The Lord and the Spy

by Slade, Heather

  “How many is that?”

  “One year it was twenty.”

  “Cor blimey,” I muttered.

  Shiver laughed and so did Wilder. “You’re one of us now, my darling.”

  35

  Wilder

  Christmas

  “Thank goodness Losha put her foot down with Mother over Christmas trees this year,” said Darrow, sitting with Wren and me over morning tea and coffee at the abbey.

  “How did she manage it?” I asked.

  “She said it would be too confusing for Kazmir.”

  “And that worked?” asked Wren.

  “He’s her first grandchild. She’d do anything for him and Lilliya.”

  “Where’s Pinch this morning?”

  “I’ve no idea,” my sister answered.

  “That’s off again, then?”

  She nodded, taking another sip of coffee. “Been off for quite a while, brother.”

  “I can’t keep up.”

  I sneaked a peek at Wren, who was looking at the ornaments on the tree, seemingly not paying attention to the conversation.

  I slung my arm around her shoulders. “What are you waiting for, darling? Did you have a question for Darrow?”

  “I’m not sure it’s the right time.”

  “For what?” Darrow asked.

  Wren held out the hand she’d been strategically hiding from my sister since she came in the room. “I was wondering if you’d be my maid of honor.”

  As I’d expected, Darrow’s shrieks of joy had everyone running to see what the fuss was about. Between the crowd of people hugging her and shaking my hand, my beautiful bride-to-be and I were on separate sides of the room, but our eyes stayed fixated on one another.

  “I love you,” I said over the din of my family and her father, whose permission I’d asked the night before last.

  “A Christmas Eve engagement! How romantic,” said the duchess, who looked over at Rivet.

  I had a feeling they had their own announcement to make, but wouldn’t steal the spotlight from Wren. I walked over and put my arm around my mother and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Duchess.”

  “Whatever for?” she asked, winking.

  “I don’t want to keep you from celebrating your own happiness.”

  “Today is your day, Sutton,” she whispered.

  Rivet stood behind me and clapped my back. “I understand your resignation from SIS is official?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Congratulations,” he said, shaking my hand.

  “Not exactly the reaction I expected.”

  “There’s an announcement to be made soon, I understand.”

  “George?”

  Rivet shook his head and motioned to the other side of the room where Wren stood, talking to her father.

  “Z?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I had no idea. He didn’t mention it.”

  “He and Pinch are credited with taking down Thomason. What’s more, between Z and Vera, Wren’s true identity and the role she played in the intelligence world was well contained.”

  “Who’s taking over MI5?”

  “It’s a tossup between Pinch and George.”

  “Bugger me. That’s not good. They’re vying?”

  “May the best man win, so to speak.”

  “Where is Pinch anyway?” I asked.

  “I was going to ask the same of you,” answered Rivet.

  “Perhaps he’s at Wellie’s.”

  “Darrow?” Shiver called out to her from the entryway.

  “Yes?”

  “You have a caller.”

  “What’s this, then?” muttered Rivet when she left the room.

  “No idea.”

  Moments later, we heard her squeal of delight. “Quint? I can’t believe you’re here!”

  Wren came over to me. “I can assure you, I knew nothing about this.”

  “Good bloody thing her and Pinch are on the outs,” I whispered.

  “I hear congratulations are in order,” Wren’s brother said after walking in, hugging Wren, and shaking my hand. “I’m Quint Alexander.”

  “Wilder Whittaker.”

  “What are you doing here, and how did you know about our engagement?” Wren asked, looking over at Z.

  “Yes, Z filled me in, but to be honest, I was worried about you.”

  “Why?”

  “We haven’t spoken since right after Thanksgiving.”

  “It isn’t like we do that kind of thing, Quint.”

  He laughed and motioned toward Darrow. “She’s acting surprised, but I was invited.”

  “That’s my sister,” I said, rolling my eyes. Later I’d have a talk with the little imp. As I’d said to Wren a few minutes earlier, it was a damn good thing she and Pinch were on the outs.

  “When’s the wedding?” Quint asked.

  “We’re keeping it very small. Pretty much limited to everyone in the room,” Wren answered.

  “Okay, when?”

  “Um…New Year’s Eve.”

  I caught the flash of hurt in Quint’s eyes, which he quickly masked. It was interesting how younger siblings often doubted whether the older had much interest in them. Wren had assumed that her older brother wouldn’t care about being at her wedding. It was something Wren and I had in common. There were many times I’d assumed Shiver couldn’t care less about my life when in actuality, he cared very much.

  “Will you be able to stay for it?” she asked.

  “Couldn’t get me to leave.”

  There was another commotion coming from the entryway. “Who else are we expecting?” I murmured to no one in particular.

  “Wellie! What a wonderful surprise,” I heard Shiver say in a voice that was louder than necessary. “And, Axel, we had no idea you’d be joining us. Come in, come in.”

  “Oh, my,” whispered Wren, giggling.

  Darrow turned around and pushed her.

  “Don’t start. If you start, I’ll start.”

  “These two,” said Quint. “They get the giggles at the most inappropriate times.”

  Wren and I stood back, watching Darrow, Quint, and Pinch as they attempted civility in the midst of terrific awkwardness.

  “Quint knows about Pinch. I don’t know if it’s the same the other way around.”

  “He should be able to figure it out, given his profession, my darling.”

  “I’m glad he can stay for the wedding.”

  “You’re sure you want to do it this quickly?”

  Wren turned her back to the room and put her arms around my waist. “I’d marry you right now if there was a magistrate here.”

  “What’s your rush?” I asked, leaning down to kiss beneath her ear.

  “The sooner we’re married, the sooner we can leave for the Maldives.”

  “Two weeks on Meeru Island. I fear you’ll grow bored.”

  “That’s your challenge, isn’t it? To see to it I don’t.”

  “Challenge accepted, my precious little bird.”

  Epilogue

  Wren

  New Year’s Eve

  “How are you doing?” asked Darrow, fussing with my hair.

  I laughed. “You’re more nervous than I am.”

  “You’re right. I am.”

  I set my bouquet of flowers on the bed and took Darrow’s hands in mine. “You haven’t been yourself since Christmas. Before that actually. Not since the dinner you left in the middle of.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You invited my brother to England for Christmas without even mentioning it to me.”

  “I didn’t want you to talk me out of it.”

  “That’s an honest response. Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine, just ready for the holidays to be over.”

  “Then what happens?”

  “Meaning?”

  “When is Quint leaving?”

  Darrow bit her lip. “I’m not certain.”


  “I see.”

  I watched my friend’s expression change. “Can we please focus? You are about to marry my brother.”

  “Yes, I am about to marry him.” I smiled, picked up my bouquet, and closed my eyes. By the time the clock struck midnight, I would be Mrs. Sutton Whittaker. I never dreamed we’d find our way back to each other, but we had. “I love him so much,” I murmured.

  “I’d give anything to feel the way you do now,” Darrow whispered.

  “You will,” I said, squeezing her hand. “When the time is right.”

  “I doubt it will ever be.”

  “As did I, and look at us.”

  “Just make sure I catch the bouquet.”

  “You’re the only single woman at the wedding. I’ll just hand it to you.”

  “My mother.”

  “Right. Well, she isn’t really single. Plus, she’s already been married, so she’s ineligible.”

  “Thanks, Wren,” said Darrow with tears in her eyes.

  “Why are you crying?”

  “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. I’m going to miss you so much.”

  “Don’t make me cry. I assure you, it won’t be pretty.” I dabbed at the corners of my eyes with my handkerchief. “And we aren’t going to be away that long. A month is all.”

  Darrow nodded, but there was something she wasn’t telling me; however, five minutes before I was supposed to descend the grand staircase in Whittaker Abbey to marry the love of my life wasn’t the time to get into it.

  “Ready?”

  “It was a beautiful wedding,” said Wilder’s mother as we were saying good night.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” I responded.

  “Please call me Victoria.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said and then laughed. “I mean Victoria.”

  “You’re leaving tomorrow, then?”

  Wilder put his arm around my shoulders. “Just after brunch in town. You’re under no obligation to attend if you have other plans.”

  “My son got married this evening. What other plans would I have?”

  “Perhaps a wedding of your own?”

  “Pish posh,” she answered, swatting at him. “We’ll elope and save you all the embarrassment.”

  “It’s nice to see you so happy, Duchess.”

  “And the two of you.”

  After carrying me over the threshold of Dorchester House, Wilder lit a fire and brought in two glasses of Wellie’s brandy.

  “We survived an entire week without a serious brawl between your brother and Pinch. I’m amazed,” he said, handing me a glass.

  “What was your sister thinking?”

  “I cannot tell you how many times I’ve asked myself the same question. Do you think your brother realized what was going on?”

  “He isn’t blind, Wilder.”

  “Yes, well, there was the murderous glare Pinch fixed on him whenever they were in the same room.”

  “I’m just glad he’s leaving tomorrow morning.”

  “Same time we are, or close, right?”

  “I don’t know. He just said tomorrow when I asked. And honestly, right at this moment, there is only one thing I care about.”

  “And that is?”

  “Mr. Whittaker, unless you are prepared to close all the draperies in this room, I highly suggest you take me upstairs immediately.”

  Wilder finished the brandy in his glass. “Just because we’re married, does not change who makes the rules, my beautiful bride,” he said, lifting me into his arms.

  “What in the world?” said Wilder when both of our phones’ as well as the house phone’s ringing woke us up the next morning. “They couldn’t just have brunch without us?”

  At the same time, we heard someone pounding on the door.

  “You get the phone; I’ll get the door,” said Wilder, pulling on a pair of pants.

  “Hello? Z? What’s going on?” I said, answering my father’s call.

  “Did you happen to speak with Darrow last night before you and Wilder left the abbey?”

  “Not other than to say good night and we’d see her in the morning.”

  “Brunch. Right. Thanks, sweetheart.”

  “Z? What’s going on?”

  “Nothing, I’m sure. She’s probably already in town.”

  I could hear him saying the same thing to someone in the background.

  “I’ll call you back,” he said, ending the call.

  I put on a robe and went downstairs. “Z just called, looking for Darrow,” I said, coming around the corner to find both Quint and Pinch in the sitting room.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Wilder, running a hand through his hair, turned around and put his arm around me.

  “Darrow’s gone missing.”

  “What? No, I was just talking with Z, and he said she probably went into town early.” I looked between Quint and Pinch. “Who saw her last?”

  “We both did,” answered Quint.

  “Well? Where were you?”

  “It was shortly after the two of you left. I went looking for her…” said Quint.

  “And found her with me,” added Pinch.

  “What happened then?” asked Wilder.

  Neither Quint nor Pinch responded.

  “What bloody happened?” yelled Wilder.

  “We got into a bit of a pissing match,” said Pinch.

  “Darrow tried to break it up, but neither of us was paying much attention to her.”

  “Her last words before she stormed out were ‘I never want to see either of you again.’”

  “You didn’t go after her?” I asked my brother, who shook his head.

  “Or you?” Wilder asked Pinch.

  “We actually proceeded to get quite wankered.”

  “What do you mean you got wankered?” asked Wilder, yelling again.

  “You know how she is, Wild,” said Pinch.

  “Where do you think she would’ve gone?” Quint asked.

  “Have you checked Wellie’s?” asked Wilder.

  “Not there. He reported not having seen her once he left your wedding party.”

  “And you checked the abbey. She didn’t just go sleep it off in a room there?”

  “If she’s there, we haven’t been able to find her.”

  I took Wilder’s hand and pulled him out of the room. “Has she done anything like this before?”

  Wilder nodded. “She left without telling a soul she was going to see you.”

  “She had to have told someone. Z delivered her.”

  “Yes, he was her ally in that foray.”

  “He doesn’t know where she is now, though. I just got off the phone with him.”

  “Bloody hell,” muttered Wilder.

  “What about friends? Cousins? Other family?”

  “It’s an endless list of possibilities,” he answered. “Let’s just hope she’s located before our flight.”

  I stared into my husband’s eyes.

  “I know that look. What are you thinking, darling?”

  “I’m sorry, Wilder, but we can’t leave until we find your sister.”

  Keep reading for a sneak peek

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  Keep reading for a sneak peek

  at the next book in the

  Royal Agents of MI6 series,

  The Commoner and the Correspondent

  A commoner buried in his work.

  A correspondent in over her head.

  Fiery and furious, they dig deep into the throes of passion.

  THE COMMONER

  Reporters need to back off. I’ve got a job to do. Being overworked, overwhelmed, and underappreciated, the last thing this M15 agent needs is a sexy and incredibly persuasive journalist knocking me off my game. But the terror in her
eyes tells me she needs me—in more ways than one.

  THE CORRESPONDENT

  The byline of a lifetime. Every reporter wants to unearth the biggest news story to hit the globe. And I’m close—so close. But when a body is left on my floor with a note, “You’re next!” I know I’m in over my head. Can this correspondent let down her guard and let the commoner take over?

  The Commoner and the Correspondent

  1

  Pinch

  “Bugger me,” I seethed when I heard the pub door open and saw the woman coming in.

  “Who’s that?” asked my best mate, Wilder. He and I had grown up together on his family’s estate. Now, we worked together for SIS, Her Majesty’s Secret Service—I was with MI5 and he had recently resigned from MI6.

  “Bloody reporter,” I answered, running my hand over my shortly cropped hair.

  “Looks familiar.”

  “Ms. Cartwright works for the Times. She’s also friends with your sister.”

  “She’s on her way over here,” Wilder warned.

  “If there’s anyone I’d like to walk into this pub less than the devil himself, it’s her.”

  “Why?”

  “She almost brought down my last investigation. Not to mention, she’s been snooping around about Wren.”

  “Bugger me,” muttered Wilder, repeating my earlier words and leaving me to join his wife and her brother at their table.

  Wren was a former secret agent for the United States National Security Agency, whose identity had been compromised by a leak at the UK’s Secret Intelligence Service—otherwise known as MI6. To make matters worse, the security breach had happened while Wilder was serving as the international section’s interim chief.

  Through the combined efforts of MI6 and MI5, the UK’s domestic counter-intelligence and security agency, we’d been able to mitigate the threat caused by her exposure. However, the last thing we needed now was someone like Ms. Cartwright poking her nose in it.

  Wren and Wilder had both resigned from their respective jobs right after they got married, in order to start a private intelligence consultancy. First, though, they were honeymooning in the Maldives for two weeks. The gathering tonight was to wish the couple a bon voyage.