Too Hot for a Spy

by Pearl Wolf

  “Forget my breasts.”

  “Forget them? Never!”

  “What are you going to do when I begin my work in the home office? I must report there in twelve days.”

  “I don’t really know. Perhaps by then I’ll have received news of my new assignment.”

  “Your…what?”

  “My new assignment.” His hands played with her nipples.

  “Stop that. You’re joking, aren’t you?”

  “I was never more serious in my life. If you don’t believe me, ask Hugh. He’s the new spymaster. He’s leaving tomorrow to return to Wilson Academy because he must get ready for the new class of trainees. They begin the first of November.”

  “Will they send you off to foreign parts, do you think?”

  He shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest idea. Now be a good soldier and stop asking questions. We’re on our honeymoon, remember?” He nodded toward the open terrace doors. “The sun is setting on the pond, but it’s still warm outside. What would you say, wife, to a swim?”

  “Lovely idea, husband. I’ll get my bathing costume.”

  “Don’t be daft. I meant just as we are.”

  She laughed, a magnificent sound that quivered in his ears, very like church bells pealing.

  Chapter Thirty

  Bodmin Castle—Friday, The First of November

  When the newlyweds returned to the duke’s castle, they were greeted in the morning room by the duchess. The duke, his brother and his son Edward having had business in London, returned the previous day.

  “How are you, Your Grace?” Sebastian bent to kiss her hand.

  She smiled at her new son-in-law. “Let’s settle upon a less formal address first, Sebastian. You may call me ma’am in place of mother-in-law if you prefer, but do leave off calling me ‘Your Grace.’”

  “With pleasure, ma’am.”

  Upon entering the morning room, Helena said, “I hope you two lovebirds had a wonderful honeymoon. Hello, brother-in-law.” She bent to plant a kiss on his cheek.

  “Stay away from him, Helena. He’s all mine,” said Olivia in mock anger. She hugged her sister.

  The duchess observed the foolery among her eldest children with fondness. “You two may stay here as long as you like, but it’s time for me to take the rest of my family back to Heatham where we remain until the season in London begins.”

  “Of course, Mother.” Helena turned to Sebastian and Olivia. “I’ve already begun making arrangements. Shall you two be staying on?”

  Olivia looked at her husband, a question in her eyes.

  “No, ma’am. We leave for London. I have a town house there my bride has never seen. I’d like us to settle in before we begin our work for the home office.”

  “Sebastian! I didn’t know you had quarters in London.”

  He grinned at her. “You never asked, my love. Where did you think I stayed whenever I was in London?”

  Georgiana entered the morning room, a wistful expression on her face. For in spite of her sister Livy’s warning to beware imagining an attachment toward Hugh Denville, she fancied herself romantically bound to that gentleman. In point of fact, the love-struck sixteen-year-old had been moping around like an abandoned wife ever since her imagined lover left Bodmin. Had Denville known of this fanciful tendre, he would have been astonished, for during his stay, he was nothing if not correct in his behavior toward the young woman.

  The duchess knew from Georgiana’s air of sobriety as well as from her frequent sighs that she suffered a bad case of calf love. Was she not herself sixteen once? Even so, she wished that the duke had not gone back to London so soon after Livy’s wedding. His firmness of purpose was something she needed now.

  “Why so down in the mouth, Georgie?” asked an unsuspecting Sebastian.

  Olivia came to her rescue. “Never mind that, dear. Georgie just can’t wait for her debut. Isn’t that right, little sister?”

  “Oh, yes. My debut,” she answered tragically.

  Helena and Olivia burst out laughing.

  “Oh, you two! You don’t understand anything about…anything!” She ran out of the room, which only made her sisters laugh harder.

  “Don’t tease her so, you two. Give her time to get over it,” said the duchess.

  “Get over what?” asked Sebastian. “Is Georgiana ill?”

  Olivia took his hand and led him off to their chamber. “Never mind, darling. It’s a woman thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

  The family began to pack in readiness for their respective journeys. Olivia and Sebastian to London and the duchess, Helena, Georgiana, Mary and Jane to Heatham. Olivia and Sebastian chose to accompany the family to Brighton and stay until they were assured that the family was comfortably settled. Then they would return to London to begin their assignments.

  In the midst of all the arrangements, Amy Wells, Helena’s abigail, interrupted her mistress. “May I have a word, milady?”

  “Of course, Amy.” She glanced at the young woman’s face. “You’ve been crying. What’s wrong, dear?”

  “Me da passed, milady. I’ve just had this here letter.” She held it up as if to corroborate her tale. “I’ve got to leave your employ. Me ma can’t run our inn without me help, you see.”

  “Oh, Amy. I’m so sorry to lose you, but I do understand. You must do your duty to your mother. She needs you now. If your circumstances should ever change, dear, you shall always have a place with our family.”

  “Thank you kindly, milady.” Amy sniffed.

  “Where is your home, Amy?”

  “Less than a day’s ride, milady. Me family lives near Land’s End in South Cornwall. I’ll take the mail coach today at four, if y’can have someone drive me to town. The coach leaves from the Pig and Whistle in Bodmin.”

  “Of course, love. Pack your things and I’ll arrange it.” Helena hurried to her mother’s chamber and told her the news.

  “Poor child. Have Casper drive her to Bodmin as soon as she is ready.” The duchess went to her desk and removed a twenty pound note. “It’s little enough, but give her this as a parting gift and offer our condolences to her family.”

  “Thank you, Mother.” Helena withdrew, her heart gladdened by her mother’s kind gesture.

  When the packing was done, the family departed, leaving a skeleton staff to drape the furniture with Holland covers, draw the drapes shut, and do whatever else was required, for Bodmin Castle would not likely be used until the next family wedding.

  London—Monday, The Eleventh of November—Sebastian accompanied Olivia to the home office building on the appointed day, he to discover his new assignment and she to begin her work in the codes and ciphers division. The offices were housed in a separate wing of the building, far removed from the clerical section, a fact which gave her some satisfaction, however grim.

  When she reported to her division, she was escorted into her new supervisor’s office. “Mr. Gaines? I’m Fair child, your new decoder.”

  “Welcome. Your excellent reputation precedes you. Aaron Foster has nothing but the highest praise for your work.” He came around his desk and held a chair for her.

  “Thank you, sir. Forgive me if I ask an impertinent question. What do all the decoders call one another during the workday?”

  Gaines looked puzzled. “We address one another by our surnames. Why do you ask?”

  “Could you and all my colleagues see your way clear to affording me the same courtesy? It would please me very much if I were addressed only as Fairchild.”

  He grinned, not in the least offended. “I understand that you are a newlywed.”

  “Yes, I am. What has that got to do with anything?”

  “Would you not prefer that we address you as ‘Brooks’?”

  She laughed in appreciation of his sly wit. “Why not? But be patient with me. I’m such a newlywed, I may forget to answer to my new name.”

  Her morning flew by, what with being introduced to her colleagues—four in number—examinin
g her new office—it had a window!—and attending a meeting in the boardroom that lasted through lunch, served right where they sat so as not to interrupt the flow of their thoughts. Decoders were single-minded. They did not like to have their puzzle-solving habits interfered with.

  When Olivia returned to her office after the meeting was adjourned, she was surprised to find that her first day at work was almost over. “Come in,” she said, in answer to the knock on her door.

  A slight young man with dark hair and large brown eyes peered in and said, “Afternoon, ma’am. I’ve been assigned to you. My name is Quill.”

  She laughed. “You don’t mean like the pen?”

  “Exactly like the pen, ma’am. Do you mind?” His pleading eyes spoke volumes.

  There was no doubt in her mind that the young man had had to endure much bad humor for being named so. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty, ma’am.”

  “If you’re good at what you do, we’ll deal famously, Quill.” The clock on the wall over the door chimed five times.

  “Go home, Quill. I shall see you in the morning.”

  “Good night, ma’am.”

  Olivia sat in her carriage, willing it to fly home with greater speed, but the London traffic refused to cooperate. She was anxious to greet her husband. What was his assignment? she wondered. Would it take him far from her? And if it did could she bear the separation?

  She sat back and stared out the window. All in all, her first day had been filled with surprises. Good ones. She liked Gaines, her supervisor, and she found no fault with any of her new colleagues. No one patronized her or treated her with deference due to her title, false or sincere. Yes, she would manage tolerably well in codes and ciphers. Especially if she could come home to Sebastian every night of the week.

  Olivia flew up the steps of Sebastian’s town house on Half Moon Street. She smiled at Sebastian’s butler, who was about to offer his felicitations for the tenth time. “Not now, Spurgis. Where is my husband?”

  “I believe he is in his chamber, milady.”

  Squelching the urge to giggle for forgetting that it was her town house, too, and Spurgis was her butler as well. She lifted her skirt and took the steps two at a time.

  She opened the door to their bedchamber and called out, “Sebastian? I’m home, darling.” When there was no answer, she searched for him in their small dressing room and in the adjoining sitting room, but he was nowhere on the second floor.

  She rang for Jenny, and when she appeared at her door, she asked, “Where is my husband?”

  “He an’t come home that I know about, your la’ship. Your bath will be up in a moment. Let me help you get ready for dinner, milady.”

  “Is there no letter for me?”

  “No, milady.”

  Jenny chatted away about nothing very important, but while Olivia appeared to be listening, her mind was gripped with fear. All curiosity about his assignment vanished and in its place was fear for his safety.

  Why was there no letter informing her that he would be late for dinner? Had an accident befallen him? She pictured him lying trampled under the wheels of a carriage. He loved to walk. Perhaps he’d decided to stroll home and footpads murdered him. She suppressed the urge to dress and scour the streets of London for her love, berating herself for entertaining such foolish horrors.

  She allowed Jenny to put the finishing touches to her hair, got up and went down to the drawing room. She rang for the butler. “Will it put Cook out of temper if I ask her to wait dinner for Sir Sebastian?”

  “I’ll ask her straightaway, milady,” answered Spurgis. He returned with the news that she would keep dinner warm, offering the information that the cook hoped there would then be no loss of quality in the food. “May I bring you refreshment, milady?”

  “Lemonade, please.”

  By then it was seven o’clock. She picked up a novel she had begun to read, but she could not seem to attend to the words. The clock struck eight, and Sebastian did not appear. Her fears grew out of all proportion. What if the Russians had sent assassins to murder him?

  By ten o’clock, she was ready to summon the Bow Street Runners to search for him, but she scotched the idea.

  She nodded off in her easy chair by the fire only to wake with a start when the clock struck midnight. On the table by her side sat a tray of food. Her dinner, she supposed, but she had no appetite. She rang.

  “Yes, your la’ship?” He glanced at the untouched tray. “You haven’t eaten, milady.” There was pity for his mistress in Sturgis’ eyes.

  “I’m not hungry. Take the tray back to the kitchen, Sturgis. And go to bed. Tell the rest of the staff to do so as well. The porter can let Sir Sebastian in when he returns. I shall wait for him upstairs in my chamber.”

  Olivia mounted the stairs, dragging her feet as though they were weighted down with lead. She shut the door and leaned on it, taking deep breaths to calm her nerves. Searching for a bit of inner peace, she began to hum a chant, something Sensei Nori had taught her to use in times of stress. Still chanting softly, she lay down on their bed, grasping Sebastian’s pillow to her breast, a poor substitute for the man she loved.

  When the effectiveness of the chants wore off, she cried into Sebastian’s pillow until she fell into an uneasy sleep.

  At half past one in the morning, Sebastian shook his wife and said softly, “Livy? Forgive me for being so late, my darling.” He kissed her cheek and stroked her hair.

  Without a word, she threw her arms around his neck and began to sob.

  “Shhh, my love. I’m here. No need to cry.” He gave a quiet laugh and added, “Let go of me, wench. You’re strangling me.”

  “I thought you were murdered by footpads or Russian assassins and you were moldering in some dark alleyway,” she said, as tragically as an actress on stage.

  His eyes danced with amusement. “And make you a widow so soon after our wedding? Oh no, my love. I won’t allow you to cry off so easily.” Before she had time to answer, he brushed her lips with his, one hand holding her head and the other caressing her breast.

  She pulled away and searched his eyes, a question in hers. “It’s almost two in the morning, Sebastian. Where the devil have you been all this time?”

  “Mmmm. The smell of roses lingers still. You take them with you wherever you go, don’t you, my love?”

  She scrambled off the bed and began to pace up and down, her arms crossed. In a dangerous voice he knew only too well, she asked, “Don’t you dare lie to me, Sebastian. Where have you been?”

  Sebastian laughed at her. He lay back and clasped his hands behind his head. “Rest easy, my love. You’re the only lightskirt in my life. It’s almost morning. We have too little time left for a tumble, let alone for the violent plunder I have in mind.”

  “Not until you tell me where you’ve been.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m serious, Sebastian.”

  “Can’t you see by the cut of my trousers how much I lust for you? Oh well. If you must know, you stubborn puss, I was with Sidmouth.”

  “Sidmouth? I don’t believe it. He’s too old to keep his eyes open past ten.”

  “You’re wrong, pet. He’s riddled with steel when he fights for what he wants.”

  Curiosity softened her words. “Did it have something to do with your assignment?”

  “It had everything to do with it.”

  “Care to share it with me?”

  “You won’t like it.” He turned his head away to hide a grin.

  “Better an odious assignment than you lying dead somewhere in a back alley in London. Out with it. Where have you been assigned?”

  Sebastian feigned sobriety. “It will take me far from here, I can tell you.”

  Her heart sank. “How far? And for how long?”

  “Can’t say. Depends on the success of the mission.”

  “All right. Give me the details.”

  “First stop is Malta. Their government fears French domination. They’ve asked us to p
rotect them as well as their trade routes from the French. It may take me even farther afield.”

  She lost her temper. “For heaven’s sake, Sebastian. Don’t torture me by dragging this out. Get on with it.”

  He placed one hand over hers. “Egypt. But I can say no more.”

  His revelation stunned her, but she recovered her wits, though tears began to roll down her cheeks. She sat at the foot of their bed and wondered why her dolt of a husband hadn’t the good grace to reach for her and console her.

  “Oh, my dearest, dearest darling wife. I never dreamed I would see you so unhappy.”

  She sobbed, “What if you don’t come back to me? What shall I do without you?”

  There was such desolation in her voice, he could hardly bear it. This time she didn’t pull away when he reached for her and held her, kissing away her tears with much tenderness.

  “I need you so. Make love to me, my darling,” she whispered.

  Her despair made him feel like a wretch, yet he made gentle love to her, though she begged for plunder. “Not tonight, my love,” he murmured. “Tonight I want to gentle you.”

  It was sweet, but unsatisfying. It was soft, but disappointing. It was kind, but indecisive. It was not what she wanted and so she told him. “What’s wrong with you tonight, Sebastian? Where’s your fire? I have need of flame and you give me ash. Why?”

  Without a word, he rose to retrieve something from his dresser. He handed it to her in silence.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s a letter for you from the home secretary. You’d best read it, my love.”

  Her face held an avalanche of questions, but she did as he asked. She broke the wafer and spread the letter on the bed. The words were few, but their meaning was clear. Two emotions swept through her like a whirlwind. The first was elation and the second was fury. She scrambled to her knees and began pounding her husband on the chest hard enough to cause him pain, yet he did nothing to stop her.

  “Why couldn’t you just tell me I’ve been reassigned, you beast!”