Once Upon a Spy: A Secrets and Seduction Book

by Sheridan Jeane

  “Tomorrow!” Stephanie squeaked in surprise. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

  “We only just returned from arranging things. You really don’t need to be in court.”

  “Is that why Mr. Montlake is here?” Evalina asked, looking somewhat mollified. Then she furrowed her brow. “Why do you want to go before another judge? It’s not as if this one’s likely to make a different decision than the last one did.”

  “Because Stephanie was right. I was able to locate the church register.”

  Evalina’s eyes widened. “That’s wonderful news! Now we have the proof we need!”

  “And Mr. Montlake will help,” Stephanie added. “Everything could change for us tomorrow. Our lives could return to normal.”

  Antonia opened her mouth, but then closed it again. She wouldn’t tell them about the czar— their newly discovered half-uncle— at least not today. Nobody had specifically told her to keep it a secret, but it was obvious that if the information could incite a war, it probably shouldn’t be entrusted to her sisters. At least, not until they were a few years older.

  “Miss Winter?” Mr. Montlake said, opening the door of the study. “I thought I heard your voice. It’s wonderful to see you.”

  “Thank you for helping us,” Antonia replied.

  “I’m happy to be of service. I’m well prepared. I already know your situation, and with the church register as evidence, I’m certain we can get a reasonable judge to rule in your favor.”

  “If you’ll excuse us,” Catherine said, “we have to finish rehearsing if we want to be ready in time for tonight’s performance.” The four of them continued down the hallway and passed Frederick, who was heading toward them with the church register clutched firmly under his arm.

  They stepped into the study, and Robert closed the door.

  “Can you read Russian?” Robert asked Mr. Montlake.

  Montlake raised his eyebrows. “Never studied it.”

  “Then allow me to translate,” Frederick said, crossing the room to take a seat at the desk. He flipped to the pertinent page of the leather-bound book, and then began copying the words onto a fresh sheet of paper.

  Mr. Montlake waited until Frederick was finished to glance at what he’d written. “What do these X’s represent?” He pointed to a spot the page.

  “Those are places where the ink is blurred and unreadable.”

  “Very frustrating.” He frowned and then lifted his gaze to Antonia. “I’m concerned that this won’t be enough to convince a judge that the wedding took place before you and your sisters were born.” Mr. Montlake took off his eyeglasses and rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

  “What?” Robert looked thunderstruck.

  Antonia touched his arm in a soothing gesture. “I was afraid of that.” She hesitated for a moment. “There’s another item that contains the date of their wedding, but I’m afraid it might be difficult to obtain.”

  “There is?” Montlake asked, sounding hopeful. “What would that be?”

  “It’s a painting my grandfather gave my parents the day they were married. On the back, he wrote a dedication and mentioned it was a wedding gift. It gives the date of their wedding. Is that enough?”

  Montlake’s eyes lit up. “That’s excellent. On its own, it might not be enough proof. But in combination with this book?” He gave a sharp nod of satisfaction. “It should easily persuade a reasonable judge. But you foresee a problem in obtaining it? Why is that?”

  “It’s in my uncle’s house. He has it hanging on the wall in his drawing room. Do you think we should sneak into his house tonight, steal it, and show it to the judge?”

  Montlake frowned at her. “Don’t be foolish. The last thing I need is for you to get caught breaking into Walter Winter’s house. Since we have to appear in court tomorrow, that would ruin everything. No, no. I have a much simpler solution. All we need is for the judge to issue an administrative summons instructing Walter Winter to bring the painting to court tomorrow. We can make him think it has nothing to do with you. Perhaps we can write the summons to suggest that his ownership of the painting is in question.”

  “You’re a clever man, Mr. Montlake,” Antonia said.

  “I hope I’m clever enough. It would seem your uncle is devious. I’ll need to work hard to stay one step ahead of him.”

  “I think I can help with that,” Frederick said. He glanced at Antonia. “I have a plan for getting him to remove those gloves.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  The human heart has hidden treasures,

  In secret kept, in silence sealed;

  The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,

  Whose charms were broken if revealed.

  - Charlotte Bronte

  Dinner was a pleasant diversion, as was the girls’ pantomime. Frederick and Mr. Montlake excused themselves from attending the entertainment so they could prepare for court.

  Once the impromptu performance reached its conclusion, Robert excused himself. He and Antonia found the two men sitting at his desk in his study, poring over the church register.

  “How are the burns?” Robert asked as he strolled across the study to stand across from them.

  “They hurt,” Frederick snapped, casting him an irritated glance. Then he glanced down at the pen he awkwardly clutched in his left hand. “They’re a bit better, I suppose. I can manage to hold this in my off-hand.” He tossed it on the table and flexed his fingers. “How was the pantomime?”

  “Excellent. Diverting. The girls are nearly as talented as their sister.” Robert gave his brother an assessing gaze. “Should I prepare the poultice again?”

  Frederick shook his head. “All the herbs are gone. Lady Harrington must have finally taken me at my word and decided to stay away.” He frowned.

  Antonia gave him a sharp glance. “That’s odd. She arrived just as we were leaving for Lord Tidmore’s house. She had the poultice supplies with her.”

  “Perhaps she grew tired of waiting for you,” Robert said. “I believe that was the gist of her complaint the night of the ball as well.”

  Frederick reddened and opened his mouth to retort, but Mr. Montlake pushed back his chair rather loudly and rose to his feet. Robert had the sense that the interruption was intentional. “I think the best way I can finish my preparations for tomorrow is to sleep for a few hours,” Montlake said.

  “Certainly,” Frederick said, rising to his feet as well. “I’ll escort you to your room. I could do with some rest as well.”

  The two of them were gone before Robert had a chance to bid them good night.

  As soon as they were alone, Antonia strode over to the desk and picked up the church register. Her fingers tightened around it. When he caught her eye, she gave him a nervous smile. “I’m worried about the book.”

  “What do you mean? Are you worried about those X’s?”

  “No. Well, yes, I’m worried about that too. But I meant I’m worried about where we should put the book while we sleep tonight. What if the ambassador has his men break into the house? What if they steal it?”

  “We could hide it,” he suggested.

  “That’s what I thought too.” She clutched it tightly against her chest with both hands. “Where?”

  He glanced around the room. “What about right here on the bookshelf?”

  “That’s no good. That’s where my uncle hid it, and you know how that ended up.”

  Robert nodded, but he continued to stare at the bookcase. A moment later, he stepped closer to examine it. “If I remember correctly…”

  “What?”

  Robert pushed aside some books he’d placed on the shelf only a couple of months ago as he searched for— yes— there it was. A small wooden latch. He pushed on it, but it didn’t move.

  He leaned over to look at it more carefully. Yes, this was the spot. He stepped closer to the shelf and pushed harder this time, using his body weight to provide leverage. Finally, the latch moved with a grin
ding sound.

  “What’s that?” Antonia asked.

  “It’s where we’ll keep the book.” The bookcase sat slightly askew. Robert grabbed its frame and pulled. “Pick up that lamp.”

  He peered into the inky opening. As Antonia moved closer, the light she held drove away the blackness.

  “What’s this?”

  “A secret passageway. I’ve scarcely thought about it in years. It leads up to one of the bedrooms.” He glanced down at her. “Yours.”

  Her eyebrows jumped. “Mine? I’d have thought a secret staircase would have led to your room.”

  He grinned at that. “Another family secret. I’ll tell you about this one. My great-grandfather was an insomniac. He often chose to sleep alone so he wouldn’t disturb my great-grandmother. According to family lore, when he built this house, he had a staircase hidden inside the wall so he could come down to his study at night without waking anyone.”

  “A secret passageway seems excessive.”

  Robert shrugged. “He was a bit of a romantic as well, from what I’ve heard, or perhaps they said he was an eccentric.”

  “Are you suggesting all romantics are eccentrics?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.

  He smiled. “Perhaps not all. Either way, he’d always wanted a secret passageway in his house, so he built one.”

  “The latch seemed stiff when you tried to open the door,” she commented.

  “We haven’t used this space in years. Emily was fascinated by it. She accidentally locked herself inside it one day when she was quite small. After my father died, Mother went on a frenzy of closing down rooms and blocking off areas, and she blocked off the door in your room by putting your bed in front it. I think it was her way of taking control of her life. She’d locked the study as well, and I only recently started using it again.”

  The area behind the bookcase was dark and narrow. It had been built between the walls next to the fireplace, so the space was warm.

  “This should do nicely,” she said, placing the book on a narrow shelf.

  Robert looked past her and noticed some items stashed in the hidden space. He took a few steps closer and spotted a soft-sided traveling bag.

  “What is it?” Antonia asked.

  “I’m not sure. It looks like luggage. Perhaps it belonged to my father. No one’s been in here since he died.”

  Excitement mounted as he stared down at it. What if the contents provided an explanation for his father’s actions that last year of his life? That thought surprised him. Had he really been holding on to a childish fantasy that his father had been innocent? They’d had a letter in his own hand admitting what he’d done.

  Suddenly, he wished he hadn’t opened that door. Whatever was in this bag couldn’t be good.

  Despite his growing sense of dread, Robert dropped to one knee and tried to open the case. The metal clasp didn’t want to move after fifteen years of disuse. Robert dug his fingers under the edge of the latch and forced it open.

  He leaned forward to look inside, and in the light of Antonia’s lamp he could see the mounds of crisp bank notes piled inside. He dropped his other knee to the ground, shocked, and shoved his hand deeper in the bag. It was completely filled with banknotes.

  Not proof of his father’s innocence. Proof of his guilt.

  Antonia let out a soft gasp. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “If you think it’s a bag full of money, then yes.” Anger and disdain clipped his voice, but he couldn’t soften his tone.

  He tried to latch the bag shut, but he must have broken the clasp. Instead, he shoved it to one side as he continued his search. It toppled over, spilling many of the bills onto the floor of the small chamber.

  He ignored them. Behind it he found a similar bag, but when he forced its latch he found men’s personal items. His father’s.

  Robert sat fully on the floor as the meaning of this sank in.

  It would appear that his father had packed both bags with the intention of slinking away. What had made him abandon the plan and commit suicide instead?

  Robert shook his head in shock and bemusement. That long-held childish dream of proving his father innocent had been dashed, quite thoroughly.

  “What does this all mean?” Antonia stepped closer, leaning down to look at the spilled bills. “Did someone hide it here?”

  “I assume my father did— shortly before he died.” This explained why they were never able to find any of the money. It was here all along.

  She reached into the pile of bank notes and fumbled around for something. She plucked out something small and heavy. “What’s this?” she asked, turning as she held out a square box.

  Robert’s chest tightened. As soon as he saw it, he knew what it had to contain, and he didn’t want to open it. He knew it had to be his own version of Pandora’s Box, full of all the evils in the world. Or in this case, all the evils that could destroy his family.

  “Put it back,” he said, snatching the box from her hands. “It was my father’s.”

  “Is it important?”

  Robert swallowed. “I— I think it contains the evidence that proves my father—” He couldn’t bring himself to continue.

  “What?” In the flickering lamplight, he could see her concern.

  He shook his head sharply and shoved the box back in with the pile of money, feeling like a coward. “I can’t deal with this right now. It’s waited here for fifteen years. Another two days won’t make any difference.” Was that the truth, or was he instead afraid to reveal his secrets the way Antonia had?

  “Are you sure?”

  He tensed, hating himself. “I’m certain.”

  He was relieved she didn’t continue to push the issue. He needed time to think. He should tell Frederick. He’d know what to do.

  He pushed himself back, suddenly wanting to distance himself from the evidence of his father’s shame. From the evidence of his treason.

  He needed to leave this room. He reached out and found a long wooden post and used it to pull himself up.

  The post turned out to be a lever that moved under his weight. He stumbled, barely managing to right himself so he didn’t fall over. The paneled wall of the study swung shut as his pressure on the lever pulled it closed.

  “Blast!”

  “What happened?” Antonia asked. “Why did the door shut?”

  “It was my fault. I accidentally pulled on the lever that closed it.”

  “Can you open it?”

  “Move the lamp closer,” he said, shuffling over to the door. “I need to find the mechanism.”

  “Don’t you simply push the lever in the opposite direction?”

  “There’s a catch I need to release first. Once I find it, all I need to do is push on the door.”

  Antonia joined him, holding up the lamp so he could see, and he quickly located the latch. It was small, and over the years it had become stiff with disuse. That was probably why he’d had so much trouble opening it from the other side. Try as he might, he couldn’t get it to release. Perhaps if the latch had been bigger he would have had better luck, but as it was he could only get his thumb on it.

  “The mechanism on the other side of the door is much larger, so it was easier to open,” he muttered. “I can’t get this to budge.”

  “You said this leads upstairs to my bedroom. Perhaps we can use the door up there.”

  “The door blocked by your bed?” Robert let out a heavy sigh as he stepped back. “Let’s try. I’ll lead the way.”

  She nodded and passed him the lamp.

  He approached the staircase and held the lamp high. Antonia followed him up the tall, narrow steps. There was a small landing at the top. Robert hung the lamp on a small peg and began tracing his hands around the edges of the door. He quickly located the latch, and it immediately released. He pushed his shoulder into the door, shoving both it and the bed until there was enough room to get through the opening.

  He snatched up the lamp and ushered Antoni
a into her bedroom. As she moved past him in the narrow space, her entire body brushed against his.

  The feel of her jolted through him. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and press her against him. To forget what they’d just discovered. To wipe away the sense of inadequacy— the shame.

  He followed her through the opening. They stood behind the headboard, and he set the lamp on the table against the wall next to where her bed should be.

  He should leave.

  Logic told him to stay away from her, but his good sense was failing him miserably.

  He reached for her hand. He couldn’t resist touching her.

  At the brush of his fingertips, Antonia turned to face him. She twined her fingers in his and moved closer to him as she stared up into his eyes.

  “Oh, my darling Robert.” And then she slipped her hand behind his neck, pulled him down, and kissed him.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.

  - John Keats

  Antonia knew this was insanity, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Ever since she’d kissed Robert in the hallway, she hadn’t been able to push it from her mind. Every time she glanced at him, she found herself staring at his mouth. At the gentle curve of his lips.

  Even if the judge ruled in her favor tomorrow, she and Robert could never be together. Not the way she wanted them to be. Their worlds were too far apart.

  She was an actress. He was an earl.

  If Lord Tidmore did rule in her favor, this might be her last night sleeping under his roof.

  What about today, though? Should she spend her life waiting for everything to be perfect? That would never happen. Life was messy and imperfect. There would always be an excuse not to take a chance. She couldn’t let moments like this one pass her by.

  His look of deeply felt pain finally pushed her over the edge. She didn’t know his secrets, but she could tell that this one cut him deeply. The anguish in his beautiful eyes pierced her like a knife.

  So she kissed him.