The Spy’s Convenient Bride: The Macalisters, Book Five

by Taylor, Erica

  “You are no longer a member of this team and are therefore no longer privy to what is discussed within the confines of this room.” Gentleness was not in Halcourt’s temperament, so it sounded like an insult.

  Luke laughed. “Are they setting up a new trick in there? Some new mission?”

  Halcourt’s refusal to confirm was confirmation enough. “You are aware of the rules. Titled men are not allowed onto these types of missions.”

  “You’re a titled man,” Luke reminded him.

  “I hold a courtesy title from my father. Once I inherit his marquessate, I will retire from this life as well.”

  Luke laughed again. The idea of Halcourt, spymaster extraordinaire, retiring from all of this was, well, laughable.

  “You need to accept this is your new direction in life.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “You can continue on this path and hope the Prince Regent will reconsider, but when has the Prince Regent been known to reconsider anything?”

  Luke knew he had a point. There was a sliver of hope of him regaining his position, but he could not give this up. He’d been embroiled in this life for ten years, since another spy had plucked him from a ship on the coast of France and introduced him to a world he’d never dreamed of. He’d embraced being a spy with everything he had. It had become engrained in him, a part of him he could not just let go.

  The door opened suddenly, Poppins and Martin filing out with curious glances between Luke and Halcourt before shuffling up the stairs to find their own beds for the night.

  Still Luke said nothing, regarding Halcourt with a mixture of displeasure and respect. The man had sent him on countless missions throughout the years. Luke had risked his life for King and Country, and for Halcourt, but this wasn’t the thanks he wanted. He’d never wanted to retire into a life of leisure. As the son and brother of the Dukes of Bradstone, he could have had that all along. He was supposed to die serving the Crown, doing something meaningful with his life. Making a difference.

  Redley came through the doorway, his bulky frame filling the space, his face as familiar to Luke as his own. It had been a clever twist of fate they’d ended up on the same team, assigned to work together. Halcourt insisted he’d never requested them together. Luke hadn’t grown up knowing Redley, despite their parents being siblings, but somehow, they’d been compatible from the onset. Where Luke had cleverness and charm, Redley had strength. Luke’s mastery of languages was matched by Redley’s ability to sneak in and out of any room without detection. Luke could charm the secrets from a mark, but when that proved difficult, Redley could acquire the information in other less delicate ways.

  Redley pinned an inquisitive glance on Luke.

  “Everything is fine,” Luke answered Redley’s unspoken query. “Halcourt is simply reminding me of the change in my circumstances.”

  Redley’s brows rose as he nodded slowly, as if he didn’t believe Luke in the slightest.

  Luke’s gaze shifted from Halcourt to Redley, realizing his attendance at the meeting with Poppins and Martin could only mean one thing.

  “Is he joining them on this mission?” Luke asked, straining to keep the hurt from his voice.

  Halcourt spoke before Redley could give an answer. “I repeat, you are not privy to that information.”

  “Then what can you give me?” Luke demanded. If Redley were reshuffled to another partner, then his hopes for reinstatement would be dimmed even more.

  “With your retirement, Lord Longfield is without a partner. He can decide to retire or request a new partner.”

  Luke turned to Redley. “Retire? Is that something you’re going to consider?” Imagining Redley as anything other than a spy was inconceivable.

  “In the meantime, Lord Longfield is being repurposed. You do not have the courtesy of our government’s clandestine activities, Lord Kenswick. No one will share with you what you are not allowed to know. Do not make any of this more uncomfortable than it needs to be.”

  Rage pulsed through Luke. His hands tightened into painful fists, but he did not move. He didn’t act out and hit Halcourt like he was dying to do. He didn’t retort with a witty comment or an insult-laced set down.

  Instead he shrugged, feigning an air of indifference. He was nothing if not a well-trained operative capable of schooling his features and burying his emotions. He’d done it for years. Pretended nothing mattered. Pretended he didn’t exist. Pretended his role as a government spy meant nothing to him, when nothing could be further from the truth.

  But Redley knew. Redley knew his mind as well as he knew his own. Luke trusted him above all else.

  “You do what you need to do,” Luke said with a smirk and a flippant shrug of his shoulder. “And I’ll do what I need to do.” And before Halcourt could argue further, Luke turned his back and walked swiftly away.

  Chapter Six

  Having taken breakfast alone, Vivian realized the house was eerily silent. It wasn’t the overly-large type of mansion she’d encountered in London, but a modest building that seemed to serve Halcourt’s needs, whatever those were. A scattering of bedrooms, a dining room, a sitting room, the study from the night before and a library.

  Though, calling it a library was a stretch of the word. There were books in the room, but there seemed to be no free space to read. While the walls were covered in books and tomes of varying sizes, the chairs, floors, every flat surface possible was laden with papers, all stacked like columns of a cathedral.

  Vivian did a full spin, taking in the contradiction of relaxing space of leisure and cluttered work environment. Her gaze fell on a large map, covering nearly an entire wall. It was western England, she realized, upon closer inspection. Strings stretched between pins, with papers pinned to the map.

  She traced their journey this far, from her home near the Welsh border south through Bristol to where they now sat outside Bath.

  Her eyes narrowed as something on the map caught her eye, a town name she’d not expected to see. Before she could think further on it, the clearing of a voice came from the doorway.

  With a jump, Vivian spun about to find Redley Ralston watching her. His expression was apologetic, and he opened his mouth to say something, but she stopped him.

  “My apologies, Lord Longfield.” Vivian dipped into a quick curtsy. “I did not see you there.”

  He nodded and stepped closer, the eerie feeling washing over her again. She wanted to like this man, as he was a relation and a friend of Luke’s but there was something she just could not shake.

  “The door was closed,” Vivian admitted. “I shouldn’t have snooped. Do you think Lord Halcourt will be cross with me?”

  Redley’s brows rose, his expression wary as he shrugged as if to say, “Hopefully not?”

  Vivian sighed. She thought as much.

  Redley motioned towards the map.

  “It’s an elaborate map of the area. It’s awfully detailed.”

  Redley nodded.

  “Is Lord Halcourt involved in shipping or exporting goods? I only ask because there seems to be a great amount of attention paid to the barge routes. He has routes all along the river highlighted here.” Vivian pointed to the strings running along the rivers indicated on the maps.

  Redley paused for moment before nodding, and Vivian smiled.

  “I thought as much,” she said. “Though if he would like to transport something from western Wales, the Black Mountains are the least profitable route.”

  Redley nodded, though still said nothing.

  “That is Kenswick Abbey.” Vivian reached up on her toes again to point out her own home in The Marches, where Wales met England. “Where I am from. I see he has a few pins here along the mountain range, and he should know those are not passable routes for anything substantial. And the rivers there cannot sustain anything larger than a canoe.”

  Redley nodded before stepping closer to the map, found a spot and pointed to it, then to himself.

  “Is that your home?
” It was an area along a river, much like this house was, and it wasn’t too far from here.

  Redley nodded and made some hand movement she did not understand.

  “Is it lovely there?” she guessed trying to decipher what he meant, and he shook his head. His hands moved again but she did not understand. With a sigh, he pulled a red leather-bound notebook and lead pencil from his coat pocket and scribed something onto a page before handing her the book.

  She squinted to make out his scrawl. “You’ve atrocious handwriting. Should I like this version?”

  He took the notebook from her again and rewrote one word.

  “Oh, visit. Should I like to visit?”

  He made some movement with his hands, pulling them to his chest.

  “I am welcome to visit?” she guessed again, as his movements did not help.

  He nodded.

  “Oh, yes, that is kind of you,” she said, returning the notebook. “But I believe Kenswick is eager to have us wed in London.”

  He made some other elaborate motions with his hands and Vivian shook her head.

  “It seems unfortunate you are able to understand me, but I have difficulty understanding you.”

  Redley shrugged and looked away.

  Frowning, Vivian looked back at the map spanning the wall of the library.

  “This,” she pointed to the spot that had caught her eye. “This is Wells, correct?”

  Redley nodded. He pointed to her, and then to the spot.

  “I would like to go there. There is a church there, a cathedral. I’ve seen sketches and it is an incredible example of Gothic architecture. It’s the first Gothic cathedral in England, in fact.”

  Redley regarded her with a puzzled expression before tugging out his notebook again and scribbling on the page.

  Vivian glanced at the page and answered “I have an affinity for Gothic architecture. I’ve always dreamed of seeing the cathedral in Wells.”

  Redley made a funny movement with his hands, like the finger shadow puppets she’d done long ago with her brothers, and then pointed out the door.

  “I should ask Kenswick?”

  Redley nodded.

  “I suppose I could, but he was adamant about hastening to London.”

  Redley spread his hands out to indicate the library and his shoulder rose in question.

  Vivian shrugged as well. “I do not know why he detoured us through Bath, though Kenswick claimed it was important.”

  Redley touched his finger to his lips, moving it away to point at the door, shrugging again.

  “Why do I call him Kenswick?”

  Redley nodded.

  “He warned me not to. I suppose I should try and call him Luke.”

  Redley nodded and repeated the talking hand motion, pointing at the door again.

  “You really think he would delay again so we could see the cathedral?”

  Redley nodded adamantly.

  Vivian watched him curiously. “To be honest, Lord Longfield, I do not think I like you.”

  Redley laughed, and the deep sound reverberated off the walls, a broad grin breaking across his face.

  “What I mean to say is, I find I like you, but I do not like that I do. I have no reason not to like you, other than a gut feeling that makes me terrified of you.”

  Redley nodded in understanding.

  “But it seems my husband-to-be trusts you. I am trying to set aside my own fears and trust you as well.”

  Redley scribbled something in his notebook again, tearing out the page and thrusting it into her hands.

  Do not trust blindly, for your mind will often deceive you, but your heart never will. Trust your heart, as it probably knows more than your head will realize.

  “Interesting reading?” came Luke’s voice and Vivian jumped. She glanced about wildly, but Redley was nowhere to be seen.

  “I— I, um,” Vivian stammered, reeling. What on earth was that about?

  “Are you all right?”

  She gave herself a mental shake. “I say, could we make a bit of a detour?”

  “What sort of detour?”

  Vivian pointed at the map. “I’ve been examining Lord Halcourt’s shipping routes on this map, and I’ve realized we are close to Wells Cathedral.” She indicated the spot on the map as Luke leaned closer to see for himself. “It can’t be more than an hour’s drive.”

  Luke shrugged. “We can spare an hour or so out of the way. We’ve already added a day with my visit to Bath.”

  “Thank you.”

  He watched her peculiarly. “You needn’t be worried about asking me for things,” he added. “I’m not likely to say no.”

  “What if I asked for something outrageous? Like twelve puppies, or a castle, or a diamond necklace for every day of the week?”

  Luke grimaced. “Fair enough, keep your requests reasonable and I am likely to oblige.”

  Vivian snickered. “I’d hate for someone to think I’m marrying you for your fortune and titles.”

  Luke smirked. “Try to not appear to be a title hunter then. Though once the repairs are made to said house, I don’t know what fortunes will remain.”

  Vivian’s grin faltered. “Will it really bankrupt you?”

  “Not completely. Though you might have thought of that before you set that stipulation.”

  “Luke, if it’s truly—”

  “It’s not,” he said quickly. “I was simply teasing you.”

  She watched him warily, hoping he was being truthful.

  “Honestly,” he insisted. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

  Vivian shot him a doubtful glance. He was a diplomat, which was simply an extension of the government. Government officials and politicians lied all the time. It was as easy for them as breathing. While she doubted Luke would ever intentionally hurt her, she mistrusted the sincerity of his words. From the tall tales he spun to only seeming to give her half the information, and he took nothing seriously. She doubted much that came out of his mouth was the truth.

  * * *

  Ask me if I am a spy.

  Luke wanted to tell her, had never wanted to divulge all his secrets to someone like he did with her now. And yet, he hesitated.

  She glanced back at the map, and ran the tip of her gloved finger across the lines of red yarn. Her clever eyes took in the lines of Halcourt’s trade routes, the distances between different points. If someone needed an escape route in south western England, this map was the best informant.

  “This map is curious.”

  Ask me, he pleaded with her silently.

  “Halcourt is involved with shipping? He has taken great care with mapping the routes in and out of southwestern England.”

  Her hand fell away from the map and she looked up at him finally.

  Ask me, he begged again, silently willing her to question the map, the lines, what could easily be mistaken as shipping routes, but was clearly much more.

  Her brow rose in question. “Shall we be off?”

  “Off?”

  “To the cathedral in Wells.” Her brow didn’t lower as she regarded him, a curious tilt to her head. “Are you reneging on something you promised mere moments ago?”

  Was it only moments ago? It seemed if he’d been standing here for hours, days, waiting and hoping she would ask just the right question to elicit the complete truth from him. He wanted her to know about his work with the Alien Office, wanted to be able to trust her to keep his secrets beyond all else, but he held back. He didn’t know her well enough. He couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t think him crazy, or run back to Herefordshire in fear.

  “Not at all,” he said with an easy lopsided grin. “Merely waiting for you to finish appraising Halcourt’s map.” He offered his arm and she wrapped her slim, gloved hand around his arm without further comment.

  Their detour to Wells was uneventful, in direct contrast to the day before, which was appreciated. Luke needed a bit of boring to survive the next six months.

  He’d never
heard of Wells Cathedral, as it was often out-shadowed by its much larger brothers, Canterbury, Salisbury and Westminster. But what met them was an incredible sight.

  Golden in the glow of the sun, Wells Cathedral sat amidst a massive green lawn. Two fawn stone towers stretched skyward, adorned with carved statues set into arched alcoves.

  Stepping inside, they were met with the naturally cool air, the stones and angle of the windows keeping the inside temperate. Stone pillars stood strong within the church walls, like white fortifying trunks of trees in a forest of silence that stretched over their heads in a canopy of leafless branches that held the arches of the celling in their place. Golden light cascaded through the windows, reflecting off the cream of the stone and plaster, giving the interior a naturally lit interior.

  “It’s breathtaking.” Vivian’s voice was soft as she glanced at the scene in wonder. “Like sitting amongst an ethereal forest, the arms of the trees stretching up to the heavens.”

  “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

  Vivian glanced at him askance. “It’s my favorite church in all of England.”

  He looked down to her, his eyes twitching in humor. “Have you been here before?”

  “No,” she admitted. “But I am fond of Gothic architecture.” She looked back down the rows of pews. “The ceilings are vaulted, see? And the fluted columns? It was designed to represent a glimpse into heaven.” It was a bright day and the room was filled with a glow, the light pulling his gaze upwards. Sun shone through the stained glass, casting colors across the floors.

  “It is lovely.”

  “Construction began in the twelfth century,” Vivian explained and rattled off intricate details about the bishops involved in the designs. She talked about the slimmer columns and higher arches, and how the simple Gothic structure came to be.

  “The best part is the crossed arches there in the middle of the church.” She pointed towards the center. At the intersection of the sanctuary and the choir, a set of crisscrossed arches were featured, marking a curved X with two circles on either side of where the lines met. “It’s completely unique. No other church in the world has such a design. The design adds to the stability of the tower and gives the archways strength.”