by Pearl Wolf
“Keep it up, Carter. Your new…humility is a good thing.” Her laugh caused a stitch in her side. Once back at the stables, when she finished brushing and watering her horse, Olivia made her way slowly back to her room, surprised to find Mrs. Hunnicut waiting for her.
“You’re limping, Fairchild. Are you hurt? Heavens, you’re covered with mud! And today of all days. Well, there’s no help for it. Come to my room and I’ll send for a tub. We must hurry.”
Puzzled, Olivia asked, “Why must we hurry, ma’am?”
“The spymaster has ordered you to join him for dinner. He has a visitor from London. You know how annoyed he gets when anyone is late.”
“Who is his guest, ma’am?”
“I don’t know, lass. I do know we have less than an hour to make you presentable. I’ve already had your dinner gown brushed. Jenny will come up to do your hair.”
Olivia was grateful for the bath, but she did not have the luxury of relaxing in the hot water for too long. Her thoughts were occupied with the mysterious dinner guest. Could it be her father? Had he come to plead with her to come home with him? How did he find out her secret location?
The second week of training was coming to an end. There were only ten weeks remaining and she was determined to complete the course. The questions plagued her so, she had little time to dwell on her aches and pains.
When she was fully dressed, Mrs. Hunnicut had to tie her sash tighter, for she had lost weight and her gown had grown too large. The housekeeper sat Olivia down at the dressing table where Jenny proceeded to curl her hair.
“Have a look, milady,” said Jenny when she had finished. “Is it to your liking?”
The image staring back at Olivia startled her. Is this me? How can I have changed in so short a time? I don’t recognize this lady in the ball gown, hair curled over ribbons in such a delightful manner. This can’t be the same woman who began just two weeks ago at Wilson Academy, can it?
She turned to the maid and said, “You’re a genius, Jenny. With your skill, I’d recommend you as abigail to any one of the finest ladies in England.”
The young scullery maid beamed with satisfaction. When Mrs. Hunnicut entered the room, she drew in her breath.
“Oh my dear. How lovely you look. I barely recognize the proper London lass I see before me. I’ve become far too accustomed to seeing you in your training clothes, Fairchild. Thank you, Jenny. You’ve done a fine job. That will be all.” When the scullery maid curtseyed and departed, Mrs. Hunnicut examined Olivia with a critical eye. “You look a bit pale, dear. Are you feeling quite the thing?”
“I’m well enough, ma’am. The thing is, I’m suffering the effects of a tumble from my horse this afternoon. I dearly hope I’ll be able to sit through dinner.”
Mrs. Hunnicut smiled. “I see it in your face. Of all places to feel sore. I’ll send word ahead to cushion your chair with a soft pillow.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Pinch your cheeks for color, Fairchild. Oh, dear. Look at the time. You mustn’t keep the spymaster and his guest waiting. Do hurry, won’t you?”
She took the stairs as quickly as she could, given her injury. When she reached the drawing room, the footman held the door for her. An unfamiliar gentleman with his back to her stood at the terrace door looking out. When he turned around to face her, he gasped in delight.
“Chris!” she shouted. She flew across the floor and flung her arms around him. Her words came out in a rush. “You can’t know how happy I am to see you. How is Helena? My other sisters? What news of Edward? My parents?”
“All well, Fairchild. They’re at Heatham except for Edward, who’s visiting friends.” He held her at arms-length. “Let me look at you, Livy. Only Helena knows I’m here and she’s bound to press me for a full report. You’ve lost weight. And you’re pale. Are you all right?”
“It’s nothing, Chris dearest. My horse bolted at the last fence and I flew over it right into the mud.” She leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Truth be known, my seat hurts a great deal more than my pride.”
“Evening, Fairchild. What would you like to drink?” asked Sebastian upon entering the drawing room.
“Thank you, sir. Nothing, sir.”
He eyed her, the corners of his lips trying to suppress a quiver. “How are you this evening, Fairchild. Everything all right?”
He knows! “Yes, sir. Thank you for your kind invitation this evening, sir. Mr. Darlington is an old family friend, sir.”
He poured Madeira for Chris and himself. “Nothing to do with me. Thank Darlington. He requested your presence. I’ll leave you to discuss family matters. You may join us for dinner.” He turned and left the room, his Madeira in hand.
She sighed. “Oh dear, Chris. He’s always so angry with me.”
“No, Livy. It’s just his way.”
“No it isn’t. He wishes me to hell.” She had a brief vision of that other Sebastian. The rude man who tried to ravish her at the Hobbleton Ball. The man she had half hoped would succeed.
Chris laughed. “Nothing of the kind, you ninny. I will admit that the spymaster may be irritated because he wasn’t given a choice in your selection for his program. I’ve known Sebastian since our school days at Oxford. He rather likes having his own way. Unfortunately, so does the home secretary. Rumor has it that there was an explosion that day, what with the spymaster threatening to resign and the home secretary threatening to accept his resignation.”
Another vision brought her back to the hallway on her last day of work in the home office. Of course! The man who knocked her down was none other than the spymaster storming out of the home secretary’s office!
Olivia changed the subject. “Why have you come, Chris? Am I the reason? Has my father ordered you to escort me home in disgrace?”
He barked a laugh. “Whatever put that notion in your head, you silly child? It’s no such thing, but you have to own you’ve caused quite a bit of a stir. Your father ran into Viscount Sidmouth at White’s when he was in London on business, according to Helena. My good fortune that she accompanied him, for it gave us some time together.”
“They met? I was afraid of that.”
“They are acquainted, you know.”
“So the viscount informed me when I pressed him for this opportunity. Well? What’s the verdict? Am I to stay or am I to go?”
“You lead a charmed life, Livy. Sidmouth told me he took a tough stance and wouldn’t back down. He convinced your father that, should you succeed, you would be a major asset to our program.”
Olivia laughed at that. “Are you telling me that Sidmouth won the day? I know my father, Chris. He doesn’t take kindly to opposition.” She paused. “However, if Sidmouth so much as hinted that I might fail, it would get father’s back up. In our family, we aren’t allowed to fail, you see.”
“So Helena tells me. She’s as stubborn as you are, Livy. She refuses to fail in her quest to marry me.” He fell silent for a moment, a frown on his face.
“What’s troubling you, dear friend?”
“It’s your father, Livy. He behaves as though Helena is sinking beneath her for wanting to be my wife.”
“I know he’s rejected your suit twice, but you must keep after him. He’ll give in eventually. In spite of his bluster, he loves us all too much to cause a permanent rift.”
“To tell the truth, Helena and I have come up with a new plan. I’m on my way to Heatham, to try to convince him to change his mind.”
Her eyes lit with laughter. “And you stopped here so you’d have news of me to report? He’ll be happy to hear it, but don’t you dare tell him I fell off a horse. I’d never hear the end of it. My father’s bark is much worse than his bite. He’ll rant and he’ll rave, but eventually, he’ll give in.”
“I’d almost given up hope, but my fortune has taken a turn for the better. If my new plea falls on deaf ears, your sister and I may well have to elope to Gretna Green.”
“No. Don’t do that. No
t the thing at all, Chris. With my father, all his children know that to get what we want, we need only to threaten him with defiance. We learned that lesson early on. Trust Helena to find a way to succeed should you fail this time. She loves you too much to give in to Father. And she’ll have help.”
“Help?”
She grinned. “From my mother. When we cannot convince the duke of the justice of our cause, we turn to the duchess. Should you fail, remind Helena to confide her plans for Gretna Green to Mother and leave her to do the rest.”
“Dinner is served,” interrupted the butler.
They entered the dining room in high spirits. The spymaster was already there. He was holding her chair out for her, the one with the added pillow. As she took her seat, he murmured into her ear, “Having trouble sitting, Fairchild?”
“What do you mean, sir?”
He took his own seat and said, “How was your ride this afternoon? Manage to take all the fences, did you?”
Oh how she wished she could wipe that detestable smirk off his face. “Why no, sir. How kind of you to inquire. Matter of fact, my horse bolted at the final fence and sent me flying. Fortunately, the soft mud cushioned my fall.”
Chris couldn’t fail to notice the hostility between them. He chuckled. “She’s usually a bruising rider, Brooks. I ought to know. She’s beaten me in races many times over.”
Sebastian’s smile was strained but he did not respond.
Even with the pillow, the seat was uncomfortable. Olivia squirmed as she nodded to the footman to refill her goblet with wine.
“Enjoying the wine, Fairchild?”
“My first opportunity to sample it, sir. You have an excellent cellar, sir.” She emptied her glass and waved it at the footman for another refill.
Chris tried to warn her to behave. He whispered, “Go easy, Livy. You’re not accustomed to wine.”
“Nonsense. I’m well able to judge for myself when enough is enough.” She drained her third goblet and signaled the footman for more. He did not so much as favor her with a glance, for he had received a discreet signal from the spymaster.
“You may retire to the drawing room, Fairchild,” Sebastian said at the end of dinner.
“Of course, sir. I’ll leave you gentlemen to your brandy.” She rose and added, “Do join me for tea afterwards.” Though she was unsteady on her feet, she managed to reach the door without stumbling. She tilted her head and smiled a flirtatious smile. “Don’t be long, you two.”
When the door shut behind her, Chris collapsed in a burst of laughter.
“I fail to see any humor in this, Darlington. She’s as drunk as a tavern wench,” Sebastian said, his lips pressed together as if he were a disapproving schoolmaster.
“Where’s your sense of humor, old chap?”
Sebastian frowned. “I seem to lose it when I am forced to deal with Fairchild.”
“Be warned, my friend. She feels the same way about you. You’ve got her back up. I’ve known her most of my life. She’ll cross you every chance she gets. She’s the oldest of a large family and is much indulged. If I were you, I’d ignore her attempts to get the better of you.”
Not until Hell freezes over. I’ll pluck this thorn from my side if it’s the last thing I do. He finished his brandy and rose from his seat. “Perhaps we should join Fairchild. I’d like to make sure she hasn’t fallen and hit her head on the marble floor.”
Chris laughed at his intended jest, at the same time aware of the resentment behind this remark. “Good idea. I’ll say my good-byes to her, for I leave for Heatham early in the morning.”
As it turned out, there was no need for them to rush. Olivia was sprawled on the sofa, snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Sebastian lost his reserve and collapsed in a chair, his laughter at the sight of his inebriated trainee infecting Darlington as well.
Chapter Eight
Wilson Academy—Monday, The Fifteenth of July
Sebastian made notes on a separate pad as he read Darlington’s proposal for safeguarding Prince Joachim and his entourage. The time was drawing near, for the Zarkovian prince was due shortly. So intent was he, he never heard someone enter his office until the clearing of a throat caught his attention.
He turned the report face down and rose to greet his visitor. “Sorry, Evelyn. I didn’t hear your knock. Have a seat.” His visit was unusual, to say the least, thought Sebastian. He leaned back in his chair opposite the instructor. “What’s on your mind, my friend?”
The man, who had been in his unit during the war and proved himself trustworthy on the battlefield, held a look of despair as he searched for the right words. “I’ve come on a most delicate matter, sir.”
“Go on.”
“It’s to do with Fairchild.”
Sebastian frowned. “I might have known. What has she done this time?”
“It isn’t so much her, sir. Well, not exactly. It’s to do with the other trainees. To a man they refuse to spar in the ring with her.”
“Then you do it. Why bother me with such a trivial matter?”
“Sorry, sir. I can’t. Don’t ask it of me, I beg you,” Hawes said in desperation.
Sebastian placed the quill he was fiddling with on top of his report. “Can’t? I beg your pardon.” he said, his eyes tightening. “I gather you mean that you won’t. Why?”
Hawes leaned forward and said, “I’ve never hit a woman in my life, spymaster, and I don’t intend to start now. If you want my resignation, so be it. You shall have it on your desk within the hour.”
Sebastian’s laughter was genuine. “You needn’t bite my head off, Evelyn. Do you mean to tell me that boxing a woman terrifies you?”
“To death, sir!”
“I see. If you are entertaining any hope that I will offer to take your place, put it out of your mind at once, for I won’t.”
Hawes choked back a chortle. “It never entered my mind, but you have to admit that it makes a comical picture. With BillyBob making book, it would set all the Wilson Academy servants to washing windows again.”
“I’m tempted. But no. A boxing match between her and me or any other fool willing to climb in the ring with her won’t do at all, though she deserves a good wallop or two in the right places.” Sebastian sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to leave that chore to her father. I hear he’s furious with her for insisting on being part of our program. All right, Evelyn. I know you well enough to know you didn’t come in here without a plan in mind. What do you suggest we do with the baggage?”
Relieved at having confessed a burden that had cost him a night’s sleep, he said, “What if we train Fairchild to defend herself in other ways in place of boxing?”
Sebastian templed his fingers. “Go on.”
“As we all discussed earlier, Sensei Nori might be persuaded to provide additional training for her in martial arts while the lads are in boxing class. Makes more sense, if you ask me.”
“Interesting idea. All right. Seek him out. I’m sure he’ll be agreeable. In the meantime, tell Fairchild she must confine herself to using the punching bag to increase her strength. And if she insists on practicing her boxing skills, order her to practice them on the dummy.” Sebastian picked up the report on his desk and turned it over, signaling the end of their conversation.
Hawes rose and studied his boots, but did not make a move.
“Is there something else on your mind, Evelyn?”
Hawes’ chin rose in defiance. “You’re the spymaster, sir. Not me. You tell Fairchild of the er—change in her training schedule.”
Sebastian’s eyes came alive with mischief. He understood that the boxing master quaked at the idea of facing Fairchild’s anticipated outburst of anger when she heard the news. “Courage, my friend. Make it your task.”
Hawes folded his arms and raised his chin in defiance. “Well, I won’t do it!”
The spymaster’s lips twitched. “Coward!”
Heatham—His Grace, Lord Anthony Fairchild, the sixth Duke of H
eatham, valued above all, not his title, not his estates, not his vast wealth, but his family. He loved his wife and was a devoted father to his children. Although he adopted the air of a curmudgeon, he wished only for their happiness. It was his good fortune to marry a woman he adored and respected. He wished the same for his children.
It saddened him that his daughter Olivia, the one child who clutched his heart, had spurned countless offers of marriage in order to pursue an unusual course.
As for his daughter Helena, next in age and a beauty in her own right, he knew her heart’s desire was fixed on the young man who grew up next door to them in London. He thought it an entirely unsuitable match, though he liked the lad well enough.
“Beg your pardon, Your Grace,” said the butler.
“What is it, Dunston?”
“Mr. Darlington begs an audience, Your Grace.”
“He’s here at Heatham?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Send him in at once, then.”
The butler bowed out and returned a moment later with the visitor.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace.” Chris bowed.
The duke rose from his desk and came round to greet him. “Young Darlington, is it? How is your mother? And your brother?” He led his visitor to a seat and took one opposite him.
“She’s in good health, Your Grace. My brother Aubrey will stand for Parliament the next session.”
“Happy to hear it. You are also doing well, I hear. I met with Viscount Sidmouth. He tells me you are a distinct asset to him in the home office. Your father would have been proud of you.”
“Kind of you to say so, Your Grace. In fact, I come here partly at the home secretary’s request.” Chris hesitated, then added, “By the way, I stopped on my way here to visit your daughter, Lady Olivia.”
The duke’s eyes bore into him. “How did you find her? Is she well?”
“Quite well, Your Grace. She’s thriving, considering the rigors of the program.”
The duke chuckled in spite of his opposition. “She’ll not fail, that one. Ought to have been a lad, what with her determination to blaze new paths. Don’t look so astonished, Darlington. I know my children well. She’s made no secret of the fact that she desires to be a spy. Sidmouth warned me that the physical rigors of the program may well be beyond her capacity to endure, but I know my daughter.”