Too Hot for a Spy

by Pearl Wolf

  Sebastian frowned.

  “Fairchild may need a great deal more practice in the art of self-defense, I fear,” said Evelyn Hawes. “I shudder to think what will happen to her when she begins boxing lessons next week.”

  Sebastian barked a laugh. “Shall we invite Gentleman Jackson to train her, do you think, Evelyn?”

  “If Jackson were daft enough to agree, he’d be no gentleman, would he? Who would dare strike a lady? I’d like to recommend we allow her to forgo boxing and work an extra session with Sensei Nori since she does so well with him.”

  Sebastian’s eyes gleamed. “Afraid to climb into the ring with her?”

  “No, sir. Not afraid. Terrified, more like.”

  This brought an amiable laugh from the table.

  “You wrong her, my friends. She won’t cry off. She isn’t missish in the least,” objected Mrs. Hunnicut dryly.

  “Give us your report, Martha,” said Sebastian. “How does she in domesticity?”

  With a twinkle in her eye, she said, “This morning she scrubbed the kitchen floor from the stairwell to the kitchen door leading outside. That’s the full length of Wilson Academy. She was so intent on performing her duty, she missed her lunch.”

  Sebastian struggled to quell the urge to laugh. “Fairchild scrubbed the floor? Astonishing. And she registered no complaint?”

  “No. Well, only one small one that doesn’t signify.” The housekeeper blushed.

  “And what was that, if I may ask?”

  “It distressed her that she broke her last three nails.”

  Saturdays were set aside for the trainees to perform personal tasks. They were expected to wash their own clothing, clean their chamber, change their linens and perform all necessary personal grooming activities.

  The men set up their bathtub in the study hall on the first floor and took turns bathing. Riggs had thought to tack an amusing note on the door that read, KEEP OUT! THIS MEANS YOU, FAIRCHILD!

  But he needn’t have bothered with the sign, for Olivia was luxuriating in her own hot bath in front of the warming fireplace in Mrs. Hunnicut’s sitting room. Pure heaven. How had she taken such a luxury so for granted all these years, she wondered.

  Mrs. Hunnicut peered into the room. “The lads are waiting for me to trim their hair and pare their nails. I’ll do the same for you when I return.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hunnicut. My nails are sorely in need of paring now that they’ve all been shortened by the week’s er…activities. As to my hair, will you do it up for me?”

  “I’m not handy that way, but I’ll send Jenny to do it for you, dear. She’s much better at it than I am. I’ll attend to your nails when I return. Our Saturday luncheons are the only time instructors and trainees have an opportunity to become better acquainted. We find the relaxation of the rules invigorating and you will too, I imagine.”

  “I look forward to it, then.”

  Olivia rested her head on the edge of the tub and let her thoughts wander.

  What an extraordinary week this has been! It’s as if I’ve never known any life other than this one. An odd sensation. Do I miss my family? Yes and no. I find being here much to my liking, except for the dour spymaster who clearly wishes me as far away as Scotland. Or Hades, perhaps. Yet when he made love to me at the Hobbleton Ball in London, it was as if he were a different man. I liked his touch then. I’d like it now if he weren’t such a grumpy bear.

  When the bathwater cooled, she rose and dressed for teatime. Mrs. Hunnicut had suggested she wear her own clothing for the occasion, the gown she’d worn when she arrived at Wilson Academy. When Jenny appeared and fixed her hair for her, she couldn’t have been more pleased. The young scullery maid had talent far beyond scrubbing floors. While she waited for Mrs. Hunnicut to repair her ragged nails, Olivia occupied herself with the many ladies magazines the housekeeper was so fond of reading. It was a most relaxing morning.

  A luncheon buffet was served in the drawing room on the ground floor. The terrace doors had been thrown open, for it was a warm summer day.

  “Riggs! How well you look,” said Olivia. “And you, Perkins. You too, Carter. Why, we all look almost human. I feel as though we’re at a party in London.” She stopped to look around her. “But where are the twins?”

  Rufus Riggs laughed. “They’ll be here shortly, Fairchild. They’re planning a bit of mischief, I think.”

  The door opened to their instructors, all dressed in the pink of fashion. Olivia should not have been surprised to find the spymaster outshining his instructors in dress. He wore well-made buckskin trousers tucked into gleaming Hessians and a blue coat obviously made by the finest of London tailors. A handsome light blue vest was buttoned over an excellent white shirt, his neatly tied neckpiece completing the costume.

  He lost no time in mingling with the trainees. In a warm voice, he said, “Congratulations to you all. I received nothing but glowing reports on your progress at our staff meeting yesterday. You do us proud. I trust your second week will be just as rewarding.” He looked around him. “But where are the twins?”

  “Here, sir,” they answered in unison. They were dressed in matching apparel down to their boots.

  “Who, may I ask, is whom, gentlemen?”

  “Ah, that’s for you to guess, sir. We know who we are, but do you? We challenge all of you. Can anyone tell us apart?”

  Much delight was taken in trying to guess, a sport in which the trainees and their instructors ventured varied opinions. But Olivia did not participate. Instead, she hung back and observed the merriment, her hand stroking her chin.

  “What is your guess, my dear?” Mrs. Hunnicut asked her at last.

  She looked around the room. “I needn’t guess. I’ve always been able to tell these two rascals apart, no matter how hard they try to swindle me.”

  “How clever you are, Fairchild. Do tell. I can’t wait to hear,” challenged John Carter, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Olivia tilted her head at him and smiled. “I warn you, Carter. You’ll owe me an apology for your challenge.” She walked up to the twins, took each by a hand and searched their grinning faces. “You devils! Your dimple is much deeper when you smile, William. And you, Robert, curl your lip when you frown.”

  “Right you are. Good show, Fairchild!” said Robert. “Apologize, Carter. You owe it to her.”

  Carter turned his attention to the sideboard and filled his plate. He looked up at the others and said, “Apologize? For what? Fairchild merely ventured a wild guess and happened to hit the mark. I knew the difference between you two all the time.”

  Olivia’s self-appointed champion, a very red-faced Riggs, confronted him. “That’s unkind in you, Carter. Apologize to the lady, or I’ll land you a…”

  The room went silent until Hawes spoke up. “No challenges here, Riggs. Save it for the boxing ring.”

  “With pleasure, sir!” said Riggs, uncurling his balled fists.

  “As you wish, but I’m handy with the gloves,” added Carter in a bored tone.

  Hawes narrowed his eyes. “Which do you prefer, then? Boxing or wrestling?”

  “Boxing,” said Carter.

  “Wrestling,” said Riggs at the same time.

  “A coin toss, then. In class on Monday, gentlemen.”

  When the two combatants continued to glare at one another, Sebastian intervened. “That’s enough, you two. On Saturdays we behave like ladies and gentlemen. This is meant as an essential part of your training.”

  The instructors rose to the occasion by attaching themselves to one or the other of the trainees and engaging them in animated conversation.

  Mrs. Hunnicut was left to engage Carter in conversation, for no one else approached him to sooth his arrogant feathers. She drew him to a quiet corner of the drawing room. “Tell me, Carter. Where were you raised? Have you family? How do you take your tea?”

  Sebastian offered Olivia his arm. “I fancy a stroll in our garden, Fairchild. Care to join me?”

&
nbsp; Shocked at this pleasantry, she placed her hand on his arm. When he covered it with one of his hands, his touch sent a quiver of excitement through her. She drew in her breath and said, “Yes, sir. I would like that.” He led her outdoors and down the two steps into the garden where summer flower buds were already a riot of color lining the pathway.

  “Don’t look so down in the mouth, Fairchild. I don’t consider you at fault for the unpardonable behavior shown by Carter and Riggs.”

  “Kind of you to say so, sir. I was afraid you’d think otherwise.”

  “Shall we sit here?” He pointed to a bench and led her to it. “I owe you an apology.”

  She looked up at him in surprise. “An apology, sir? For what?”

  “For my unpardonable behavior on your first day.”

  “Thank you for that, sir. May I ask what made you change your mind?”

  “I received glowing reports about your progress from my staff. I only hope…”

  His final words made her wary. What was he getting at? “What is it you hope, sir?”

  “Let me be frank, Fairchild. I hope that my instructors aren’t easier with you than with the other trainees because you are a mere woman.”

  His remark took her warm feelings away and replaced them with indignation. When she could trust herself to speak, she asked, “Have you reason to think they have been too easy with me?”

  “You complained of breaking some of your fingernails, didn’t you?”

  She forced a laugh, but her eyes betrayed her anger. “To shreds. Not some. All ten of them. My remark was directed to Mrs. Hunnicut when she asked if I needed her to pare them.”

  Bloody hell! I’ve put my foot in my mouth. He threw his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry. No need to chastise me.”

  “It appears you have little faith in your instructors’ opinions. Or in me.”

  “I’ve made you angry, I see. I beg your pardon. Can you forgive me?”

  “Of course, sir.” She rose and curtseyed. “How kind of you to favor me with your attentions this afternoon. Will you excuse me?” She turned toward the terrace and hurried away.

  Sebastian watched her depart. Damn! I made a mess of it. Just when I was making progress with her, too. He shifted uncomfortably on the bench. He was hard and it showed. He didn’t know whether he wanted to kill her for the way she made him feel, or kiss her senseless for the very same reason.

  After chapel on Sunday morning, the trainees were free to rest and to study. It rained all day, destroying all thought of outdoor pursuits. Having had enough of the company of her fellow trainees, Olivia took advantage of Mrs. Hunnicut’s offer to make use of her sitting room. She brought her study manuals from her room down the hall, and settled into one of the comfortable chairs in front of the fireplace. She was seated opposite her hostess, who was busy with her needlepoint.

  “How peaceful it is here, ma’am. You are very kind to allow me to intrude on you in this way.”

  “Nonsense, Fairchild. I enjoy your company.” A knock on the door interrupted her. “There’s our tea, dear.” She began to rise.

  But Olivia objected. In a soft voice, she said, “I’ll get it, ma’am.” She waited at the door while the maid placed the tea tray on the table, bobbed a curtsey and left the room.

  Olivia shut the door and asked, “How do you take your tea, ma’am? Let me prepare it for you.”

  “Cream, no sugar, thank you.”

  Olivia served her the tea, offered her the pastry tray, and served herself before sitting back down. “Have you always been the housekeeper at Wilson Academy, ma’am?”

  “I was an earl’s housekeeper in Leeds before I married. In fact, I met the spymaster when he visited there before the war. When Wilson Academy was completed to his satisfaction, he wrote to me and offered me this position. I jumped at the chance, for the challenge of being an instructor as well as housekeeper intrigued me. My employer did not stand in my way. And here I am.

  “I feel as though the trainees have become my children and the instructors my family. We all live on the grounds, you see. We meet for cocktails in the drawing room before dinner, so we’ve grown to know one another quite well. I’m a widow and it’s less lonely for me here among such congenial company.”

  “Are none of the instructors married?”

  “Aaron Foster is a widower. He came out of retirement at Viscount Sidmouth’s urging. He’s well-known in his field. He has a son in the army, I believe. The others are unmarried, except for Tom Deff. He has a wife, three grown sons and two daughters in Ireland. They rely on his financial support. There’s not much honest work to be had there. He owns a horse breeding farm that his sons tend in his absence. He returns to see them all when we take our holiday in the fall, after your training is done.”

  “Do you enjoy your role here?”

  “Oh yes. It’s important work and I take it seriously. Most gratifying, my dear. And not in the least bit difficult. I’ve managed to earn enough to see me in comfort when I retire. And having no family I can call my own, I dearly love to mother all you young ones.”

  Olivia smiled. “You are like a mother to all of us, ma’am.”

  “Do you have a mother?”

  “Oh, yes. And a father. And four sisters and one brother. I miss them all.”

  “I expect you do.” She glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Oh dear. Just look at the hour. Time to make ready for dinner, my dear.”

  Chapter Six

  Wilson Academy—Monday, The Eighth of July

  A coin was tossed and the news that the grudge between Carter and Riggs was to be settled in the boxing ring swept through the academy like rain on a windswept day. Indeed, secrets of any kind weren’t easy to keep, for the staff was large and their ears larger.

  The boxing ring, raised less than a foot off the floor, occupied space on the second floor where all the classrooms were situated. The ring’s heavy ropes were tied securely on posts, to form a square. The floor of the ring was covered with canvas over a layer of straw meant to cushion falls.

  The match between Riggs and Carter caused great interest. For the Reed twins, having booked bets at local county fair competitions, this was an unexpected opportunity. Thus, betting fever gripped the entire household, infecting staff and servants alike. News spread that the twins were giving odds on the sly, charging every bettor a mere ha’pence for their services. A copper would gain you even money if Carter, the odds-on favorite for his extra weight, won. If Riggs chanced to win the match, the odds were ten to one. Perkins bet his copper on Riggs, more out of loyalty than of any hope Riggs would be able to defeat Carter, but Olivia chose not to bet at all, though her heart was with Riggs, her defender.

  The instructors, older, wiser and less loyal, put their money on Carter. The servants also bet heavily on Carter, while a few favored the underdog in the hope of making a killing. Besides, the odds were favorable.

  When the trainees and the teaching staff filed into the room at the appointed time, they discovered an unusual number of servants already there. Armed with buckets, mops and brooms, cleaning cloths and polishes, those present—footmen and under maids—appeared to take an unusual interest in exercising their diligence in cleaning tasks. Grooms, stablemen, gardeners and kitchen workers found reason to help their burdened brethren.

  “Quite a crowd today, Hugh,” Sebastian remarked, referring to the mob crammed into his supposedly secret observation walkway, their noses pressed to the small windows within.

  Denville grinned. “Windows need cleaning, sir. Haven’t been washed in years. Shouldn’t we let them have their bit of fun today?”

  “Far be it from me to spoil it,” Sebastian answered, his speech tinged with amusement. His eyes swept the room and lit on Olivia, her brows knit with worry as she watched the combatants climb into the ring.

  Rufus Riggs and John Carter faced one another stripped to the waist. Boxing master Evelyn Hawes entered and planted himself in the middle of the ring, at once beckoning t
hem to come forward.

  “Right, lads. Three rounds, three minutes each. Perkins, Denville and Foster have agreed to judge. Their decision is final and will settle your grievances once and for all. If either of you carry your grudge any further, you’ll be subject to severe penalties. And no hitting below the waist, mind. If you do, you forfeit at once.”

  Hawes nodded to Tom Deff, who held the stopwatch. “When I say ‘begin,’ go at it, lads. And when I say ‘time,’ stop. Is that clear?” Both men nodded in agreement.

  “Begin.”

  The two circled one another like tigers. When Carter jabbed, Riggs danced back. Carter stalked and connected with a right cross. Riggs responded with a jab of his own, followed by an uppercut. Their moves drew shouts from the spectators, but neither fighter paid attention to them. Carter was aggressive in his pursuit, and Riggs used clever foot-work to avoid the worst of Carter’s hits.

  Just as Hawes shouted “Time,” ending the first round, Carter connected with a right cross to Riggs’ eye. Shouts of “foul” were heard from some who thought Carter landed his vicious punch after Hawes ended the round. Hawes ignored the protests and waved the two men to diagonally opposite corners where waiting footmen wiped their sweating faces and offered them water.

  The second round passed with Carter besting Riggs in the sheer number of punches thrown. Alarmed that Riggs’ eye had begun to swell, Olivia hurried to the spymaster’s side and pleaded, “You must stop the match now, sir. Riggs can barely see.”

  He frowned at her yet his eyes were kind. “Sorry, Fairchild. Much as I’d like to bow to your wishes, to stop it now would be a mistake. There’s nothing to be gained from it except an indignant uproar from the servants and the staff. The men must be allowed to finish.”

  “I might have known you’d be enjoying this barbaric slaughter. Sir!”

  “You’ll have to accept my judgment in this, Fairchild. It’s too far gone.”