by Pearl Wolf
“Yes, sir. Two of the spymaster’s trainees rescued him. One of the spies was shot dead in the struggle to save the spymaster. The three remaining have been turned over to the local militia for safekeeping until a decision is made as to their final destination.”
“Clever move. The prince will surely wish to take them back to Zarkovia to face punishment. I’m told that their system of justice is far more Draconian than our own, but we shan’t meddle in their internal affairs. Has the Regent and the prince been notified?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good work, Darlington.” The viscount placed his hands on his desk and sat back. “All’s well that ends well, as they say. The prince is safe, our spymaster is safe, and Heatham’s daughter is safe. He’ll be pleased, I’m sure.”
Chris took a deep breath. “I think I ought to prepare you, sir.”
“Prepare me? For what?”
“Fairchild is the trainee who saved the spymaster’s life. I’m told it was she who shot the assassin.”
“Wha—at?” the viscount said, as if the word had two syllables. “Who disobeyed my orders? Tell me who is responsible for allowing her to participate!”
“Fairchild is to blame for disobeying your orders, sir. She came to London in time to see the assassins overpower the spymaster. She followed and saw four of them drag the spymaster into one of those seedy buildings near the docks. With the help of trainee Riggs, they overpowered the four men and freed the spymaster.”
“His Grace will surely rake me over the coals for this.” Yet Sidmouth chuckled in spite of himself. “She has pluck, the stubborn puss. I’ll give her that.”
A knock on the door interrupted them. Chris opened it to Sebastian and Olivia.
“Afternoon, sir,” said Sebastian.
Sidmouth’s eyes opened wide at the sight of Olivia in the costume of a lady of ill repute. “And who’s this, spymaster? One of your people in disguise?”
“This, sir, is Fairchild. She saved my life.”
“Tell that to her father, sir. Perhaps, coming from you, it will ease his wrath at me for not keeping her out of this operation.”
“If you please, sir,” interrupted Olivia. “Allow me to tell my father. It will be better for all of us.”
The viscount rubbed his chin for what seemed an eternity. But then his mood lightened. “Perhaps you’re right, my dear. Be sure to offer my apologies, for being unable to restrain your, er…enthusiasm for your work. By the way, that’s a fine disguise. You certainly fooled me.”
“Might I accompany Fairchild home, sir? As your representative, I could offer His Grace our apologies. In fact, I would welcome the opportunity to do so.”
Olivia betrayed no emotion, but she wondered what he meant. He’s up to something. Whatever it is, I’m sure it doesn’t bode well for me.”
Sidmouth rose and came around his desk. He took both their hands. “Congratulations on a job well done, both of you. Feel free to tell your father that you saved England today, young lady.” He kissed her on both cheeks.
“Thank you, sir.”
“On your way, then.”
“Excuse me, sir,” said Darlington. “As you know, the duke and his family are in Brighton. Allow me to arrange transportation for Fairchild and the spymaster, if I may.”
When the door shut behind them, Sebastian said, “I need some time to make myself presentable to His Grace. I brought a change of clothing with me from the academy. My things are in the changing room.”
“You know I can’t go to Heatham looking like this, Chris. I’ll have to stop at Fairchild House so I can change as well.”
Darlington laughed. “What a stir you’d cause if you did appear before your father in that outrageous costume, Livy. Suppose I take you home while the spymaster gets ready. The home office carriage can bring him to Fairchild House when he’s finished and you can both begin the journey to Brighton from there.”
Olivia followed Chris out, stopping only to allow him to give the necessary orders.
Once underway in his curricle, Chris asked, “Why are you sulking, Livy? Are you angry with me?”
“Oh, no, Chris. I could never be angry with you. It’s the spymaster. I don’t trust him. He’s been trying to get rid of me ever since I began the program. He’s even gone so far as to ask me to marry him, as if that would serve his purpose. I suspect he’s planning to tell my father something underhanded.”
“His proposal sounds genuine. Do you love him?”
“No. I can’t love a man who orders me to stay behind like a good little girl.”
“Obviously, you didn’t obey. I think you’re being too hard on him. Leaving you behind wasn’t the spymaster’s idea. It was Sidmouth’s. He told me your father pressured him into it to keep you out of danger.”
Olivia frowned. “Did he? Just like Father.”
“Perhaps.”
Olivia didn’t notice the doubt in her friend’s voice. “Poor Father. Thank heaven he gave in to you and Helena. Which reminds me. Have you set a wedding date?”
“No, not yet.”
“If Father is putting more obstacles in your way, my sister Helena will be furious.”
“She’s furious all right, but not at your father. I’m the one she’s angry with. Now that the Zarkovian treaty’s been signed, I leave on special assignment. Helena wishes to marry before I leave, but your father won’t have it. I must say I agree with him in this instance. Neither one of us wants to deprive her of what every girl should have—a proper church wedding and a grand breakfast to follow.”
Olivia thought for a moment. “Is your assignment dangerous, Chris? Is that why you’re siding with Father?”
“Every assignment for the home office has the potential for danger. I know you’ve learned as much in your training. I might have been long gone and back again, but Sidmouth kept me here to oversee the Prince of Zarkovia’s safety. I expect to leave for the Continent as soon as the prince sails home.”
“Poor Helena. She’s loved you ever since the three of us were children cooking up mischief together.”
Chris looked pleased. “That long? Has she really? She never gave a hint of it.”
“It’s true just the same. When she was a mere twelve years old, she declared she was planning to marry you just as soon as you both were old enough.”
Chris laughed in delight. “And all this time, she’s had me convinced that I was in pursuit of her.”
When the carriage drew up to Fairchild House, Olivia said, “Take care, Chris. Come home safely to Helena.” She ran up the steps and pulled the bell.
“Milady! How good it is to see you. We’ll have your chamber ready in no time,” said the under butler when he opened the door. Forrester paid no attention to her garish apparel. The skeleton staff when the duke and his family were in Brighton consisted of the under butler, his wife who acted as housekeeper, two footmen and two under maids.
“Hello, Forrester. I’m not staying long. I’m on my way to Heatham. All I need is a hot bath and a change of clothing.”
“Mrs. Forrester and the maids will see to all your needs, milady. Go on up to your chamber. Shall I send up something for you to drink or to eat?”
“Tea, please, but not too much fuss. My escort and I will have dinner in Brighton with the family.”
The hot bath was a blessing, but Olivia didn’t linger. She was anxious to be underway. Mrs. Forrester helped her dress. And an under maid fixed her short hair.
She kept Sebastian cooling his heels in the drawing room for the better part of an hour. There was no place for him to sit, since all the furniture was well hidden under Holland covers for the summer.
“I’m ready, sir,” she said.
He turned to the doorway to face an angel. She wore a white muslin gown dotted with tiny bluebells, a blue ribbon tied under her breasts. Her short hair was held off her face with a matching bonnet tied under her chin with ribbons.
“You want only a halo, love. May I have my breath back,
if you please?”
Olivia smiled. “I’d forgotten how pleasant it is to be dressed as a lady for a change. Shall we go?”
Sebastian pulled on his gloves. He was dressed in the finest fashion—Hessian boots, form-fitting buckskins, a pale yellow silk vest, a superfine blue coat and a starched neckcloth expertly tied.
She wondered why he was turned out in such elegance. Did he have yet another scheme in mind she might not like? She took his arm as he led the way to the waiting carriage.
Chapter Eighteen
Brighton—That Evening
Sebastian handed her into the carriage and stepped in to sit beside her.
“Sit opposite,” she ordered. “Or I will, if you prefer it. Sir.”
“As you wish, ma’am.” He shut the door and took his seat. As the carriage began to move, he asked, “It’s clear that you’re angry, my love. What have I done to upset you?”
She kept her voice low, yet she could not hide her fury. “Saving your bloody hide from the assassins didn’t change anything, did it? My deeds in the course of my work mean nothing to you. The only time I please you is when you make love to me. Women are good for nothing but bedding. Isn’t that what you believe?”
“You’re wrong, my darling.”
“I’m not your ‘darling.’”
“What’s wrong with wanting to marry you? I can’t keep my hands to myself because I love you. Do you doubt my sincerity?”
“I’d much rather you thank me for a job well done, spymaster.”
“That, too, of course. Good God. You tie my tongue in knots when you’re angry. And when you look so luscious, all I can think of is to take you in my arms and…”
“I don’t want to hear that either. You’re two people, Sir Sebastian Brooks. I can’t seem to please the spymaster in you no matter what I do, yet I can always please the lusty Sebastian in you, can’t I?”
He grinned. “What else is there?”
She glared at him with fire in her eyes. “It’s no use talking. You’ll never understand me. What hurts me the most is that you don’t even bother to try.”
No further attempt at conversation was offered by either, but when the carriage drew up to Heatham, Olivia’s joy at being home overcame her rage. Without waiting for Sebastian to hand her down, she leaped out of the coach and ran up the front steps. The huge front door opened at the first ring and the haughty butler’s habitual look of disdain turned to one of delight, for Dunston considered her as one of his own beloved children, just as he did her sisters and her brother, having known them all since birth.
“Miss Livy! Do come in. How I have missed you! May I say it for the staff as well?”
“Thank you, Dunston.” She patted his gloved hand. “What time is dinner? Are there guests?”
“You’ll have ample time to freshen up, milady. The family is getting ready as we speak. Shall I announce you?”
“No, Dunston. I’d rather surprise everyone.”
“As you wish, milady. I’ll send an under maid to help you freshen up.”
“Have my abigail do it.”
“Sorry to say that Nancy took other employment right after you left London.”
A cough interrupted, reminding her that Sebastian stood waiting.
“I almost forgot, Dunston. This is Sir Sebastian Brooks. He has requested an audience with His Grace.”
The butler examined the visitor as if he were an unwanted insect, for he had detected a disapproving note in his mistress’ voice. “Very good, milady. Follow me, sir. You may wait in the library while I see if His Grace is prepared to receive you.”
Olivia grinned, enjoying the butler’s haughty tone very much indeed as she ran upstairs to her room. No one could equal Dunston in making a guest feel like an odious insect. As proper a set-down as she had ever heard him give. Serves Sebastian right, she thought.
She hadn’t long to wait before news of her arrival swept through Heatham like a sudden squall. The first to burst into her chamber was her mother.
“Livy, darling!”
“Oh, Mother! I haven’t the words to tell you how glad I am to see you.” She turned to the under maid. “Thank you, Milly. You can go, dear.”
Her Grace waited until the maid left to ask, “What have you done to your hair, child?”
“It’s such a long story. Suffice it to say I was just doing my duty.”
“And what duty was that, my sweet, adorable Livy?” asked Helena, rushing into the room. She gave her sister a hug.
“Stop, stop, you silly girl. You’re crushing my gown.”
Helena snapped her fingers. “I don’t care one whit for your gown. I’m just that happy to see you.”
“Where are the other brats?” asked Olivia.
“Miss Trumball took them out for a walk. They’ll be back soon enough,” replied Helena.
Olivia noted that her mother looked thoughtful. “Something on your mind? What is it, Mother?”
“How long shall you be staying with us, dear? Your father…”
“Truth is, I don’t really know. The spymaster is here seeing father as we speak.”
“About what, dear?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say it’s about enlisting Father’s aid in forcing me to resign, most likely. He consistently tries to sack me, but I have no intention of resigning without a fight. Training ends in a few weeks. I’ve come too far to allow that odious man to deny me the privilege of completing the course now.”
“Then you shan’t have to, dear, if I have anything to say to the matter,” said her mother with a forcefulness that surprised both sisters. “I’ll talk to your father.”
“The spymaster tried to prevent me from participating in protecting Prince Joachim of Zarkovia, but I found a way. I even saved the spymaster’s bloody life,” she added.
“Don’t use such vulgarities, Livy. If you saved his life, he should be grateful to you.”
“Hmmph! A lot he cares! The only thing he cares about is that I disobeyed his orders.”
“Why did you do such a thing?” Helena asked.
Olivia looked at her mother. “It was Father’s doing.”
“What do you mean, dear?”
“Father made Viscount Sidmouth promise to keep me out of danger. As if I needed his interference and so I shall tell him!”
“Go easy on him, Livy. You know what a temper he has,” warned Helena as she pulled the brush through Olivia’s short hair and rearranged the ribbons. There wasn’t much to style, as her short curls appeared to have a mind of their own. Even so, they surrounded her face in becoming fashion.
Just as Helena lay the brush down, the door burst open and three young girls shrieked, almost in unison, “Livy!”
“Hello, brats!” said Olivia to her youngest sisters Georgiana, Jane and Mary. She opened her arms to them. “Come here, you little terrors. Give your big sister a hug.”
The three ran to her, all talking at once. “Stand away and let me look at you,” Olivia demanded, disentangling herself at last. “Hmm, Georgie. You’re fair to becoming the most beautiful of all the Fairchild women. And you, Jane. How you’ve er…grown.” She didn’t have the heart to say what she thought, which was “how much wider you have grown.” “You too, Mary! You’re at least a foot taller.” Olivia stood up and smoothed her gown, rumpled by her sisters in their eagerness to greet her.
“It’s time I bearded our dear father in his lair,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes. “I wonder if he’s finished his interview with…”
“Do you mean that handsome man I saw in the library with Father?”
“Jane! Were you spying again?” said Georgiana.
“I wasn’t spying! I just happened to pass the terrace door and I just happened to notice this handsome…” She stopped and looked from one sister to another, and the disapproval she saw made her burst into tears. “You’re all against me! Mother, make them stop.”
“There, there, Jane. No one’s against you, my child,” soothed her mot
her. “It’s just that it isn’t ladylike to tell tales, you see. Why don’t you go to your room and rest until dinner?”
“All right, Mother,” she sniffled. “Welcome home, Livy.” At the door Jane threw her other sisters a look of scorn. In defiance, she added, “Anyway, Father and that handsome man were laughing their heads off!”
Her Grace changed the subject as soon as Jane shut the door. “You look lovely, Livy my dear. A bit thinner, but as beautiful as an angel. Go on down to see your father straight away. And try not to vex him.”
“I’ll try, Mother.” The sympathetic eyes of her sisters were on her as Olivia left the room. She walked slowly, all the while wondering what on earth Sebastian and her father found to laugh about.
“My butler informs me that you accompanied my daughter. Who are you?” asked the duke when Sebastian was ushered into the library. His tone was anything but welcoming. “What is it you wish to see me about?”
“I am Sir Sebastian Brooks. Forgive me for the intrusion, but I am here as a representative of Viscount Sidmouth, Your Grace.”
“Why didn’t you say so at once? What’s that old rascal up to now?”
“He wishes to offer you his apologies for being un able to er…restrain your daughter as promised, sir.”
The duke’s eyes narrowed. “I never asked him to promise me any such thing. Explain what you mean, young man.”
“Your daughter deliberately disobeyed orders. She came to London to help protect Prince Joachim of Zarkovia this morning. Fortunately, no harm came to her.”
“Who gave these orders?”
“I did, Your Grace, at the direction of Viscount Sidmouth. I am employed as the home office chief spymaster.”
The news did nothing to soften the duke’s ire, directed pell mell at anyone who had anything remotely to do with his willful child. “Where is my daughter now?”
“She’s here, Your Grace. In her chamber.”
“Tell Sidmouth his apology is accepted. You may go young man. What did you say your name was?”
“My name is Sir Sebastian Brooks, Your Grace. May I beg a bit more of your time? It’s a matter of utmost importance. At least to me.”