Once Upon a Spy: A Secrets and Seduction Book

by Sheridan Jeane

  “I need to hire a cab,” she told him.

  He made a crisp turn and hurried to do her bidding. A moment later, a well-appointed carriage pulled up to the door. Its driver sat bundled against the cold and wore a muffler and ear-warmers.

  “Where to, miss?” the footman asked as he stepped forward and opened the carriage door for her.

  “Where?” Antonia froze for a moment and stared blankly into his hazel eyes. She certainly didn’t want to give her true destination. After all, the Russians were certain to discover the theft of the church register once the courier arrived. What if they decided to investigate any guests who departed early? The footmen would reveal her destination, and someone would follow her there. Her true destination would be as good as a calling card. Why hadn’t she considered this sooner? She needed to think of someplace else. Fast.

  The footman stared at her expectantly.

  She opened her mouth, hoping a lie would spring to her lips, but she could think of nothing.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  A person who doubts himself is like a man who would enlist in the ranks of his enemies and bear arms against himself. He makes his failure certain by himself being the first person to be convinced of it.

  - Alexandre Dumas

  Robert and his brother strode down the empty ground-floor corridor as they rushed past closed office doors.

  “Aren’t you going to ask where I was?” Frederick asked.

  “What?” Robert was so focused on finding Copper-Eyes that it took him a moment to remember he’d been worried about his brother’s disappearance. With a quick glance, he noted Frederick’s mussed hair and rumpled clothing. He cocked one eyebrow. “Fine. I’ll ask. You look a bit rough. Where were you?”

  “In one of the vacant bedrooms. Lady Harrington followed us up there and waylaid me.”

  The blunt confession left Robert momentarily stunned. He paused, his gaze raking over his brother, seeing his dishabille in a different light and noting the way he cradled his newly re-bandaged hand. “You entered a bedroom with her? Are you telling me that while you were off trysting with a beautiful young widow, you left me to” —he lowered his voice— “to recover that bloody book?”

  Frederick’s face reddened. “Don’t be ridiculous. Trysting? I was not trysting. Lady Harrington was merely concerned about my injuries. Where is that bloody book?”

  “Your unkempt hair makes me doubt the truth of your claim, but to answer your question, the book is gone. Stolen right out from under me.” He met his brother’s gaze. “I’m sorry. I’ve failed you.”

  “What? You let someone take it? How could you be so careless?”

  A surge of emotion overwhelmed Robert, and his anger and frustration caused him to snap. “If you’d been where you were supposed to be, it never would have happened. I might have been a fool for losing it, but you were completely irresponsible for disappearing. We both share the blame.”

  Robert tried to keep walking, but Frederick stepped in front of him, forcing him to halt.

  “What happened? Who stole it?”

  Robert took a deep breath. “A woman. She tricked me into believing—” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that we find her before she leaves the embassy. We don’t have time to argue.” He stepped around his brother and continued down the corridor. Frederick remained where he was, clearly stunned by the news.

  Guilt flooded him. If the only way to correct his error was to track down Copper-Eyes, then track her down he would. He might hate being pulled into someone else’s problems, but he’d be damned if he’d fail at it once he’d made the commitment. Especially not when war was at stake.

  Robert heard his brother hurrying to catch up with him as he shouldered his way through the door separating the office corridor from the Koliada Ball—

  — and straight into the path of one of the last people he wanted to encounter— a footman wearing full livery.

  Although being tall, young, and handsome were standard requirements for a footman, this particular man appeared to be quite a bit older than most, and he had a military bearing.

  The man took a step back from Robert, lifted his chin, and widened his stance as though preparing for battle.

  Judging by the man’s air of steely determination, he wouldn’t be easily swayed. The delicate situation called for guile, so Robert suppressed his urge to punch the man. That would be tantamount to admitting guilt, and he couldn’t afford to set off an international incident.

  Robert considered his options. Perhaps he should take a page from the copper-eyed thief’s book of tricks. He stumbled to a stop, clutched the door frame in a white-knuckled grip, and swayed on his feet. “I’m not feeling well,” he mumbled.

  Frederick appeared in the doorway next to him, and Robert loosened his grip on the door frame to grab his brother’s arm, squeezing it in a warning.

  “Assist me,” Robert demanded, glaring at the footman. Then he clamped his hand over his mouth. “I think I ate a bad shrimp.”

  The faux-footman’s eyes widened, and he scooted back, apparently eager to remove himself from Robert’s trajectory. He muttered something in Russian which Robert recognized as a curse. Russian curse words had been among his favorites to collect as a boy at Eton. “Chamber closet is there,” he said in a thick Russian accent, pointing toward a door, “or you can use privy outside.”

  “Privy. Please. Hurry. I don’t want anyone to witness this.”

  The footman sped through the door from which Robert and Frederick had just emerged and nearly ran as he led them down the corridor to the rear of the embassy.

  Once outside, the footman pointed wordlessly toward a privy near the stables.

  Frederick wrapped Robert’s arm over his shoulders and helped him lurch toward the tiny outbuilding. “You showed some quick thinking,” he murmured.

  “Let’s hope it works, and fast. We don’t have time to waste.”

  Robert stumbled inside and slammed the door, latching it behind him. When he peeked back outside through a gap near the hinge, he could view the footman standing at attention. The man was most certainly a soldier. Robert swore softly to himself.

  “He needs more convincing,” Frederick murmured through the door.

  More convincing? How? “We’re running out of time. She could be escaping while we’re stuck out here.”

  “And we could be arrested and held if you don’t convince that man you’re really sick.”

  Robert considered his options. After a moment, he began making retching noises. Loud ones.

  “That should do it,” Frederick said. From his tone, he seemed to be enjoying himself far too much.

  “You’d better not be smiling,” Robert said. “You sound entirely too cheerful. You’ll give us away.”

  “Not to worry. I’m pacing and looking distraught.” More loudly he said, “Do— do you need assistance?” The hesitation in his tone made it clear he didn’t want to make the offer but believed doing so was his brotherly duty.

  Robert made more stentorian retching noises.

  “He’s leaving,” Frederick said in a low voice. “And fast. Perhaps my pointed stare in his direction when I offered to find you some assistance drove him away. Either that or he decided to find someone to help.”

  “Let’s go.” Robert pushed on the door, but it wouldn’t open. Through the cracks, he could see Frederick leaning against it.

  “Wait a moment. I can still see him.”

  Robert stood in the fetid privy as seconds ticked past. Finally, the door inched open. His brother jutted his grinning face inside. “That was a fine hookem-snivey,” he said.

  “Pardon me? A hooking what?”

  Frederick grinned more broadly. “A hookem-snivey. What, you’ve never heard of it? A hookem-snivey is when someone pretends to have an ailment in order to beg alms. You’d excel at it. I’m certain you’d be successful if you ever needed to employ it fo
r ‘some of the ready.’”

  Robert arched an eyebrow at his brother’s use of cant. “Is this another skill you’ve developed? Speaking in slang?”

  “It’s like learning another language.” Frederick grinned. “If our footman takes pity on you and offers up ‘some blunt,’ I’ll split it with you.”

  “You’re enjoying yourself entirely too much,” Robert said, but as he glanced up, he saw his brother disappearing in the darkness in the direction of the house. Did he plan to return to the ball? “The girl must be gone by now,” he said, pitching his voice so only his brother could hear him, even as he hurried to catch up. “Why don’t we simply leave from here and try to find her?”

  Frederick responded without slowing his pace. “There are a multitude of reasons, one being that our hats and cloaks are in there, and I would prefer not to lose them. There’s also the fact that leaving them behind would strike our host as suspicious.” They passed through a pool of light emanating from one of the windows, and Frederick glanced at him. “But paramount is the fact we must search the embassy for your thief. She might still be here.”

  As Frederick pushed the door open, he glanced back at Robert. “Remember to appear unwell.”

  “And remember you injured your hand,” Robert replied.

  “I’m not at risk of forgetting. It hurts like the blazes. Fortunately, the whiskey seems to be taking the edge off of the pain. Lady Harrington insisted I drink something as well— for medicinal purposes. You know I don’t hold my liquor well.”

  Not hold it well? That was an understatement. Alcohol might relax Frederick at first, but it didn’t take long for him to become irritable and antagonistic. The few times in their lives they’d ever come to blows had been after Frederick had had too much to drink. The man simply didn’t have the temperament for it. Robert had the distinct impression that Frederick’s relaxed phase was coming to an end. It wouldn’t be long now before his darker side surfaced.

  Once inside, the two men prowled through the public areas and scanned for the thief. As they entered a room with tables piled high with a tempting buffet, Frederick nudged him. “Is that her?”

  Robert followed his gaze toward a solitary young woman perched on a chair. The padded bench next to her sat vacant, and as Robert watched, an older woman claimed it. “No. Our girl is smaller and prettier, with rather unusual chestnut-brown hair with some lighter bits— it reminded me a bit of a sunset on an overcast day.”

  Frederick froze and then slowly turned to peer at Robert, his eyes narrowing in a knowing way. “Lord. She seduced it away from you. It’s obvious.”

  Robert could feel the heat rising in his face. “You’re one to talk. Where were you again, while all this took place?”

  Frederick’s face reddened. “I don’t like your implication. The lady was worried about my injury.” He turned his back on Robert, leading them toward the only room they hadn’t yet searched.

  Robert followed him into the large Golden Hall. A beautiful crystal chandelier illuminated the space with steady gas lit flames. The crystals sent glimmers of reflected light onto the butter-colored walls adorned with paintings by Russian artists.

  As Robert and his brother weaved their way through the room, guests pressed against them from all sides. With his height, Robert found it relatively easy to identify most people, but he worried he might miss the small thief in the crowd. He scoured the room with the dwindling hope of spotting the woman who’d deceived him so thoroughly.

  He found no sign of her. He’d failed. “She isn’t here.”

  Frederick’s shoulders slumped as though all his energy suddenly left him.

  They moved past the small grand piano and a blond woman in a blue dress spun around to face them. Robert immediately recognized her. When she saw Frederick, she let out a small gasp of surprise, and her hand darted out to touch his arm, halting him.

  “Josephine— I mean, Lady Harrington,” Frederick said. His face reddened.

  She yanked her hand away. “Lady Harrington? We’re back to that?” she asked, her voice tinged with ice. “I’m surprised to discover you here. Again. I thought you needed to leave most urgently. After the way you hurried me downstairs with claims of a dire emergency, I never would have dreamed you’d still be here.” She glanced at Robert. “I can hardly fail to notice nothing dreadful befell your brother.” She lifted her chin, her eyes cold with dignity and a deep-seated anger.

  Josephine looked glorious. Her glossy blond hair had a lustrous glow as luminous as the strand of golden pearls draped around her neck— probably chosen for that very reason. Despite Frederick’s relationship with her, even Robert had to admit he found Lady Harrington both beautiful and beguiling— not that he’d ever act on it.

  Clad in a distinctive shade of light-blue satin, her signature color, she stood in sharp contrast to Frederick’s coal-black hair and black tailcoat. Where Frederick might intimidate people with his air of underlying intensity, Josephine drew them in with her goodness and light.

  Frederick must be certifiably mad for avoiding her.

  By every appearance, they made a perfect couple— whether Frederick chose to acknowledge it or not. Even Robert sensed the charged atmosphere surrounding them. They held themselves apart from the other guests, frozen in place by the powerful, intense emotions entangling them.

  Robert averted his eyes from their intimacy and focused his attention on the pastoral scene of Russian peasants depicted in the nearest painting. He distracted himself by noting the artist’s choice of subject matter offered a sharp counterpoint to the room’s opulent decor, much as the dark and brooding counterpoint Frederick provided while standing next to Josephine.

  Someone jostled Frederick while passing by, and he let out a hiss of pain. Josephine loosened her grip on Frederick’s sleeve and glanced down at his burned right hand, wrapped in a dry white cloth. Her expression immediately softened, all anger swept away by her concern. “Are you in much pain?” she asked.

  Frederick gave an unconcerned shrug. “The vodka helped.”

  Vodka? When had Frederick drunk vodka? And what had possessed him to drink both whiskey and vodka?

  Robert began growing impatient. They needed to continue their search, but he didn’t know how to proceed if Copper-Eyes had already escaped. He needed to consult with his brother, but not while standing in the middle of the Golden Hall.

  “He puts on a brave front,” Robert said, “but I think we should leave and tend to his injury.”

  “I’ll go with you,” she said, and her tone made it obvious she would brook no argument. “My housekeeper is quite skilled at concocting poultices. I’ll send my carriage to bring her to your home.” But then something changed in her face— a tensing of the jaw, a narrowing of the eyes. “That will give us a chance to have that conversation you’ve been avoiding.”

  Frederick sent Robert a pleading glance. Poor man. Robert had seen that expression on a woman’s face before, and woe to any man who tried to thwart her. He hated interfering, but their urgent need to recover the book prompted him to intervene. “That isn’t necessary. I don’t want to inconvenience you. Our physician can care for him.”

  “Fiddlesticks,” Lady Harrington said. “I couldn’t possibly stay and enjoy myself knowing Fre— Mr. Woolsy is suffering.” She pressed her lips in a thin line.

  Frederick glanced at Robert and raised a not-so-subtle eyebrow, begging him to intervene further, but he only shrugged in reply. He’d already interfered more than he should. Frederick needed to solve his own dilemma. Besides, he could tell Frederick’s ire was rising. Robert didn’t want to become a convenient target.

  He moved away from the couple and leaned against the inner curve of the grand piano. In a false show of indifference, he settled in for what he assumed would be a rather interesting exchange. He only hoped it would be brief as well.

  Frederick shot him a disgusted scowl before returning his attention to Josephine. “I can assure you, Lady Harrington, there’s n
o need for you to trouble yourself.” Frederick’s gaze darted around the room. “My brother is using my hand as an excuse for leaving when the true reason lies with him. Don’t abandon the ball on my account.”

  Lady Harrington peered at him more closely. “I beg to disagree. I examined your hand earlier and am well aware of the severity of the burn. You’re quite pale and there is a sheen about you I find most troubling. I believe your hand pains you much more than you’re willing to admit.”

  At that, Robert examined his brother more closely. Lady Harrington was right. Frederick did appear rather unwell. “Perhaps we should accept the offer.”

  “We? I was unaware you’d been burned as well.” Frederick’s ire flickered for a moment, but then it faded. Apparently, anything more than a brief flash of temper was beyond him at the moment.

  That troubled Robert even more.

  “It’s settled,” Robert said, pushing himself away from the piano.

  “No, it isn’t,” Frederick said too loudly, his anger taking hold. This wasn’t good. Frederick rarely lost control, but when he did, things rarely ended well. They needed to leave.

  A nearby couple glanced in their direction.

  Robert stepped forward. “Not here. Not now. Don’t compound tonight’s mistakes by drawing attention to us.”

  “My biggest mistake came in relying upon you,” Frederick interrupted, glaring at him. “Tonight has been an unmitigated catastrophe.”

  “I already apologized for my error, and I’m trying to correct it, but I’m not the only one who made mistakes tonight.”

  “Fine,” Frederick said too loudly, “have it your way. Eto moya vina.” It’s all my fault.

  Several people with furrowed brows and tense expressions turned to stare at them.

  Robert reddened. This was not the way to avoid notice. He leaned toward Frederick and Lady Harrington. “Rather than staging a public scene, I suggest we send for our carriage.”

  “Fine, but I refuse to rely on you again. I’ll send for the carriage myself.” Frederick spun on his heel and stalked off, heading directly toward the cloakroom.