, taking your rightful place in the bosom of your family.”

  “It is only right to inform you that you are getting more than you bargained for, sir—”

  “Please, you must call me Grandfather rather than sir, Sofia.”

  It felt very strange on her tongue. But then, there were a great many things she would need to learn. Practice makes perfect. Smiling, she began anew. “What I meant to say, Grandfather, was that I hope you will not mind making room for yet another new family member. You see, Lord Osborne has proposed, and I have accepted. I hope you will not feel too crowded.”

  Throwing back his head, the duke gave a hearty laugh. “The more, the merrier. Let us call in your betrothed, along with a bottle of champagne. This calls for a toast.”

  “Indeed it does,” said Osborne, throwing open the door and signaling for the footman behind him to pop the cork. “To family.”

  Epilogue

  “To family.”

  As the afternoon sun filled the duke’s gallery with a soft glow, Sofia watched Lynsley raise a salute and take a sip of his wine. It must be hard to swallow the loss of a well-trained agent, she reflected, though the marquess’s gentlemanly smile gave no hint of censure.

  “Kind of you to stop by and offer your congratulations,” said Osborne. He rose from the worktable, where he and the duke were sketching plans for the wedding decorations, and drank from his own glass. “Thank you for accepting the news with such good grace.” A week had passed since the night of the fire, and the banns had just been posted.

  The marquess sketched a polite bow. “I have learned in this business that one must be flexible. And pragmatic. All of the Merlins eventually leave the nest.” He turned to Sofia. “I wish you joy.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She had found love, she had found family, she had found herself. The only sense of loss was in parting ways with the Academy. She must leave the dirt and the dangers behind now that she was taking her proper place in Society. It seemed impossible to think that the two worlds could ever coexist.

  Sterling came over to shake Lynsley’s hand. “Forgive me, Thomas,” he said, wiping away a tear. “I seem to have turned
into a watering pot in my old age. However, allow me to thank you for redeeming the death of one grandchild. And for bringing a lost one back to life.”

  “I am not the Almighty, Henry. Merely a humble servant of the government. But I am happy to have been of some service to you.” The marquess did dart an ironic look at Osborne. “In all truth, I ought to be angry—I can ill-afford to lose such a sterling agent with Napoleon marching on Moscow.” He exaggerated a sigh. “But love conquers all.”

  The duke laughed.

  Sofia turned away, feeling the sting of salt in her eyes. The marquess was in many ways like the father she had never known. She was sorry for letting him down.

  Lynsley, to his credit, did not harp on his disappointment. Indeed, he sounded quite jovial as he asked about plans for the wedding trip.

  Sterling cocked his head. “I thought I mentioned to you that we are all going to my estate in Scotland for an extended stay. The Highland heather and moors around Craigellachie are lovely this time of year. The young people will have a chance to relax and recover from their ordeal. And I shall have an opportunity to become better acquainted with my granddaughter.”

  “Ah, yes, you did mention something of the sort.” The marquess coughed and turned to Sofia. “I don’t suppose I could interest you in a small task while you are there? There are rumors of French agents infiltrating along the North Sea coast. I could use a pair of trained eyes to look around and report on the situation.” He drew out a crumpled map. “But, of course, you likely have other things on your mind.”

  Sofia looked longingly at the weather-stained paper. “It is going to be awfully quiet there,” she murmured.

  “It wouldn’t do to have a bored bride,” drawled Osborne. “However, if you wish to accept the marquess’s proposal, I will have to insist on an additional clause to be added to our marriage contract.”

  “Which is?” she asked softly.

  “That any danger we face, we face together.”

  The duke clasped Lynsley’s arm. “Come, let us have a celebratory sherry in the library and leave the two of them to negotiate the terms in private.”