Once Upon a Spy: A Secrets and Seduction Book

by Sheridan Jeane

  In a sudden flurry of movement, they scrambled backward, and both men turned and ran back the way they’d come, desperate to get as far as possible from the tip of Lord Wentworth’s sword. They disappeared into the fog, but Antonia didn’t move until the echoing sound of their running feet faded into the distance.

  She listened so intently to the disappearing footfalls that the sound of metal sliding against metal from right next to her made her jump and turn in fright. Lord Wentworth stood inches away as he slid his sword the rest of the way into its sheath, transforming it back into a nondescript black cane.

  “You saved me. Why did you do that?”

  He seemed surprised by her question. He shook his head. “It’s a mystery to me. I need the book.” He held his hand out. “Give it to me.”

  She shook her head and stepped out of his reach, eying his false cane. “I can’t.”

  “Of course you can. You just don’t want to.”

  “No, really. I can’t,” she said, taking another step back. “I don’t have it. I gave it to someone else for safekeeping.”

  He didn’t look surprised. Instead, he looked determined as he took a step closer to her and dropped his hand to his side. “Then we’ll go retrieve it.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  Wentworth sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he seemed calmer. He cast an assessing gaze along the dingy alleyway. “I don’t want to stand here with you and argue. The stench is appalling. I’ll escort you home and we can talk along the way. I’m sure we can find a hackney once we’re on a main road again.” He offered his arm, just as any gentleman would for any lady.

  Just as he had in her many fantasies of him over the past five years.

  She stared at his arm.

  Something inside her heart broke at that simple gesture. Why, after such a horrible night, should that small sign of respect pierce her so?

  Her hand trembled as she reached out to wrap it around his proffered arm. It was such an inconsequential, gentlemanly thing for him to do, but it symbolized everything she’d lost over the past year.

  He must have noticed her hand shake, because his arm tensed and then he pulled her closer to him. “You’re safe with me,” he said in a gruff tone. “I won’t harm you.”

  Antonia chided herself. This wasn’t her fantasy. This was reality. And in this reality, Lord Wentworth expected fear from her. He wasn’t her knight in shining armor. He was her adversary.

  At least he hadn’t guessed the real reason she trembled. Having him know the truth would be much, much worse. Because then he might pity her, and his pity had the power to wound her more deeply than his sword ever could.

  As they moved down the alleyway, the warmth of Lord Wentworth’s body began to seep into her. That felt wonderful. At least she didn’t need to feel guilty about stealing his body heat. She wished she could turn her face into his shoulder to avoid the stench of the refuse, but he’d probably think her mad. What kind of woman sniffed a man?

  As they exited the narrow alleyway and turned onto a much broader and cleaner street, Antonia realized she still clutched the knife in her hand. She tried to tuck it one-handed into the pocket of her cloak, but fumbled.

  Lord Wentworth must have noticed the movement, because he stopped abruptly and glared at the weapon. “What is it with women and knives tonight?” He sounded exasperated.

  “My lord?”

  “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “Just put it away.”

  She paused, wondering if he’d elaborate on his cryptic comment. When he didn’t, she tucked the knife into her pocket and then fell in step with him as he continued down the sidewalk.

  There were streetlamps along this particular road, and as they passed beneath one, she glanced up at his profile. “I want to thank you.”

  He looked down at her and attempted to smile, but his lips only pressed into a thin line. “For which part of the night? Saving you from those two men? Intervening with Lady Lydia? Or perhaps you want to thank me for stealing the church register from the ambassador’s desk so you could take it from me?”

  She blushed at this and glanced away. “I’m aware my apology is no consolation, but I am sorry I locked you in that room.”

  “I should hold you accountable for that, but I’m feeling magnanimous. After all, I willingly allowed you to pull me in there. It’s unfortunate what transpired next wasn’t what I’d hoped.” The smile that curved his lips sent tingles of awareness down her spine.

  She stared at his mouth as heat rose in her face and her stomach fluttered. She recalled the strength and contours of his body as she’d pressed against him in that bedroom. Would his taste have been as delicious as his touch? She’d nearly known the answer to that. She’d barely resisted stealing a kiss from him along with the book. Perhaps she should have taken one as her prize. She licked her lips and couldn’t drag her eyes away from him. “I’m sorry I tricked you, my lord.”

  “‘My lord—’ that seems so formal. You must call me Robert. After all, we thieves should be on a first-name basis, don’t you agree?”

  She arched her eyebrows. “You’re stepping outside the boundaries of propriety with that request. I’m nothing but a lowly actress.”

  “There’s nothing lowly about you,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that made her toes curl. He leaned closer as he murmured in her ear, “You’ll find I’m quite shocking at times. My family’s grown to expect it.”

  His breath brushed against her neck, warming it in an intimate way. Lord, but this man overwhelmed her.

  Antonia pulled away, not wanting him to see how much he affected her. She shouldn’t let him move her so deeply. After all, they weren’t even friends.

  They were adversaries— a fact she needed to remember.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Let every eye negotiate for itself and trust no agent.

  - William Shakespeare

  Robert glanced back at the sound of a carriage approaching behind them and spied a hackney. He hailed it, and soon he’d bundled her inside it and claimed the seat next to her.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.

  Robert shot her a questioning glance.

  Antonia let out a heavy sigh, glared at Robert, and gave the man her address.

  The hackney was a small one. The narrow seat gave him little room, and as the horse began moving, Antonia shifted sideways, her shoulder pressing against his.

  “I need the book,” he said.

  “And I can’t give it to you.”

  He let out a sigh of frustration. “Are we at an impasse so quickly?”

  “What did you expect? Only one of us can have the thing we both want.”

  “I watched you all night. You passed it to someone immediately after the performance, didn’t you?”

  “That was you outside the window. I thought as much.”

  “If I thought you had it now, I’d take it from you.”

  “I know.”

  “At this point, I need you. You’re the only person I can find who knows where it is.”

  She held her breath for a moment. “What do you plan to do about that?” she whispered.

  “I’m hoping I can convince you to tell me who has it.” In the darkness, her copper eyes were barely discernible, but he could still make them out as she returned his gaze. He tilted his head down, breathing in her scent. “What would it take for you to reveal his name?” He grazed his lips against hers in the promise of a kiss. The temptation of one.

  She gasped, and her lips softened.

  Then she pulled away.

  “More than that, Lord Wentworth,” she said, her voice tart.

  He smiled as he leaned back. “You must call me Robert. Don’t forget.”

  “Don’t think you’ll seduce that book out from under me. It won’t work.”

  A slow, seductive smile spread across his face. “Won’t it?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  The carriage came to a st
op, and Antonia glanced out the window. “We’re here,” she said pertly.

  She moved toward the door, but couldn’t move far. Robert realized he was sitting on her cloak. He’d need to get up to release her.

  She glared at him. “After you.”

  He grinned, opened the door, exited the hackney, and then lifted her down to stand beside him.

  He glanced up at her rooming house as they approached the door. “Is this where most of the actresses from Haymarket Theatre live?” He glanced up and down the foggy residential street, but could see very little.

  She shook her head. “Most of the others either live with their families or share rooms. My sisters aren’t in a position to have me live with them, but I still need a place where they can come visit me, so I chose to live here. Mrs. Hill runs a respectable boardinghouse.”

  “You have a family then?”

  “Of course,” she said, furrowing her brows as she shot him a frown. “Or did you think they grew actresses in a garden?”

  “Touchy.”

  “Tired,” she said with a sigh. She placed her hand on the doorknob. “There’s nothing more we can do tonight. I’m too tired, and I can’t conjure the book out of thin air.” She sighed and rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. “You know where I live. Come speak to me tomorrow. We can go to the tea room down the street.”

  “How do I know you won’t disappear— pardon the expression— like a thief in the night?”

  “It crossed my mind, but I’m not willing to give up my role in Anne Blake, so at least until the show ends, it appears I won’t be able to avoid you.”

  She turned back toward the door again, but he wrapped her hand in his, stopping her. She paused to look up at him. In the darkness, she couldn’t see his face very well.

  “Stay safe. Promise me you won’t wander off alone again the way you did tonight.” He let go of her hand and brushed his finger across her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “There are dangers lurking in the dark.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The only secrets are the secrets that keep themselves.

  - George Bernard Shaw

  Antonia’s cheek tingled from Robert’s touch as he turned and trotted down the steps, leaving her standing on the front stoop.

  A sudden wave of loneliness nearly overwhelmed her as she slipped inside her boardinghouse and closed the door firmly behind her. She leaned her forehead against the solid wood for a moment, closing her eyes.

  She was tired, and only now did she allow herself to notice the deep bruise where that drunkard had grabbed her. There were, indeed, dangers in the dark.

  She moved to the small window next to the door, pressing her nose against the cool glass. She could barely make out Robert as he climbed into the hackney. A moment later, the carriage lurched away.

  Perhaps meeting Lord Wentworth— Robert— had been fate.

  She certainly hoped not. She straightened her spine and turned her back to the door.

  Of late, fate hadn’t been treating her kindly. If Robert was a part of some grand destiny, things couldn’t possibly end well.

  Antonia moved toward the stairs. The soothing tick-tock sounds from Mrs. Hill’s longcase clock seemed to fill the small foyer. Mrs. Hill had mentioned that it had been a favorite of her late husband’s, and although she claimed not to like it, she kept it wound and oiled.

  Could it really be three in the morning? Weariness wrapped itself around her like a heavy blanket.

  Next to the entrance, a collection of dry umbrellas sat neatly furled in the elephant-foot umbrella stand, and Antonia spotted a cane tucked in amongst them. Before tonight, she’d never realized a gentleman’s cane might conceal something else. Could this one hold some secret compartment or weapon, just like Robert’s? She picked it up and measured its weight in her hand. It seemed perfectly ordinary.

  She twirled the cane as she let her thoughts drift. Robert was far from ordinary, especially when compared with most gentry she’d met.

  That near-kiss had nearly undone her. Even now, the memory of it made her tremble. To almost kiss him twice in one night— after dreaming of it for so long— left her weak and confused.

  She’d first seen him five years ago when he’d come to Father’s rescue. At the time, she knew Father had been deeply worried about money he’d lost in a business venture. She’d overheard her parents discussing her dowry, and Father mentioned he was afraid his mistake would jeopardize her marriage prospects.

  But everything changed after Lord Wentworth’s visit. Antonia had been fifteen at the time. She’d been upstairs with her sisters, and when Mother came rushing in, shushing Evangeline, Antonia had been stunned to learn an earl was downstairs at that very moment, speaking with Father in his study. Despite Mother’s sharp eye, Antonia had managed to slip away and spy on him as he was leaving.

  She’d expected someone old and wizened, but the man she saw leaving Father’s study was young, and handsome as sin. His broad shoulders, dark, wavy hair, and piercing blue eyes were all delicious attributes, but his air of sadness made her arms ache to comfort him.

  She’d only glimpsed him and knew better than to let him discover her. The moment he was gone, she darted out of her hiding spot to press her nose against the window as he drove away in his sumptuous carriage.

  Father came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “There goes an impressive young man. He isn’t at all what I would have expected. He’s quite different from his—” He glanced down at Antonia’s upturned face. “That young man just managed to save me from my own folly. I’ll be forever in his debt.”

  “What did he do?”

  Father smiled. “He restored your dowry. Yours and your sisters’. But he went to great lengths to pretend the money wasn’t from him. He doesn’t want any thanks.”

  Now, Antonia tightened her grip on the cane. If that dowry were still hers— but no. It was gone now.

  With a sigh, she turned her attention back to the cane and grasped the pistol-grip handle to examine it. No catches. No release mechanisms. Just an ordinary cane. How perfectly boring.

  She recalled the way Robert’s icy blue eyes had swept over her when he’d first seen her at the ambassador’s ball. He’d been interested. Attracted.

  Just as she was attracted to him.

  Antonia frowned, irritated with the direction of her thoughts. She needed to banish them, and quickly, before they took root and kept her awake all night.

  Robert’s kindness would evaporate once he discovered how society viewed her.

  As nothing but a nameless bastard.

  Antonia shoved the cane back into the umbrella stand and turned toward the staircase. She passed the sliding door leading to the dining room. It was the public space all the residents were welcome to use. As she glanced toward it, she noticed that the dark oak pocket doors weren’t closed all the way. There was a gap of about an inch between them.

  Something moved behind that gap, and Antonia froze. She held her breath to listen. Was someone watching her? She stared at the opening. Had she imagined it?

  One of the double doors slid open with a rattle, causing Antonia to stumble back. She was startled, yes, but she wasn’t at all surprised when her landlady, Mrs. Hill, revealed herself.

  The older woman wore a dark-green robe over her white nightclothes, and her gray eyebrows were drawn together in a way that etched her frown even deeper her face. “What do you mean by bringing some man back here? You know the rules.”

  Antonia stiffened her back. “I didn’t bring some man back, as you so uncharitably put it. A gentleman escorted me to the door to ensure my safety.”

  Mrs. Hill snorted. One of her graying curls escaped its hairpin and flopped over her eye, like a loose spring from a broken clock. “Some rich bloke, I’ll wager. My sister might have vouched for you so I’d let you stay here, but don’t think that grants you any special treatment. I know what your kind are like, coming home at such late hours. Actre
sses.” She pursed her lips as though she were about to spit, but then thought better of it and resorted to glaring at Antonia. “I happen to know your play ended almost three hours ago. You were off trysting with that man. Don’t try to deny it. I know your type. You’re all born liars. That’s what makes you perfect for the stage.”

  Antonia took a breath and counted to five before speaking, but the technique did little to quell her anger. “I owe you no explanation, but I’ll give it this one time. My troupe had an engagement to perform a scene at Lady Wilmot’s residence this evening. I have no doubt that it will be mentioned in tomorrow’s newspapers. If you don’t believe me, you can read all about it in the morning. Even though I doubt I’ll receive an apology from you, I hope you’ll remember to hold your tongue in the future and not fling such baseless accusations.”

  Mrs. Hill pressed her lips into a thin line, causing her chin to pucker. “You’ve no right to speak to me that way.”

  “Nor do you. I pay for my room and board, and I follow your rules.” Antonia glared at the woman for a moment, wanting to force her to— to what? Respect her? That didn’t seem likely at this point. The woman’s goodwill had always been tenuous at best, and of late it seemed to border on the nonexistent. If Antonia wanted to continue living here, she needed to remain on good terms with Mrs. Hill. After all, the landlady held all the power.

  Antonia’s temper immediately cooled. Reality tended to have that affect. If she wanted to live someplace where her sisters could visit without risking their reputations, then she needed to win over this narrow-minded dragon. Otherwise, she could end up searching for new accommodations.

  She released a sigh of pent-up frustration. “I appreciate your kindness in renting a room to me. I truly do. But I wish you’d try to trust me. After all, your sister has known me for years and has vouched for me. I know right from wrong. She taught me well.”

  Mrs. Hill’s frown deepened. “Why she wasted her life taking care of the likes of you, I’ll never know. She should have stayed here, with her own family, and helped run this place.” She glared at Antonia as though she were personally to blame for Miss Galloway’s defection. “I’ll be checking that newspaper in the morning, and if I find out you lied, you’ll be out. Do you hear me? Out!” She spun on her heel and scuttled back into the dark dining room. She glared at Antonia as she slid the double doors closed with a bang, barely missing her own nose.