§
Two hours later, Frederick waited outside Queen Victoria’s receiving room. He’d thought his stomach would be roiling with apprehension, but instead, an unusual sense of calm had descended.
A few moments later, a diplomat pushed open the door of the receiving room and hurried through it. Based on the irritated glance the man shot toward Frederick, he assumed the Queen had dismissed him. Apparently, she was eager to hear Frederick’s news.
A footman gestured for Frederick to enter, and he rose to his feet, gathering the items he’d brought with him.
Queen Victoria assessed him as he walked through the door. Frederick offered a low bow.
“You can leave us,” Queen Victoria said to the footman.
The man silently closed the doors and left the comfortable room. Frederick had been here before, but as always he was surprised by the sense of welcome. This wasn’t a space for intimidating visitors, but one that put them at their ease. He’d already come to the conclusion the effect was intentional. A space such as this would encourage visitors to let down their guard. Despite himself, he already felt it working its magic on him.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Woolsy. I trust all is well with you. I heard you were injured the night of the Koliada Ball.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. The burns are healing nicely. I’m no longer obliged to wear bandages.”
She nodded. “That is good news, indeed.” She focused her gaze on the parcels he carried. “What did you bring?”
“Two items I believe you’ll find of interest, Your Majesty.” He held up the rectangular package. “Here’s the book you asked me to retrieve.”
“Open it,” she directed, gesturing toward a desk near a window.
He tucked the second package under his arm as he placed the first one on the desk and picked up a small pair of scissors. He snipped the twine wrapped around the paper and then used a delicate book knife to cut away the brown paper, revealing the blackened church register.
Queen Victoria raised an eyebrow, glancing at Frederick. “It’s as bad as I’d feared after reading your report,” she said. “Are its contents completely destroyed?”
“I’m afraid the pertinent pages are, yes. The book landed open in the fireplace. Other parts are largely unharmed, but the section pertaining to Czar Nicolas was destroyed.”
She approached the book and carefully flipped it open, examining the blacked pages. “They’re certainly unreadable.” She closed the book, wrinkling her nose at the acrid smell of burned paper and leather. “It’s a shame. I’d hoped to be able to use it in my negotiations with Czar Nicholas. It would have been a gamble, though. The efficacy of my plan was questionable at best.”
“I apologize for failing you,” he said bluntly.
She waved her hand. “War in the Crimea is unavoidable. The Russians proved that point in the Battle of Sinop when their bloodthirsty admiral continued attacking those ships even after they’d surrendered. My people are angry about that senseless slaughter, as am I. Delaying a declaration of war isn’t wise. If I’d acquired this book months ago, I might have used it to stop the war, but at this point, even if it were still intact, I doubt it could change what’s to come.”
“Thank you for telling me, Your Majesty. You’ve eased my conscience somewhat,” Frederick admitted. “I’m not accustomed to failing.”
She gave him a level stare, evaluating him. “I’m aware of that. You’re a driven man. Intelligent. Hardworking. An excellent choice to become our new spymaster.”
The words stunned him. “Your Majesty?”
She smiled. “Did you think the appointment of such an important position would escape my notice?”
“I hadn’t thought the decision quite so imminent as to merit your interest.”
“I met with Lord Cary yesterday, and he assured me you were his choice as a successor.” Her expression revealed nothing.
Frederick tensed, tightening his grip on the package he still held. “In that case, Your Majesty, I think it’s imperative that you take a moment to examine the contents of my second package.” He held it out to her.
She hesitated briefly and then nodded, accepting it. She took a moment to weigh the parcel in her hands. “If this is what I think it is... it’s such a small thing to have such far-reaching consequences. Just like that church register.”
She’d guessed correctly, he suddenly realized. Somehow, she knew he’d given her the forgery. But how? Was it simply due to the size and shape of the package, or had Lord Cary told her?
She picked up a slim, ornate book knife from her desk and made quick work of the wrapping. As the paper peeled away, it revealed a small wooden box. She released the tiny catch on the side, flipped it open, and stared. Then she gave a small smile of satisfaction. “I’ve had people searching for this for fifteen years.”
“My brother found a pair of satchels in a hidden section of our house,” he said, “and this was in one. He turned it over to me immediately.”
She slid a gloved finger over the raised lettering. “I haven’t seen this particular design of my seal in two years. The true Great Seal wore out, and I commissioned a new version. The lines in the forgery are still sharp and crisp.” She pulled it from the box, examining it closely. “I must admit, holding this is an enormous relief. I was always worried that some document bearing a forged Great Seal of the Realm would appear and cause trouble. At least that concern will no longer plague me.” She smiled at Frederick.
“I’d expected you to be angry,” he admitted.
“Because of your father’s deeds?” She gave him a stern look, and Frederick suddenly felt like a child being reprimanded. “Really, Mr. Woolsy. You’re being most shortsighted. Why would I blame a loyal and hardworking subject for the wrongdoings committed by another? That’s nonsensical. Surely you can see that.”
He bent his head under her chastisement. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“You also proved your integrity and honesty. I value these traits.” She lifted her chin, giving him a regal stare. “Congratulations, Mr. Woolsy. You’re now my new spymaster.”
§
Evening approached as Josephine used her book knife to slice open the uncut pages of A History of Anatolia, taking care to make the cut straight and even. The action came naturally to her, and for a moment she wondered how many fresh pages she’d cut in her life. How many times had she been the first person to read a new book, carefully slicing open the edges of the folded paper to reveal the secrets hidden inside?
She turned to the first page, her greedy eyes eager to plunder it.
She barely noticed as Fleet, her butler, entered the room, and when he held out a silver tray bearing a single letter, she took it without glancing up.
She absently picked up her book knife and slid it under the letter’s flap, slicing it cleanly along the edge. She flipped the envelope over as she extracted the missive, and only then did she recognize Frederick’s handwriting.
She froze for a moment. Using her new book as a distraction, she’d finally managed to temporarily banish him from her mind, but now he was back. As insistent and impossible to ignore as ever.
That kiss. She shook her head. It had been intoxicating. She blushed to recall how quickly she’d become oblivious to her surroundings. She’d been on the verge of tugging off his jacket when he’d pulled away. What if he hadn’t heard Mr. Beasley approaching? The thought of how close she’d come to being caught left her face hot with embarrassment.
She glanced down at the brief note and held her breath as she read it. By the end of the page, her chest felt tight. He was going to the Queen? She glanced at the clock on the mantel. He must already be there.
Had her words convinced him to go directly to the Queen? Suddenly, she couldn’t seem to breathe. What if everything went wrong? What if Queen Victoria was furious with him? What if she dismissed him from her service? Frederick’s work as a spy meant everything to him. She couldn’t imagine him being happy doing anything el
se with his life.
She glanced at the clock again, but hardly any time had passed.
Worrying would do no good. She picked up her book again, hoping to immerse herself back in A History of Anatolia. Perhaps she could decipher the mystery of why a Grecian style monument had been found there.
She read the same paragraph at least four times. The people of the region originally spoke Greek until they were overrun by— by— She tossed the book to one side, unable to concentrate. How could she focus on the mystery of the monument when the mystery of Frederick was foremost in her mind?
Too bad she couldn’t learn more about him by reading a book. Life would be much easier that way. “The Mysteries of Frederick,” she muttered, glancing at her book in irritation.
Only Frederick could reveal himself to her, and that wasn’t likely to happen.
She stood, brushing her hands down the front of her gown to smooth away the wrinkles that had formed while she’d been sitting.
She glanced out the window. The sun was just beginning to set, but the remaining bit of grayish-blue sky reminded her of Frederick’s eyes when he’d gazed at her in bed. When his pupils had grown large, banishing most of the color from them. A darker, grayish blue. A mysterious blue.
She tore her gaze away from the sky. She’d take a walk and clear her mind. She’d banish Frederick from her thoughts with a bit of physical activity.
She quickly donned her hat and coat and hurried outside. As she strode down the street, she was so intent on her goal that she nearly walked directly into the postman. He bobbed his head, sidestepped her, and walked directly to her door.
Fleet still stood framed in the open doorway. He must have seen the postman coming and had waited. The letter carrier handed her butler an envelope and then hurried on his way.
Josephine paused and stared at the letter in Fleet’s hand. Could it be from Frederick?
She hurried back to her house and held out her hand to Fleet. As he passed her the envelope, she immediately recognized Frederick’s handwriting. Her grip tightened on it. He must have already finished meeting with the Queen.
She ripped open the envelope, not worrying about clean edges and book knives.
The letter was short. Simple.
J.
It is with considerable relief that I report that my meeting with Her Highness was a success. She continues to hold me in high regard.
There is more news I would like to convey, but a letter will not suffice. Please inform me of a time when I might be permitted to call upon you.
Yours always,
F.
A confusing mix of emotions washed through her. Relief. Confusion. Excitement. But at the moment, relief won out. An enormous weight suddenly lifted from her shoulders. She felt five stone lighter as she tucked the letter into her coat pocket.
“Good news, ma’am?” Fleet asked.
She grinned. “Yes. Very good.” She turned her back to her townhouse and continued on her way.
Frederick’s new level of openness surprised her. Not only was he keeping her informed, but he also wanted to share some important news with her.
At first, she tried to ignore the flutter of pleasure he evoked, but then she gave in and allowed herself to enjoy it. She liked this change. She liked it immensely. But could she trust it? After all, he’d only sent her two brief letters. That was hardly enough to prove he’d truly changed.
But he was trying, wasn’t he?
She stuffed her hand in her coat pocket and wrapped her fingers around the missive. It was best to view Frederick’s letters as what they were: simple updates to a conversation they’d had when he’d asked for her advice. Nothing more.
Nothing to base a future upon.
She pulled the letter from her pocket and read though it again, hating herself even as she did so. There was no underlying subtext. Just a simple update regarding his meeting with the Queen. It was entirely circumspect and vague about the details. Of course, he couldn’t very well mention his father’s treason here. That would be lunacy. What if someone intercepted it?
She shook her head. Now she was thinking like a spy, too.
But there was that last part. He had more he wanted to tell her. And to do that, he wanted to call on her.
She frowned. She shouldn’t let this man wheedle his way back into her heart so easily. She had to steel her heart against him.
She couldn’t give in. Not now. Because if she was wrong and he hadn’t changed, where would she find the strength to walk away again?
She brushed a gloved hand against her cheek, wiping away a tracing of tears.
Why did doing the right thing hurt so much? Better a small hurt now than a devastating one later, she assured herself. Because losing her heart to a man who could never open up to her would be a devastating sort of life. One that would leave her even more lonely than she felt right now.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The following evening, Frederick forced himself to remain motionless while Herbert trimmed his hair and shaved him.
He dressed with care, ensuring his evening clothes were brushed and in perfect order.
True, his appearance wouldn’t be a deciding factor tonight. In fact, the way he looked would probably have no bearing on Josephine’s decision. But he wouldn’t take any chances. Not when so much was at stake.
Herbert used a brush to rid Fredrick’s evening coat of stray traces of lint. He addressed every detail of Frederick’s attire. Nothing escaped his notice.
The attention to minutiae served as a balm. Frederick’s future depended upon tonight. He felt it in his bones. As things stood now, the current state of his life wasn’t good enough. Not by half. Yes, he was the new spymaster, but the victory seemed hollow.
His heart held a gaping hole only Josephine could fill.
Frederick surveyed himself in the mirror, smoothing the line of his coat and noting the nearly invisible bulge in his pocket. No one else would ever spot it. He gave his reflection a brisk nod. “Good luck,” he murmured. “You’ll need it.”
“Pardon?” Herbert said.
“Just talking to myself.”
“Good luck then, sir. I hope all goes well for you.”
Frederick locked eyes with him. “As do I. Thank you.”
§
Frederick sauntered into the ballroom, keeping his eye out for Josephine. She’d replied to his letter, informing him she preferred to meet him in a public setting. The annual Palmerton ball.
He scoured the dance floor and finally caught a glimpse of her as she spun past him in a waltz. Lord Temple held her in his arms. A bit too closely, by Frederick’s reckoning. That man was becoming as irritating as a thorn.
It was no great task to watch them unobserved. Lord Temple smiled down at Josephine and then leaned closer to whisper something in her ear.
She smiled, but it was one of those polite smiles that didn’t seem to reach her eyes. She looked a bit wan to Frederick. Strained. As though she hadn’t slept well.
A sudden spike of jealousy stabbed him. He wanted to be the one holding her in his arms right now. The one whispering in her ear. He was certain that if it had been his voice whispering in her ear, her answering smile would have been more tender. More sincere.
The waltzers continued moving in a large circle as they traversed the dance floor. Frederick lost sight of her for a short time, but then he found her swirling toward him again.
Her eyes didn’t gaze back at Lord Temple. Instead, they scanned the ballroom. As she moved closer, Frederick tensed, waiting.
Josephine’s gaze slid past him, and then flew back.
Their eyes locked. She stiffened. Color rose in her cheeks as she glanced away.
She didn’t look at him again, but neither did she continue to scan the room. She’d already found what she’d been looking for— or rather, who.
As the waltz ended, Frederick watched to see where they’d go. Josephine joined a group of her friends near one of the alcoves while Lord
Temple escorted a new partner to the dance floor.
As Frederick approached, Lady Elizabeth caught sight of him and stiffened, moving closer to Josephine in a way that struck him as protective. She murmured something into Josephine’s ear.
Interesting.
Josephine spun to face him, her smile tight and brittle. She appeared flushed as she touched her fingers to her face in a gesture he’d seen so many times before. It revealed exactly how nervous she was.
But it was her shuttered expression that made him feel as though he’d just plunged through ice.
She was closing him out. Keeping him at a distance.
How would he break through?
Honesty. That was what she wanted from him. That was what it would take. Complete honesty. But where could he begin?
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said, pitching his voice so only she could hear. “In fact, I’ve thought of little else since we last met.”
Her flush deepened and she glanced at her friend. “Could you excuse us for a moment? I need to speak with Mr. Woolsy.”
The look Lady Elizabeth sent his way was full of warning. “Are you certain that’s what you want?” she asked Josephine.
“It’s necessary.” She gave her friend a confident smile as she took Frederick’s arm. “Shall we walk?” she asked him. “I’m parched. Perhaps you can find something for me to drink.”
“Certainly. I’m happy to do anything you want, as long as I do it with you.” He slid his hand over hers, slipping his thumb beneath her palm to touch its sensitive center.
Her hand trembled. She blushed as she turned her face away from him.
They wove through the press of people. Frederick spied an open door leading into an empty corridor and aimed for it.
They slipped into the hallway. As a footman bearing a tray of drinks approached, Frederick moved to intercept him. The man paused so Frederick could select a glass of punch.
Frederick tilted his head toward a staircase leading to the viewing gallery. “Shall we watch the ball from above? The gallery provides a wonderful vantage point.”
My Lady, My Spy (Secrets and Seduction Book 4) Page 14