My Gentleman Spy (The Duke of Strathmore Book 5)

by Sasha Cottman

  She reached out and touched the sleeve of his jacket.

  “Thank you” she said.

  “Good.”

  They silently stared at one another in the reflection of the mirror for a minute longer, before the soft voice of Hattie's maid came from outside in the hallway. Will looked toward the door.

  “May I attend to the senorita, Senor? Your prometida may wish to finish dressing,” she said.

  “Prometida?” Hattie whispered.

  Will turned and gave her warm smile.

  “It's Spanish for fiancée, which considering your current predicament is probably the best thing you can pretend to be until we arrive back in England,” he replied.

  Will waited patiently downstairs in the main dining room of the hotel. The rooms of the Seawinds Hotel were too small to be able to partake of breakfast privately.

  Prometida.

  The word had slipped quickly off his tongue when Hattie's maid entered the room.

  “Yes of course, my prometida would like to finish dressing. She had a terrible nightmare, but is recovered enough now. Aren't you my sweet?” he said.

  When he placed a chaste kiss on Hattie’s cheek the maid giggled and blushed. The stunned look on Hattie's face had made his bold move worth it.

  She had shared something of her real self this morning. He had no doubt that whoever and wherever her parents were, they were in great distress over their missing daughter. There was a deal of truth in her lie.

  Her maid had in her mistake, handed him the perfect solution to their masquerade. By claiming her as his fiancée Will could pull her into his version of the story. If a false story was to be created around them, he would be the one framing the picture.

  “Mr. Saunders?”

  He looked up and saw a vision of loveliness which filled his heart with joy. While Hattie’s day gown was a simple pale cream, the jacket she wore over it was a magnificent deep crimson. She wore a matching crimson ribbon in her hair.

  His heart lifted when he saw a smile come to her lips. The tears were gone and he saw hope shine in her face.

  Rising quickly from the table, Will took hold of Hattie's hand and placed a kiss on it. As she tried to pull away, he gently rebuked her.

  “It would not do to show any form of displeasure with me in public. Don’t think for a moment that the whole staff of the hotel are not currently discussing us and the little scene in your room earlier. I expect your maid could not get down those stairs fast enough to run and tell anyone who wished to listen that the English lady and gentleman must have had a disagreement, and that you had been crying.”

  The small 'o' which appeared on Hattie's lips and the relaxation of her hand was encouraging. He leaned in close and murmured in her ear.

  “And do not call me Mr. Saunders, we are supposed to be engaged. I am William. Will to all my friends and family. If you continue to address me in such a formal fashion, you will give the game away.”

  Hattie nodded her head.

  “Will,” she replied.

  Over a breakfast of coffee and sweet buns, he did his best to form a more familiar bond with her. He chuckled at her puzzled face when she saw the paucity of their breakfast.

  “They adhere to the Spanish way of things here for a lot of their customs. A small breakfast, followed by something a little more substantial later in the morning. The main meal of the day is partaken after midday,” he explained.

  “That's odd,” she replied.

  “Not really. People rise early here, get some work done and then after the midday meal they go and have a long sleep to avoid the afternoon heat. Notice how tired you were yesterday by the time you went to bed? The heat of the Spanish sun saps all the energy out of you,” he said.

  As he sat and watched her, Will was once again reminded of his late wife. Hattie and Yvette shared some very similar mannerisms. The first time Hattie screwed up her face at the bitter coffee, Will came close to tears. Yvette had always liked to take the first sip of her morning coffee before declaring it undrinkable and heaping sugar into the cup.

  He slid the small pot of sugar across the table, and with a flourish removed the lid.

  “A large spoonful always takes the bitterness away,” he said. He hastily coughed, clearing the lump which had formed in his throat.

  Hattie took several more bites of her sweet breakfast roll before sitting back in her chair. The coffee she left untouched.

  “So, what now? Do I just keep to my room until the boat back to England sails?” she asked.

  No matter what the truth was behind her lies, he found himself becoming fonder of her every minute. He liked that she was able to see the bigger picture of their situation. The leap from the side of the ship, was he suspected, a complete aberration of her normal behavior. That she was not by nature a risk taker. In that she and Yvette differed greatly.

  “I was thinking about that while I was waiting for you. Are you someone who enjoys the outdoors or the countryside?” he replied.

  She sat silent for a moment, before finally replying.

  “I do like to get out and walk in the fresh air,” she said.

  Anyone else would have added further details of their life. Of the parks they regularly visited or their favourite place to ramble, but not her. If she had been one of his young, still in training operatives, he would have applauded her effort. She had given him an answer, but only just enough.

  Her body language however still gave her away as an amateur. A good spy should be able to utter the words and appear relaxed. Hattie had unconsciously stiffened her back.

  “Good. Then I think we should agree to use the time we have remaining in Gibraltar to its best advantage. The boat leaves on the tide tomorrow night, so we have time today to venture across to the base of the Rock and to visit the cave of St Michael. I visited the cave earlier in the week and I must say it was well worth the effort. It would be remiss of me as your host not to show you the caves.

  But first, I think we should make the trip up to see Europa Point. We can go later this morning. In the meantime, we can visit the local town shops and purchase any other items you might need for the sea voyage home,” he replied.

  Chapter Seven

  The last thing on Hattie’s mind as she swam ashore the previous morning was to spend her time in Gibraltar as a tourist. Her parents and Peter had determined it best she remained at the guesthouse during their stay. Sightseeing was a frivolous waste of a young woman's time.

  To her surprise and utter delight, Will had other ideas. He took on the role of amusing and engaging host with thinly veiled relish.

  After purchasing supplies for the boat trip, including several books, Will hired a local guide to show them the sights. It was late afternoon when they finally reached Europa Point, the southernmost tip of the European continent.

  “Our guide says be careful where you step, the donkeys don’t mind where they leave their fresh droppings” said Will.

  Before she could say otherwise, Will had placed his hands either side of her waist and was lifting her down from the small cart which had brought them along Europa road.

  On the trip up from the town, Will had given Hattie a quick lesson in the history of Gibraltar and the Rock.

  “Pretty much everyone in this part of the world has ruled Gibraltar at some point. The Moors took control in the eighth century, finally being thrown out in the thirteenth. Between then and when the British took control last century, the Spanish fought amongst themselves to rule. The Spanish of course would like to have it back, but I can't see that happening any time soon.”

  “What about the locals, what do they want?” Hattie replied.

  Will paused for a moment, then answered. “To be honest, I think they are happy to keep things just as they are. That way they get the best of both worlds. The British spend money here with the naval military presence and shipping, while Spain is only a short distance away for food and supplies.”

  Keeping up the pretense of being a
n engaged couple, Hattie slipped her hand into Will's arm and let him escort her across the short stony patch of ground from the cart to the edge of Europa Point.

  The guide whom Will had hired in the town, stood with his hands on his hips and surveyed the view out to sea. His donkey being less interested in the view wandered over to a nearby clump of wild jasmine and began prodding the leaves with its nose.

  “Lo que es una magnifica vista,” the guide exclaimed.

  Hattie and Will came and stood beside him. She nodded her agreement. It required no translation to understand what the ruddy faced man had said. The view spoke for itself.

  Miles and miles of ocean stretched out before them on three sides. Far below them, the blue of the sea was broken only by the reflection of the hot sun as it shone a bright ribbon across the glass like surface of the water. Will pointed off into the distance, to where Hattie could see a line of mountains on the opposite side of the water.

  “Those are the Rif mountains of Morocco. The tall mountain is Jebel Musa, otherwise known as one of the Pillar of Hercules. This is an ancient land. We are standing on the southernmost tip of Europe and over there is Africa,” he said.

  Africa. The massive continent that had once held her future now lay in view across the thin stretch of water that was the Strait of Gibraltar. It was so close, that she felt she could reach out her hand and touch the mountains.

  She looked down at her new boots. They were coated in the fine limestone dust of the Rock. Dust from the European continent.

  When she looked back again across the water, she smiled. There was no pull in her heart to make the journey. The dark land did not beckon unto her to come into its embrace. And with that she let go of much of her fear.

  She knew where she belonged. Home in England.

  Will caught her smile and raised an eyebrow.

  “At least you can say you have seen Africa, albeit from a distance. What do think?” he said.

  “I think I would like to go home,” she replied.

  They stood for a little while longer silently taking in the view. The only noise to be heard was the cry of seagulls on the wind and the occasional grunt from the donkey.

  Finally, the guide spoke and Hattie turned. As she did her jaw dropped. Towering above them was the Rock of Gibraltar in all its magnificence.

  From the town and the harbor, the pinnacle of the Rock had been hidden from view, but here at Europa Point, she had a clear view of the immense height of the limestone monolith.

  “It's amazing. I've never seen anything like it before,” she said.

  Will gave her an encouraging grin. He was not an easy man to discern. At times he was friendly and relaxed, like he had been since they left the town earlier. But at other moments, she sensed he was not by nature a happy man.

  Watching as he bent down and picked at a small clump of seaside daisies, she considered him again. There was an inherent sadness about him, but she suspected it had not always been so. Perhaps he had suffered a terrible loss in his life, one which had left deep scars. She could not explain why she felt this about him, finally forcing herself to accept that it was only a hunch.

  “Yes, the Rock is a true wonder of nature. Nearly one thousand, four hundred feet high,” said Will.

  He handed her a small bunch of daisies which had pure white petals and golden centers. Hattie accepted them with a shy smile. She held the flowers close to her heart. It was lovely to receive such a spontaneous gift.

  “We saw it from the deck of the ship as we came into the harbor, but it was early and with the low morning rain clouds we couldn't get a clear view. My father.”

  Hattie stopped herself just in time.

  She was about to tell Will how disappointed her father had been at his first sight of the Rock, when she realized what she was doing. The carefully constructed lie she had managed to maintain for the past day had nearly unraveled like a loose thread caught.

  “Your father?” he replied.

  The sunny disposition he had displayed moments earlier disappeared. His eyes became hooded, his face a study in wariness. She was reminded of the lion she had once seen at the Royal Menagerie in the Exeter Exchange. A dangerous wild beast ready to strike out at any moment and tear her to pieces.

  Hattie looked down at the bunch of flowers in her hands, while frantically searching for something to say. Anything.

  “Yes, my father. He has always wished to see Gibraltar,” she finally replied. The stems of the flowers bent in her tightly held hands.

  One thing she had learned since meeting Will was to keep her lies small. Any embellishment appeared to present him with the irresistible challenge to try and poke holes in her story.

  He did not believe her, of that much she was certain. She was at a loss to understand how he came to choose which aspects of her fabrication he would try to challenge. There was a strategy in play, but she could not see it clearly in her mind.

  He had not pressed her regarding the major parts of her lie, yet he seemed intent to work at its inconsequential edges. Edges which she knew were fraying by the minute.

  “Perhaps you shall travel here with him some time. Retrace the steps of your grand adventure. But first we must get you safely back to England,” he said.

  The lion retreated.

  As she looked at him, Hattie was possessed with an almost overwhelming desire to confess everything to Will. In many ways it would be so much easier if he knew. This continual game of trying to read one another's thoughts and emotions was exhausting.

  She hated lying. It went against everything she believed in. But telling Will the truth of her situation would mean handing him total control. With nothing left to negotiate with, she would be at his mercy. Once again powerless to determine her own life.

  “You said you had climbed to the top of the Rock,” she replied.

  If he was able to read her as well as she suspected he could, Will would know she wanted to change the subject. He had succeeded in cracking open a little more of the door to her secrets, now he would be content to let her become comfortable once more. Then he would press her again for answers.

  How long she could continue to play this game, she was not sure, but with luck by the time Will had finally put the pieces of the puzzle together she would have slipped from his grasp.

  “Yes, I ventured up to St Michael's cave earlier in the week. It is a steep walk up from the town, but we can visit it on our way back down from here. I doubt we shall have time tomorrow. I have some business matters to attend to in the morning before we sail,” he replied.

  Her mother had warned her about the monkeys that lived on the Rock. The wild Barbary monkeys were said to be dangerous and prone to attack without provocation.

  “I am not certain if I should go. What about the monkeys?” she said.

  He reached out and took hold of her hand. The look he had given her when he asked about why she had jumped from the ship reappeared on his face. It was a look so full of honesty, Hattie felt a tear spring to her eye.

  “Yes, you should, and do you know why? Because years from now, when you are old and reflective of your life, you will look back upon your brief stay in Gibraltar and remember the choices you made. That you were brave. You will not be disappointed with the cave. I promise I won’t let the monkeys hurt you. Trust me.”

  She pulled her hand away. Fear held her back. Many times, Peter Brown had shown her a small kindness only to then reveal it as nothing more than a means to bend her to his will. She would keep her own counsel.

  And yet.

  His deep grey eyes held the promise of warmth, of the strong bond of friendship and more. She was torn in a thousand directions as to what to do.

  The guide brought the donkey and cart over to where they stood. Will could tell Hattie was unsure as to what to do.

  “A short stay at the cave. If at any time you feel uncomfortable, you only have to say the word and we shall leave immediately. Agreed?” he offered.

  “Agre
ed.”

  He silently congratulated himself on having won her over, but knew he had to tread carefully. She was as skittish as a young colt this afternoon.

  On the road back down from Europa Point, he did his best to make small talk.

  “Did I tell you that the ship I have secured passage for us on board for our journey home is a sister ship to the Blade of Orion? It’s called the Canis Major, and while I am led to believe it is a little smaller than the ship you arrived in, it should still suit us fine.”

  Having made up her mind to accompany him to the cave Hattie appeared content to sit quietly and take in the view out over Gibraltar Harbor. After rambling on about the Spanish and how goods travelled back and forth between Spain and Gibraltar, and getting little in return from her, Will decided it was better to say nothing.

  At the cave of St Michael, the guide showed them the path. Will took hold of Hattie’s hand and led her up to the entrance of the cave. At the entrance a man sold them two tickets and a grass torch. Will lit it as he and Hattie walked slowly into the cave.

  Her hand gripped his. He turned toward her, offering her a reassuring smile. The light from the torch was reflected in her eyes. She was afraid, but she was with him. He would keep her safe.

  Several monkeys sat just inside the cave’s entrance. Will shooed them away. When it was clear than neither he nor Hattie had any food, the monkeys ambled away.

  “Is everything alright?” he ventured.

  Hattie looked away from the retreating monkeys and back to Will.

  “Yes. I was just thinking of the monkeys. They are rather tame, aren’t they? I did see some at the Tower of London once, but they were quite aggressive,” she replied.

  “Yes well, these ones can be nasty when the mood suits them. I would caution against attempting to pat any of them. Come let’s venture into the cave, then we shall go and find some supper. I am famished.”

  He led her deeper into the cave. The torch soon became the only source of light. Hattie squeezed Will’s hand more tightly.