Too Hot for a Spy

by Pearl Wolf

  “And maybe then wot?”

  Jenny winked at the lad she’d set her cap for. “That’s fer me to say and you to find out.”

  Olivia hid in the stable until she could no longer hear Jenny and Ted’s footsteps. She prepared her horse with a man’s saddle, mounted and rode off in the direction the stable boy had described.

  Brighton—Lady Helena was resting in an attempt to still her rapid heartbeat. She could not believe her good fortune. Her darling Chris had bearded her father in his den and had won him over. She was betrothed to the man she loved. And tonight at Heatham, they would celebrate and accept the good wishes of all of Brighton society.

  “Is that you, Amy?” she called out to her abigail when the door opened to her darkened chamber. The door closed, but there was no answer.

  “Who’s there? Speak up or I’ll ring for help,” she said, fear in her voice.

  “Don’t ring, you goose. It’s Livy.” She pounced on the bed and hugged her sister hard.

  “Livy? You frightened me half to death! How did you get here?”

  Olivia reached to turn up the lamp. She gazed at her sister. “I wouldn’t be much of a sister if I missed your betrothal ball, now would I? I’d rather be drawn and quartered.”

  Helena sat up. “Have you permission? Chris said…”

  “No one knows I’m here, but what does that matter?”

  “You’ll be dismissed if you’re discovered.”

  Olivia shrugged. “Perhaps. But I do have a problem.”

  “What is it, dearest?”

  “I’ve nothing to wear. All my gowns are in London.”

  “You haven’t changed in the least, you vain, selfish girl.” Helena’s laugh infected her sister, at which point the door opened once again.

  “What’s all that noise?” Georgiana stopped in her tracks and screamed, “Livy!”

  “Georgie, dearest,” Olivia squealed. She hugged her close, tears of joy streaming down her face.

  “I heard some noise…is that you, Livy?” Mary rushed to her side and hugged her. “Why you’re nothing but skin and bones! Don’t those beasts feed you?”

  “Oh Mary. How I’ve missed you. I dream about hearing you play the pianoforte every night.”

  Mary’s face lit up. “Do you really? I’ve missed you, too, big sister.”

  “Ouch!” Olivia protested when Jane entered the room. Her chubby eight-year-old sister pounced on her, shrieking, “Livy. Livy. Livy.”

  “What’s all this commotion? The servants said…Livy!” her mother shrieked. And promptly began to weep.

  Olivia’s tears mingled with her mother’s. Her heart felt full to bursting as her sisters added their shouts and their laughter to the symphony of a happy family reunion.

  Her mother dried her tears at last and said, “Stop all this nonsense my dear gaggle of geese. The Darlingtons are joining us for a family dinner before the ball. We must all get ready. What shall you wear, Livy?”

  “We’re the same size, Mother,” said Helena. “I’ll find an appropriate gown for her and Amy can shorten it.” She rang for her abigail.

  “I must go and tell your father, Livy. Come to our chambers just as soon as you’re dressed. I’ll lend you my pearls. Oh, and one of you tell your brother Edward, please.” After one last kiss planted on her daughter’s cheek, she flew out of the room.

  “How is Edward?” Olivia asked as Helena’s abigail helped her choose a gown.

  “Still racing curricles to an inch. He’s all puffed up since he’s won a few races. He’s so fearless, we all worry for his neck. He’s grown handsome, too, though he doesn’t seem to have discovered the charm we women offer. In a few years he’ll be the despair of scheming mothers all over England. They’ll be dying to land the next Duke of Heatham for one of their eligible daughters.”

  Olivia laughed at that. She proceeded to search through her sister’s wardrobe until she found something suitable. “I’ll wear this one. Do you mind, Helena?” She had chosen a pale blue silk under gown, with matching chiffon over it.

  “If you want the gown I planned to wear tonight, I would gladly give it up to you. I’m that happy you’re here, dearest.”

  The bustle of activity caused a spate of girlish giggles while Olivia was helped into her gown. She stood very still while Amy shortened the hem and another young maid stood on a chair to fix her hair. Afterwards, she ran down the wide hall to her parents’ suite, but before she could reach it, another pair of hands pulled her into the shadows.

  “Did you think to avoid my clutches, my pretty?” her brother asked, twirling an imaginary mustache. He wrapped his arms around her.

  “Let go of me, you incorrigible brat. You’ll crush my gown. Go chase the girls. I hear they’re all over you like flies on honey.”

  “I’d rather ravish my beautiful sister instead.” He nuzzled her neck and she giggled.

  “I’ve missed you so, Edward. But you have to let me go. Father’s waiting.”

  “In that case, I have no choice.” He let her go, but as she passed him, he swatted her in the rear.

  “Beast!” she muttered, but she was all smiles when she entered her parents’ drawing room.

  The duke had steel in his voice when he spoke, yet his eyes were welcoming. “I take it you have given up and resigned your post.”

  Olivia paid no heed to his harsh words. “Father!” She ran to him and threw her arms around his neck.

  “It would be the worse for you if you disobeyed orders to be here,” he grumbled, trying hard to hide his pleasure.

  “Whatever can you be thinking, Father? I am not allowed to fail. All your children well know that we cannot disgrace you in such a way. Have I got that right?” She batted her lashes at him and he laughed in spite of himself.

  The duke rose and offered one arm to his wife and the other to Olivia. “Come along, you two. It’s time to greet Helena’s prospective in-laws.”

  Dinner was a small, but lively affair that included only the immediate family and their guests, Darlington’s mother, the dowager marchioness, as well as the Marquis and Marchioness of Thorpe, Darlington’s brother Aubrey and his wife Cecelia. Since the family lived next door to one another in London, there were no awkward moments.

  After dinner, Olivia entered the glittering ballroom on her brother’s arm. She couldn’t recall there having been such an event at Heatham. Their country estate was designed for intimate family pleasures in warm weather, when the London heat was oppressive. The duke and duchess much preferred to entertain in London during the season.

  “See what you’re missing, Livy?”

  “Indeed I do, Edward. But there will be other opportunities. After I complete my training, of course.”

  “You’re determined to go back, then. That won’t please our dear father.”

  “I haven’t come this far merely to give up.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sir Percival Smythe-Jones bearing down on them. “Oh, oh. Trouble. Dance with me again, Edward. That awful Smythe-Jones is here. I couldn’t bear another of his unwanted marriage proposals.”

  “With pleasure, beautiful sister of mine.” He swept her into his arms as the band struck up a waltz and they whirled off. Olivia couldn’t help but notice the attention focused on her brother.

  “Edward, there are daggers being thrown at me from the eyes of some very beautiful young ladies. Are those your flirts?”

  Her brother laughed. “Can I help it if I’m irresistible? I’ll have you know that every woman here is my flirt, dear sister. The young ones for themselves, the old ones for their eligible daughters.”

  “Is it because you’re so rich or because you’re so fabulously good looking, my love?”

  “More like it’s because I’m the heir to a wealthy duchy. Will you rescue me if I lose my head to some beautiful damsel with a witch of a mother?”

  “Of course, I will. I’m learning all the martial arts, so I’ll be well able to rescue you from a designing damsel’s clutches.”
>
  “Martial arts? You? I don’t believe it.”

  “You’d be surprised, Edward. After six weeks of training, I’m as strong as an ox.”

  When the waltz ended, a group of eager young men surrounded Olivia. She looked helplessly at her brother, but he winked before leaving her to her fate and disappearing into the crowd. For the next hour, she danced with six handsome young bucks, the waiting line at the end of each set never appearing to diminish.

  “Thank you, my lord,” she said to her seventh partner when the music ended. To the next young buck in line, she added, “Forgive me, but my poor feet need a rest.”

  A hard rap on her shoulder made her turn in surprise.

  “No strength for another dance? Do you dare to disappoint me, my lady? I so looked forward to a turn with the most sought-after woman here tonight.” Sebastian’s lips were tight. He clutched her waist, gripped her hand and glared at her. When the band struck up the next waltz, he guided her none too gently across the floor.

  “You’re hurting me,” she gasped.

  “Serves you bloody well right!” He squeezed her hand harder.

  “Stop it this minute, sir! If you’re bent on giving me a scold, do so in private.”

  “Where may I find a paddle to punish you with?” he answered loud enough to turn heads. His face was twisted into a wrathful glare. He pulled her along, as if she were a limp rag doll, in full view of astonished guests.

  He nodded left and right and said in a voice raised by several decibels, “Excuse me, but I must escort Lady Olivia outside for a bit of fresh air.” His lips held an unpleasant semblance of a smile.

  Sebastian held her arm in a painful vise-like grip and propelled her toward the open terrace doors.

  Olivia’s heart pounded in tune to the beat of the music. I’m in for it now, but what’s he doing here?

  As if he could read her thoughts, he said, “Did you think I would not attend tonight? Darlington is one of my closest friends.” His nostrils flared as he spoke. “What am I going to do with you, Fairchild?”

  She stuck her chin out. “I haven’t the faintest notion. What are your thoughts on the matter, sir?”

  “Why, you unscrupulous vixen!” His temper heated, he ticked off each accusation by counting on his fingers. “You disobey me. You redesign my program to suit your whim. You’re disrespectful. You deliberately challenge every one of my orders. You flirt so outrageously, all the trainees have fallen in love with you!”

  She ignored his wounding words, put her hands on her hips and fought back. “As well as some of the instructors, sir. Not to mention the footmen and the stable boys.”

  “You deliberately challenge every one of my orders, you hoyden. You…”

  She put her hand up to stop him. “Excuse me, sir. You already said that one, sir.”

  Sebastian’s eyes widened. “I said…what one?”

  “The one about challenging your orders, sir? You said that twice. Sir. I don’t really mean to vex you, sir.” Rather than look him straight in the eye, she examined what was left of her fingernails.

  He glared at her through narrowed eyes. “Then what, pray tell, is it you do that irritates me enough to want to strangle you?”

  “Well,” she began, in a thoughtful voice. “I don’t deliberately set out to irritate you, sir. I merely try to simplify your orders, sir. You do have a tendency to be terribly long-winded, you know. Sir.”

  “I’m terribly long-winded?” He drew in an audible breath and snorted it out through his nose. “Never in all my life have I encountered such a willful, obstinate, destructive, irritating piece of work…”

  His harsh tone, not to mention his loud voice, was again attracting a curious audience. When she observed this phenomenon, Olivia took his arm. “Allow me to show off our lovely rose garden, sir. The flowers are in full bloom this time of year.” She dragged him away from the terrace.

  When they were out of earshot, he groused, “Damn you, Fairchild! I can’t bear it any longer. Have the goodness to crawl out from under my skin, will you!” He pulled her into the shadows and crushed his mouth on hers.

  Olivia closed her eyes and inhaled his scent as she pressed closer, wanting more. Wanting to feel every inch of him. Mmmm. Delicious. I’m under his skin? That may have some advantages after all.

  Chapter Eleven

  London—Monday, The Twelfth of August

  Instead of returning directly to Wilson Academy from Brighton, Sebastian detoured to London to confront the home secretary. And since he had not thought to make an appointment, he cooled his heels for an hour before Sidmouth summoned him.

  “Sorry, spymaster. I was tied up in an unavoidable meeting with some very important committee members of Parliament.” He smiled at the look of surprise on Sebastian’s face. “Did you think I had no one I need answer to for my actions? There is a pecking order everywhere in government, my friend.”

  Sebastian’s mouth performed a smile, but not his eyes. “I never thought otherwise, sir.”

  “What brings you here today, Brooks?”

  “Since you have taken a personal interest in trainee Fairchild, I thought it my duty to report that she disobeyed orders and left the academy grounds.”

  The home secretary’s eyes flew open in surprise. “You don’t mean to tell me she’s disappeared?”

  “No, sir. She had the audacity to steal a horse and ride off without my permission.”

  Sidmouth stroked his chin, yet his eyes never left Sebastian’s face. “There must have been a reason. Have you discovered her intentions?”

  “A family matter, sir. Fairchild was determined to attend her sister’s betrothal ball at Heatham.”

  “Her sister is betrothed to Darlington, is she not?”

  Sebastian drew in a breath, for he knew he was treading on tenuous ground. “That’s correct, sir. Lady Helena Fairchild is your aide’s affianced.”

  “Tell me, spymaster. Would you have given her your permission had she petitioned you first?”

  The question caused his face to color. “That isn’t the point, sir. She didn’t ask, which is typical of her behavior. She never asks. She just does what she pleases, sir. I suspect that, being the daughter of a duke, she is accustomed to having her own way in all things. She doesn’t think rules apply to her. That’s a dangerous notion for a spy in government service, you’ll have to agree.” Sebastian was startled by the odd sound of his own words. Was he actually whining?

  “What do you suggest we do to remedy this fault in her?”

  “Let me be frank, sir. If it were up to me, I’d send her packing. She’s not good spy material.”

  The viscount clasped his hands and spoke in the patient voice of a father to his son. “But it isn’t up to you, spymaster. From what you have just told me, Fairchild is guilty of nothing more than a foolish omission. Had she asked, I’m sure your sense of compassion would have allowed her to attend such a joyous family celebration. If one of your other trainees came to you with a request to attend a family funeral or a joyous event such as Fairchild broke your rules for, you wouldn’t think twice in giving your permission, now would you?”

  The truth of this struck Sebastian with the force of a thunderbolt. He hung his head and said, “No, sir. I suppose I would allow it.”

  “I advise you to think of some suitable reprimand for Fairchild and get on with your training program. But under no circumstance will I allow you to send her packing. Good day, spymaster.”

  Heatham—Olivia stayed the night in spite of the spymaster’s threats. Indeed, they did little to mar the afterglow of the family reunion. She knew she would have to face his wrath when she returned to the academy, but she was determined to prevail no matter what punishment he had in store for her.

  What she had not anticipated was this new tactic. He dogged her every step when she returned. He witnessed Olivia sail through calisthenics. Inspired by his frown, she performed twenty-five push-ups, her highest number thus far.

  The f
eat prompted Denville to say, “Good show, Fairchild! Congratulate her lads.” This brought a lusty cheer from the others.

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” she said, pulling her pantaloons wide, and performing a mock curtsey. She never once glanced in Sebastian’s direction.

  At the same time, Sebastian took Denville aside and said, “Why praise her performance? Fairchild didn’t once raise her knees off the floor like the others.”

  Denville slanted his eyes toward the spymaster. “Ease off, spymaster. She’s not built the way we are. She’s a woman, or haven’t you noticed?”

  In answer, he made no comment, yet the look on his face was not kind. He followed her into codes and ciphers class, where Foster handed the trainees a message in an unfamiliar code and requested them to solve it.

  As though it were merely a simple puzzle, Olivia was the first to do so and was rewarded with Foster’s praise.

  Sebastian sat silent in the back of the classroom, his hands folded across his chest.

  Their next class was fencing. “Why is the spymaster on our tails this morning?” Riggs asked Olivia in a whisper as they entered the changing room.

  “Don’t let it bother you. It’s me he’s after. As usual.”

  Riggs nodded in understanding. “By the way. Where were you? I haven’t seen you since breakfast on Saturday morning. You didn’t show up for lunch or for dinner and on Sunday you missed chapel as well as all your meals.”

  It didn’t take her long to invent an answer. “I took a large midday meal with Mrs. Hunnicut on Saturday, and by dinnertime, I wasn’t hungry. On Sunday, I did not at all feel the thing—something I ate, no doubt—so I stayed in bed all day. Jenny brought me some broth.”

  Riggs cast her a suspicious glance, but he said no more.

  The trainees donned their chest protectors, fencing gloves and wire net masks. They each chose a foil and took their place along the wall in the fencing room, awaiting Fourier’s orders. But their instructor was deep in conversation with the spymaster, who also wore a fencing vest, held his sword glove in one hand and his fencing mask in the other.