by Lori Bond
A Harmless Lie and a Dangerous Spy
Lori Bond
Covert Reads
Also by Lori Bond
Short Stories
A Princess, a Mission, and a Kiss
To Catch a Thief
(A Three Fates Short Story)
That Thing with the Hell Hound in Central Park
(A Pendragon Short Story)
* All of these stories are available in the FREE Covert Reads Starter Library. Click here to let me know where to send your books. *
About the Book
A Runaway Bride. An Heir to a Duke. A Russian Spy. The Crimean War. What Could Go Wrong?
Lady Caroline would rather do anything than marry the man her parents selected, including running away to America. Jerry, Viscount St. David needs help capturing a Russian spy. When Jerry offers Caroline the chance to help him on his mission in return for passage to New York City, she jumps at the chance. However, working in such close quarters leads both Caroline and Jerry to discover feelings neither expected. Will their new relationship lead to a stronger bond or jeopardize their mission?
Chapter 1
Running away was proving to be a great deal more troublesome than Caroline had anticipated. The planning and initial execution had been simple enough. It had been mere child’s play to abscond from her parent’s town house in Grosvenor Square in an old pair of clothes left behind by her younger brother. She had waited until the entire household, really the entire neighborhood, had retired for the evening before slipping down the backstairs—mindful of the ninth step that squeaked—out the kitchen door, over the garden fence, and then down the street to freedom. She had spent the early morning at a pawn shop with a moderately scandalous reputation selling the contents of her jewelry box and happily parting with the expensive trinkets sent by Mr. Bickle that her parents were adamant she not return.
After a light lunch of warm chestnuts purchased from a street child, Caroline had followed the maps she had memorized during the last week and headed for Paddington Station. She found the station without mishap, but she encountered her first major obstacle in the form of the surly ticket seller behind the grill.
“I have money,” Caroline tried again. She pushed another few pennies under the grill to prove to the man she could really pay.
“You could’ve robbed the whole Bank a’England.” The man gestured at the person standing in the line beginning to form behind Caroline to move up and take Caroline’s place. “I ain’t selling no ticket to some runaway school boy. I ain’t paid enough to deal with the trouble that’a bring.”
The man behind her, one of those “jumped up Cits” as her Grandfather liked to call them, pushed Caroline out of the way. He didn’t get a chance to so much as request a ticket when a lordly voice called from a little further down in the line. “George, lad.” The young man associated with the voice pushed through the growing crowd towards Caroline until he stood before her. He was taller than the few men Caroline knew, certainly taller than the detested Mr. Bickle. He was younger as well. While Mr. Bickle would never again see the younger side of forty, this man was probably only a year or two older than Caroline.
The newcomer stared down his nose at Caroline as if she were a rather unpleasant substance he’d acquired on the bottom of a shoe. It was the sort of look meant to make the object of such a glare feel abashed. Since Caroline had never seen this man before, she felt not abashed but curious. Instead of looking down in shame like such a glare expected, she stared back into brown eyes the color of Thames river mud.
“George, lad, I told you I would be purchasing the tickets. I promised your mother after all.” The man turned to the ticket taker. The fellow behind Caroline, the one that had pushed her so firmly aside, stepped to the side with good grace. The man calling her George had that effect on people. Based on his top-of-the-line clothing and general manner, she suspected this man to be an aristocrat or a very well-heeled member of the landed gentry. After all, her brothers and father had dressed in very similar cuts and cloths before the family fortune had fallen to the wayside. Her eldest brother still had the attitude despite his mounting debts and shabbier suits.
“Two, no, make that three First-Class tickets, for the Bristol Express.” The man turned to a much older man in good but not fine clothes. “I think you’ll need to join us in the carriage to help me take care of my wayward nephew.”
The second man nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
Caroline smiled a bit, satisfied that she’d been right about classifying this man as a lord. Her almost cloistered life had kept her from meeting most of the other members of the upper classes. One of her concerns had been that the observational powers she’d honed during her years of boredom would not serve her out in the real world. She was relieved to see this wasn’t so.
She was less relieved when the rest of the man’s words filtered into her brain. The “wayward nephew” must be herself. Although grateful for the young lord for getting her ticket, she hadn’t planned on riding with him.
“Oh, uncle,” she said, playing along. After all, the ticket wasn’t in her hand yet, and this little farce had guaranteed the ticket seller wouldn’t give her another ticket now. “You needn’t keep my ticket for me. I promise I won’t miss this train.”
The young lord handed the tickets and some change to his manservant. Before Caroline realized what he was about, he had grabbed her upper arm and started marching her towards the various tracks.
“Really,” Caroline said, outraged. No one, certainly not a strange man, had ever grabbed her in such a rough manner before.
“My apologies,” the lord said with a slight bow of his head, “but you looked as though you might bolt at the first opportunity.”
Caroline sighed since that had indeed been her plan.
“Besides, I’ve made a bit of an investment in you.”
“I can pay for the ticket,” Caroline interjected before he could drag her any farther. “It wasn’t lack of funds that kept that man from selling one to me.”
“I heard.” The lord gave a small smile that lacked a great deal of humor. “Up you go.” He handed her into the First-Class carriage as if she were a lady mounting the steps of Buckingham Palace rather than the boy she was pretending to be. Alarm bells began chiming in her head. She tried to exit the door on the other side of the compartment, but it was already locked. The man gestured for her to take a seat while the manservant stowed the small bag he carried under a seat. Both men than sat across from her. The compartment started to feel very small and the men very big. For the first time, Caroline began to doubt the wisdom of all of it—from getting cornered on a train to running away in the first place. The odious Mr. Bickle had to be avoided at all costs, but could she not have thought of any other way out?
“Now, my little lady, shall you tell us why exactly Thomas Stravers’s little sister is trying to leave London in his old clothes.” The man crossed his arms. The glare had returned, only this time it had its desired impact.
Caroline stared down at the floor. “Oh. You know who I am.”
Chapter 2
Jerry sat back against the uncomfortable padded seats in the First-Class compartment. He could only imagine how uncomfortable the other class cars must be. He stretched his legs and eyed Lady Caroline Stravers, only daughter of the Earl of Wickshire, and the most elusive lady in Society. According to her parents, Lady Caroline had been languishing in her bed for the last three years, ever since they brought her up from her seclusion in the country and moved her to the seclusion of town. The fact that she had never succumbed to the vague malady thought to beset her was often mentioned as a modern miracle.
Jerry had long doubt
ed the stories due to a glimpse he’d had of Lady Caroline two years back. She’d been running red-faced and laughing up the stairs as he and his father, the Duke of Danvers, had been exiting the Earl’s study. Bored by the exchange of goodbyes, Jerry had wandered out into the hall before his father and had glimpsed the girl. The quality of her dress had convinced him that she was no maid but the daughter of the house. With his father and the Earl still in the study, only Jerry had witnessed the invalid’s roaring good health.
Jerry hadn’t said anything about it then, but he did comment on it now. “At least it’s good to finally see you out of your bed, Lady Caroline. Your condition seems markedly improved.”
Up until that moment Lady Caroline had seemed quite put-out that someone had recognized not only her sex but her name. Curious, that she had not only not wondered how he knew her but had yet to ask him who he was. Perhaps the mention of her brother had allayed her suspicions and she thought him safe. A foolish assumption.
At the mention of the illness she looked back up at him, confusion in every line of her wrinkled brow. “What condition? I haven’t been ill since that time I broke out in spots. That was, what?” She paused for a moment thinking. “Nearly fourteen years ago.”
“My mistake.” Interesting that she didn’t seem to know about the rumors her entire family had floated around town about her.
Her eyes narrowed, and she studied him for a moment. “I doubt you make many mistakes, my lord. Should I assume that most think me unwell? That would explain a great many things,” she muttered to herself.
Up until now, Jerry had always assumed that the girl had been hidden away by her family for lacking wits. Since he knew her to have no physical malady, he had assumed either madness or no intellect. However, she was clearly sharp and observant and able to think on her feet. She had assumed the role of his nephew without coaching or a single explanation. That might be useful.
He searched her eyes for madness, but her eyes were clear and bright, very different from the madmen he’d met while touring St. Mary Bethlehem with his father last month. Perhaps she merely hid her madness well. That could be useful too.
Jerry tapped his fingers on his knees and glanced at Wellburn out of the corner of his eyes. As usual, his valet had his eyes fixed on the far wall, apparently oblivious to the conversation, although Jerry knew he was memorizing every word. Jerry had discovered Wellburn’s unusual and highly valuable skills a couple of years ago. He had been a loyal confidante ever since, despite their age difference. Jerry wouldn’t want anyone else at his side while trying to unravel the mystery of why London’s most sequestered miss was trying to run away in castoffs.
“We’re headed to Bristol,” Jerry said at last to break the silence. “You’re welcome to join us there and later on to New York, if that would convenience you.”
Jerry could almost see the wheels turning in Lady Caroline’s mind. She nodded, and a small smile lit her face for just a moment before she turned solemn again. Jerry was struck by how different the smile had made her face. For a moment she again resembled the imp of the girl on the stairs, the one who had appeared delighted to have escaped the school room.
“New York would serve admirably,” she said, sounding all business. “It’s not as good as Paris although it’s probably safer being farther from my parents than I would be in France. And it’s a sight better than Australia.”
“Australia?” Jerry’s eyebrows nearly rose off his head. “Were you in danger of deportation?” Perhaps she was a madwoman.
Lady Caroline glared at him like she suspected he was the one a bit mad. “Of course not. It was the farthest place I could think of from home.”
Jerry nodded. So running, and running far.
“To be honest, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to afford the fare to Australia,” Lady Caroline confided in him. “I’m not well-versed in the sums needed to traverse both the Atlantic and Pacific. I suspect I have enough to pay for passage to New York.” She settled back a bit in her seat, although her back was so ramrod straight even the strictest of governesses would be pleased. “I will of course reimburse you for my fare,” she added primly.
His mind started spinning, wondering how far he could push her desperation. He doubted she had much in the way of money. She’d probably pawned her jewelry for pennies on the pound, and if the whispers about Wickshire’s finances were true, then she might have had little enough of that.
He studied her for a moment. Although sheltered, she was smart, seemed observant, and able to keep her wits about her even in trying circumstances. He nodded more to himself than to her. Taking her on would marginally increase his chances of success on this uncertain venture.
He sat forward a bit and looked her straight in the eye. “I find myself with a sudden need of a wife.”
Chapter 3
Caroline recoiled back as if she’d been slapped in the face. “No, absolutely not,” she garbled out almost in a blind panic. “If I had wanted to get married, I wouldn’t have bothered to leave home.” Her eyes shot around the compartment, but she wouldn’t be able to get out while the train continued running down the track. Even once they stopped at a station, she’d still have to get past the servant. Such a superior being was most likely a gentleman’s gentleman, but that didn’t guarantee that the man wouldn’t hold her against her will if that was what the little lord wanted.
“Ah,” said the lord, leaning back again. “So, it’s like that.”
Caroline realized she’d said too much. She took a deep breath and tried to bring her heartbeat back under her conscious control. It was a trick she had learned when trying to avoid losing her temper at her ridiculous family. Her heart still thundered on, but she did manage to erase the look of panic from her face giving the lord her blankest look instead.
The lord smiled at as if he approved of the way she had regained control. Perhaps he was simply relieved she hadn’t succumbed to a fit.
“It’s not exactly like that,” Caroline said, trying to work out how to remedy the situation. She had to convince the young lord to at least not pack her onto the first train back to London and an engagement she despised. “I am not opposed to marriage as an institution.” When she saw he looked about to laugh, she added, “Or even to myself someday entering into that state.”
She gathered her breath, and unbidden the coarse Mr. Bickle and his undeniable wealth rose into her mind. “I am opposed to Mr. Bickle.”
“And what is a Mr. Bickle?” asked the lord.
Caroline felt a moment of surprise. Mr. Bickle had been the object of her nightmares for so long that it was inconceivable that the man wasn’t known by all. She wasn’t too surprised, though, not really. Mr. Bickle wouldn’t run in the kind of circles that a lord of this man’s caliber frequented. To be honest, it was a mystery to her how Bickle and her father even knew one another.
“Mr. Bickle is an acquaintance of my father that my family feels that I should marry.”
“Why? Ladies of your class usually marry from the aristocracy. I take it Mr. Bickle is not even gentry.”
Caroline bristled at the implication. “I’m no snob. My dearest friend is Olive, and her parents haven’t got an inch of land between them.”
The lord grinned, his smile reaching to his eyes and for a moment, he looked so familiar Caroline almost placed him. Despite the unlikelihood that she would ever have passed him in the street or at the small church her parents favored, she realized she’d seen this man before, stranger though he might be. “You haven’t answered my question,” he said.
Caroline stifled the sigh that wanted to escape. “Over the past five years, my father and oldest brother have managed to amass a rather sizeable amount of debt between the two of them.”
The lord failed to look surprised. “Your brother has terrible taste in horses.” He shared a glance with his man-servant. “Among other things.”
Caroline didn’t bother to decipher the riddle. She had no interest in her lack-wit brother.
“Your father though has always seemed a temperate man. I am surprised he is in trouble as well.”
“Father is a fool,” Caroline said, not holding back her words. She didn’t care if her manner shocked her companions. For her entire life her family had lamented her lack of sensibilities and greater lack of sense. A tendency not to overreact to every minor situation had labeled her an unfeeling wretch who could not comprehend the world around her. Caroline comprehended the world just fine. After all, she had been smart enough to catch the embezzlement even if her father had disbelieved her. “My father’s estate manager has been siphoning greater and greater funds off the estate for years. When I took my discovery and the proofs to my father, he disbelieved me. Talk of Mr. Bickle began soon after.” Caroline looked away, not wanting the men to see how much the rejection had stung.
“How did you discover an embezzlement?” The lord seemed surprised, despite his effort to hide his emotion.
Caroline shrugged. “How else? I read through the ledgers. Honestly, I’m not sure how father could miss the anomalies. They weren’t well hidden.”
The lord sat back. Caroline couldn’t tell if he looked impressed or amused. Perhaps both. “You can read the estate’s books, meaning you have a fairly good idea how large this debt runs.”
Caroline nodded.
“And this Mr. Bickle has the kinds of funds to rescue your family from penury?” The doubt in the lord’s voice drew Caroline’s attention back to him. She studied him trying to place his face. For some reason a keyhole popped into her mind.
“I feel I should have heard of this Mr. Bickle if he were as wealthy as all that,” the lord continued.