My Earl the Spy

by Audrey Harrison

  “Obviously not in the respect that you have. Tell me more.”

  “There is a look of desperation in their eyes while they assess the poor souls they’d have rejected at the start of the season. One can almost see the thought processes as they try to decide whether to accept an undesirable proposal or risk another season. Their dilemma is almost palpable.”

  “Oh, Miss Holland! You are a delight! This is exactly why we get on so well; we have similar levels of cynicism.”

  Milly stopped smiling. “I would hope not, My Lord. And as I recall, we don’t get on well. I, for one, am thankful our views are completely at odds with each another.”

  Henry was stung by her cool tone; he had really been enjoying her company. “I see; well, in that case I shall stick to what I came here for in the first place.”

  “I would appreciate that.”

  Henry could not but admire her matter-of-fact tone. “I recall your drawing ability from the sketches you showed me during our time in Dorset, and I wondered if you would do a sketch for me?”

  Milly recalled with a blush the one time she had thought Henry was a decent man and not the unfeeling beast she now considered him. He had warned her to keep one of her drawings a secret because she had inadvertently drawn two of the men who were intent on using the beach for illegal activity. He had seemed so concerned for her safety, but now it seemed the reality was that he had not wished his planned ambush to suffer any set-back.

  “What would you wish me to do?”

  “Mr Shambles has gone to ground since that night,” Henry started. “We’ve done everything we can to try to find him but to no avail.”

  “Would it not be best to leave things as they are then?” Milly asked. “Surely if he is hiding, he won’t try to do anything again?”

  “If only that where the case,” Henry responded. “No, he will be up to his old tricks soon enough. I need to find him before he can arrange something on the scale of last time. If they’d have succeeded, it could have caused death on our streets, and we don’t want the nation in a state of panic with Napoleon already running riot all over Europe.”

  “What can I do?” Milly read the papers; the chance of an invasion was a very real fear for most of the population. Each success Napoleon achieved seemed to overshadow his defeats. Everyone was being urged to help in the fight against the tyrant, and Joshua Shambles was heavily involved.

  “Can you produce a drawing of Joshua? I know your ability; I’ve seen it and, if you can reproduce his likeness, I can have it printed and circulated far and wide. I believe it’s our best chance of tracking him down.”

  Milly thought for a moment. She did have a good memory and could produce a picture of Joshua; his scowling face was imprinted on her memory, but it would mean more contact with Henry, and that would certainly upset her equanimity.

  She sighed; there was no choice really; she owed it to her country if nothing else. “I will do as you ask. Could I see the printing process though? I admit to being curious as to how it would be done.”

  “I can’t see why not,” Henry said with a small smile. He had been convinced for a moment she was going to turn him down, so he was ready to agree to almost anything to gain her co-operation.

  “If you give me a few days, My Lord, I should have some sketches for you to choose from.”

  “Thank you, Miss Holland. I appreciate your help. I’ve no need to remind you that this needs to be carried out in the utmost secrecy?”

  “I will not utter a word of our conversation or my task,” Milly assured him. Even

  for one who never trusted anybody, Henry was completely sure of Milly’s word. She was probably the only person in the world he trusted; an honour she would never be made aware of.

  *

  It was four long days before Milly saw Henry once more. She could not have refused him anything when it was to do with the country’s security, but she was a bundle of nerves at the thought of seeing him again. She was disgusted with herself; he half irritated her, half made her want to swoon at his feet like a silly debutante. He was so handsome with the ruggedness of his square jaw and long nose, the high cheekbones and shrewd hazel eyes. His features were finished to perfection by the dazzling smile he could bestow when the mood took him. She could honestly say she had never seen features made to so perfectly complement each other. It was very distracting.

  She could also remember the feel of his lips when he had taken her kisses. Oh yes, she had given them willingly, but he had taken what he wanted and then pushed her away. In some respects it had been worse than the first time she had been pushed away, but she suspected her perspective might change when she had to face up to that rejection when she returned home. A long absence had probably lessened that pain.

  Henry was shown into the drawing room, noticing with pleasure Milly’s figure, visible in her light cotton day gown. The dress she wore was emerald green, not as dark as a woman of her age could wear but deeper than that of a girl in her first seasons. It suited her colouring, which was enhanced because of her blush. She was quite tall, which was attractive to a man who usually stood a head above most of his acquaintances. She was slim; there was no widening of her girth even though she had passed the first bloom of youth. She had a pretty face rather than a beautiful one, but it was her eyes that seemed to look all the way to his soul that perturbed him and haunted his dreams. He had never been drawn to anyone in his life before, and he was fighting the feelings with all his might; whether he was being successful or not depended on what excuse he used to try and justify his seeking her out.

  “I’ve made a few sketches,” Milly started. “I thought it would be best to give you a choice.”

  “I’m already convinced of your ability to capture a likeness; I’m sure they will all be well executed,” Henry replied, honestly.

  They were unexpectedly interrupted by Charles. Neither wanted to explain about the drawing, so Charles was served tea by Milly, and the conversation turned to inane topics.

  “I was saying to Milly that she should stay on after I’ve been married. There’s no point leaving town when Clara will be passing through sometime afterwards,” Charles said, his open manner disclosing issues that Milly would rather have kept private.

  “Ah, so the newlyweds return soon, do they?” Henry asked with interest.

  “Perhaps, although they haven’t sent firm plans yet. I believe their visit, when it is made, will only be of a short duration,” Milly said. “They are removing themselves to the Hampshire countryside. Lord Chertsey is still determined to keep Clara out of harm’s way.”

  There was meaning in the words that Henry understood perfectly. “Chertsey was clear that he would not be contacting me again; don’t worry your pretty little head, Miss Holland. I’m not able to embroil him in anything he doesn’t wish to get involved with.”

  Milly had bristled at the patronising words but remained calm. “I’m sure you would try, though, so I’m thankful they shan’t be staying for long.”

  “Will you be following them to Hampshire?”

  “No. I said I will visit but not yet. I am to return home in four days, the day of Charles’ wedding.”

  “Where do your family live?”

  “In Farnham,” Milly responded, not wishing this conversation to continue. For some reason the thought of not seeing Henry again perturbed her. If they continued talking about her departure she might betray some of her inner turmoil.

  Charles, for once, seemed to sense Milly’s discomfort and stood up, hoping to break up the grouping. “Milly, could you give me the reticule you’ve made for Miss Beresford, please? If Lord Grinstead will excuse me, I’d like to deliver it to her today.”

  “Of course, I will excuse you,” Henry said as Milly stood to leave the room. “If I don’t see you before, I wish you every happiness on your marriage.”

  “Thank you!” Charles said with a bow.

  The cousins left Henry alone, but not before Milly had looked astonished at
hearing Henry’s words. Her reaction left him chuckling as the door was closed behind the departing cousins.

  He reached for the drawing book that had been placed at Milly’s side ready to show him the pictures. He began to study each picture as he turned the pages. She was good. She had captured Joshua perfectly: the permanent scowl, the too small eyes. Every feature had been reproduced on the paper.

  There were five drawings, each of which was as good as the last. Henry reached blank pages and was going to put the book down when absentmindedly he flicked a few of the pages. Seeing a picture towards the end of the book, he went back to look at it.

  He was speechless. It was as if he was staring into a looking glass, the likeness of himself was so great. There was no colour on the picture, but it looked as lifelike as any portrait. Then Henry realised something, it was not him really. The expression was softer than any he ever wore; there was a smile on his lips, when he was fully aware he usually pinched his lips together. It was the same with the eyes, they seemed to be amused, and he was rarely amused. No. She had softened him. She obviously was not as good as he had thought.

  He lay the book down, a little disturbed at the picture he had seen but not about to acknowledge that he had seen it. Milly returned to the room and, although she frowned before picking up the drawing book, her expression betrayed nothing of her suspicion that he had seen the pictures.

  Henry chose the picture that was most suitable and promised to call on her two days hence. They were both to go to the local printers.

  When Henry had left the room, Milly let the book slip out of her hands with a groan. She would have died with shame if he had seen the portrait of himself. She had been so foolish, letting her heart rule her head when she had been drawing.

  She had to remind herself that he no longer looked at her in such a gentle way. Expressions like she had reproduced had only been visible when he was fooling them all into thinking he was a man intent only on having fun instead of being the spy he was, determined to use whomever crossed his path to achieve his aim.

  She would have been reassured to realise that later in the day Henry would dwell on that picture. He tried to push away the feeling that it would be appealing if, for once, someone could see him as a being with a heart and soul. Only he knew he was a lost cause and longing for something that could never be, did no one any good.

  Chapter 4

  Milly dressed with care. Of course she did not wish to impress the printer, however clever she thought the skill. It all had to do with her muddled feelings about Henry. She dressed in a cerulean blue day dress. Sometimes this particular colour did not wear well, turning into a greener hue, which did not really suit Milly’s complexion; but thankfully the material was of a good quality, and it set off the grey in her eyes to perfection. A delicate grey spencer finished off the outfit, again perfect for enhancing the colour of her eyes.

  Milly grimaced at herself in the looking glass, she should be over such vanity at her age but, as she had learned once before, it was all about appearance, and somehow she had the impression that Henry would be exactly the type of person who thought more of how something was presented than of true substance. That in itself should have her running from him, but she was uncharacteristically drawn to him. In some respects it made the past easier to bear. That her heart had not been completely shattered was reassuring. She was under no illusion that she would find someone to spend the rest of her life with, but the way her heart responded to Henry always gave her a nugget of hope that, at some point, she would meet a decent man.

  Henry smiled and bowed when Milly entered the hall at Half Moon Street. “You look very well this morning, Miss Holland. I hope the printing press does your pictures justice.”

  “As long as you are satisfied with the result, I’m sure it will please me. Thankfully, I’m not dependent on the quality as you are, My Lord.”

  They set off in Henry’s carriage. Normally Milly would have preferred to walk, although it was perfectly respectable travelling in the carriage, she was fully aware of being confined with a notorious rake. She cursed her heightened colour and tried to maintain her aloof demeanour.

  Henry watched Milly closely as they travelled together. She was such a contradictory mixture that she fascinated him. He could see the struggle she was undergoing, and he almost wanted to ease her torment. If he were so inclined he could drag her onto his knee, and he was fairly sure that she would kiss him as she had the last time. The thought of that kiss made him a little uncomfortable, and he moved on the seat, trying to counteract the physical reaction that thinking of her kisses did to him.

  They arrived at the printers in good time and stepped out of the carriage. Henry offered his arm and Milly placed her gloved hand on it. Neither openly reacted to the feeling of being in contact with each other, but both were moved by the sensation.

  The building was in a row of similar businesses. The noise of the machines could be heard as a rumble in the background. Milly smiled at Henry; she was excited about seeing her drawing turned into something else, and the noises seemed to draw her in, promising all manner of unknown experiences.

  They walked through the door and were immediately greeted by a portly gentleman, wearing a thick cloth apron that showed years of wear. He smiled at them, introduced himself and took them through a room at the back. The whole area seemed to be filled with large machines. Men were working at every station, the clatter of the mechanical movements filling the room to an ear-splitting level.

  They were led to a smaller room in which the number of machines were fewer, and not all were working, making the sound more bearable.

  “Here we are, M’Lud,” he said with pride. “This is our new lithograph machine. She’s a beauty and performs well.”

  “How does it work?” Milly asked, curious to see the machine in action.

  “It’s wonderfully simple really, Miss,” the printer answered. “We use a lot of different processes to get the block perfect to use and the image to stay on the block. To tell you the basics Miss, the picture M’Lud supplied is copied with a crayon onto this limestone block. The grease from the crayon sticks to the limestone and, as you’ll see, however many times we use it, the picture will still remain perfect. It’s really all about oil and water; no more complicated than that.”

  “Fascinating,” Milly said genuinely interested.

  “Let me show you what I mean, Miss.” The printer became all business as he showed Milly the limestone block with the picture of Joshua on it. She was impressed at the level of reproduction on the block, the printer making her smile when he admitted that the picture was traced from her original drawing. They both watched as water was applied to the block and then ink to an inking slab, rolling it out with a leather inking roller. He then rolled the roller on the limestone block and, when he was satisfied with the coverage, he placed a sheet of paper over the image, something that he explained spread the weight of the block evenly. The block was then forced through the printing press, and the printer carefully removed the paper, showing a perfect mirror image of Joshua’s face.

  “That’s unbelievable!” Milly said in true appreciation.

  “It’s very clever and makes a good print. We’ll have these ready for you within the hour, M’Lud,” the printer said, turning to Henry who had remained quiet throughout the lesson. He had been happy to enjoy watching Milly’s unaffected interest in the process.

  “I shall return shortly afterwards then,” Henry said before indicating to Milly that they should leave.

  “Thank you for showing me how it’s printed. I can see there is more expertise to the process than you have admitted, but you do make it seem so simple. It’s almost an hypnotic procedure to watch, which is very arrogant of me, as you clearly work extremely hard. I’m very grateful that you allowed us to interrupt your working day. Good morning to you,” Milly said, before leaving the room to once more pass through the noisy printing room.

  “Thank you, Miss,” the printe
r responded, a little overwhelmed at the sincere words offered. They left him standing with his chest a little more puffed out than usual.

  She blinked when she vacated the building, the noise and smells a little overwhelming.

  “So has your curiosity been satisfied, Miss Holland?” Henry asked with a smile.

  “Oh yes! It was fascinating; thank you for allowing me to accompany you.”

  “I think you made a lifelong friend in there,” Henry teased, nodding his head to the building, as he handed her into the carriage.

  Milly smiled. “I only told the truth.”

  “In such a way that it charmed him completely!” Henry said with a smile as he seated himself in the carriage. For once he was not being cynical; she had charmed the printer, and it was done with such sincerity he could not criticise her for it.

  Milly laughed quietly, pleased at the teasing.

  “Miss Holland, if you’ve no objection I’d like to take you to a little tea shop that I know of not too far away from here. If you are amenable, I can collect the finished pictures before returning you to Half Moon Street.”

  Milly’s first reaction was to refuse, but then she realised that this was going to be the last time they met before she returned home. The thought of home filled her with dread, but pushing aside her melancholy she smiled and agreed. One treat before she left London was not going to hurt her grieving heart any further she reasoned as the carriage made its way to the tea shop.

  They were seated in the window, able to watch the busy street. Henry ordered far too many cakes, and Milly laughed when he insisted on her trying every one.

  “Has my cousin told you of my sweet tooth?” Milly asked with a smile at the wide array of cakes on the table.

  “No, she kept your secret. I’m glad I ordered so many, you must try them all!”

  “My dancing days are over, My Lord; you shall be sending me home with a need to walk the width and breadth of the town to wear off all these cakes!”

  Henry smiled, enjoying the relaxed look and laughing grey eyes. “If I ever hear of a lady carving a path from one end of Farnham to the other, I shall know immediately who they are talking about.”