to decipher Jeffrey’s words. But like the last hundred times, chunks of legible phrases were broken up by a series of meaningless words.
With impatient fingers, she refolded the note and jammed it on top of the others. She tossed the packet into the secret compartment and moved to close it.
“Mama, are you ready?”
Catherine pivoted to find Sophie standing in her bedchamber’s doorway, flushed and unkempt.
“Not yet, dear,” she said. “I thought you were headed down to the lake with Edward.”
“I wanted to bring my little wooden boat.” She held up one of the first figures Jeffrey had carved for Castle Dragonthorpe.
“Be careful not to lose it.”
“Yes, Mama.” Sophie’s blue eyes settled on the writing box briefly. “I’ll see you at the lake.”
“I won’t be but ten minutes behind you.”
Sophie smiled. “Enough time for me to catch the biggest fish.” Then she was gone.
Catherine laughed and turned to close the secret compartment on the writing desk. She smoothed her fingers over the fine grain, contemplating her meeting with the earl after Sunday services. Once she handed the letters over to Lord Somerton, she hoped he would soon be able to answer all of her questions.
An exhilarating trepidation coursed through her blood. And God help her, she looked forward to seeing the earl again. She became aware while near him. Aware of her heartbeat, aware of her flushed cheeks. And aware of the ache between her legs. All of these sensations had been denied her for so long, she had nearly forgotten they existed.
Her fingers found the buttons on her riding jacket, and she began unfastening them. Jeffrey might not have desired her, but she hadn’t mistaken the glimmer of interest in the earl’s eyes.
Remembrance alone was enough to send a pulse of heat through her body. She would hold onto the heat and the memory of the earl’s silvery eyes until Sunday, the day she would become a spy.
Four
August 10
Sebastian Danvers tipped back the last of his brandy, his mood blacker than the cheerless moon outside his library window. Alone with his own thoughts, his mind had inevitably focused on Lord Latymer’s scheme with the French to have him assassinated. From the moment he’d learned of his friend’s treachery, Sebastian’s well-crafted plans to put an end to Napoleon’s dictatorship had splintered into a thousand useless fragments.
Latymer’s deception had come close to crippling the Nexus beyond redemption. Had the French succeeded in killing him a fortnight ago, his agents would have been operating blind, placing them and England in jeopardy. The safeguards he’d put in place long ago would have bought them all a little time, but not much.
All his attention to detail had still not protected his wards, and as a result, both had come close to losing their lives in a recent skirmish with a depraved Frenchman. Sebastian had never married and had no intention of doing so; therefore, Cora and Ethan were the closest he would ever come to being a father. Even with them, his role was more mentor than parent.
Unfortunately, Latymer’s treachery was not the worst complication of Sebastian’s last mission. The former under-superintendent’s subsequent, and rather convenient, escape forced the Alien Office to turn its suspicious eye on Sebastian. He was officially unofficially placed on leave. Relegated to the country like some recalcitrant child while the new Superintendent of Aliens sifted through his confidential files for signs of sedition.
Gritting his teeth, he strolled back to the brandy decanter and poured another healthy measure into his glass. A man in his position did not surrender over a decade’s worth of clandestine operation files without experiencing a degree of gut-churning dread.
Sebastian turned to stare at the single sheet of paper resting on the small writing desk. The damned thing had kept him pacing long into the night. Before he’d left London, Superintendent Reeves had demanded a list of names, precious names. His agents’ names. Sebastian had protected his operatives for years by never revealing their identities. Not to his superiors, nor to other operatives. Everyone used code names to protect them and their families.
Thank God for his foresight. Had he shared their identities and current locations with Latymer, they would all likely be dead now. But the combination of Reeves’s request and Sebastian’s brush with death gnawed at his conscience. For the first time, he began to question his decision to not share his agents’ information with a select few at the Alien Office.
What if his safeguards failed? What would become of those he had protected with his