Too Hot for a Spy Read online

  Sebastian strode down the hall from the opposite direction, his brows knit together as if sewn fast by an invisible weaver. His thoughts were filled with disgust over his disastrous meeting with the home secretary. Sidmouth was a stubborn man who was afflicted, like so many men in power, with an inability to entertain any opposing point of view.

  Caught in the web of his anger, he turned the corner and collided with a clerk whose arms were full of folders. The woman went sprawling and the folders flew all over the floor in hopeless disorder.

  “Oof!”

  “Why don’t you look where you’re going?” Sebastian spat out, taking his fury out on the poor clerk.

  “Why don’t you look where you’re going yourself, you miserable…excuse for a man?” Olivia challenged without so much as a glance. She scrambled to her knees and gathered the file folders. Drat! She would have to stay late to put them all back in proper order. She’d also be late for dinner, and what a state that would put her father in. Her cap had flown off, releasing a riot of blond curls.

  “I’ll send for help if you need some.”

  “No! And don’t you dare tell anyone about this.”

  “As you wish.” He held his hands up in surrender, but she was too absorbed in gathering papers to notice. He couldn’t see her face, since her hair covered most of it. Indeed, he wondered how she could see anything at all with that unruly mop. He began to walk away, but glanced back in time to see her hitch her gown up as she bent to the task.

  The sight of her enticing derriere, outlined through her thin chemise, was the only bright spot of his wretched afternoon. If she weren’t a mere clerk afraid of being sacked, he might just be able to relieve both his gloom and his growing hardness in some nearby broom closet, but it was not to be. He suppressed the bitter laugh that threatened to escape his lips. Without another backward glance, the spymaster continued on his way.

  “A letter for you, milady,” said Dunston. “Hand-delivered early this afternoon along with instructions to deliver it to no one else but you.”

  “Thank you, Dunston. I haven’t any time to read it now. As you see, I’m already late for dinner. Please leave it on my desk.” She rushed into the dining room.

  “Forgive me everyone. I was unavoidably detained at the home office.”

  “Father is very angry with you, Livy,” said eight-year-old Jane, understating the duke’s sentiments by several degrees. The chubby child had a round, cherubic face. Freckles danced up to her green eyes, her red hair plaited with ribbons. She reached for another sweetmeat.

  “Be silent, Jane, before you find yourself banished to the schoolroom when the family dines alone.” Though he made every effort, the duke could not bring himself to love his youngest daughter.

  At fifty-six years of age, he retained his good looks but for the hair graying at his temples and his faded blue eyes. Even so, the family resemblance between him and his eldest daughter was remarkable. He turned his attention back to her. “You’re late again, Livy.”

  “I beg your pardon, Father. Forgive me, but it was vital that I finish my work before I left the office.”

  “Saved the empire from invasion this day, did you?”

  She ignored his sarcasm. Instead, she looked around at her mother and her sisters, and realized all eyes were upon her. She allowed the footman to fill her plate with beef and vegetables, and summoned another to fill her wineglass.

  “My apologies for being late, Mother. I should have been home in time, but for a foolish accident. You see…”

  “Run over by a mail cart, were you?” The duke’s snide remark stung his intended target.

  Olivia glared at him and emptied her wineglass in one swallow. “No, Father. I was putting away important papers, my last task of the day, when this strange man came barreling round the corner of the hall and knocked me down. I went sprawling and so did my day’s work. I was forced to stay late to sort them all out again, you see.”

  “Serves you right,” he grumbled, but that brought a warning look from his wife.

  The duchess, a celebrated beauty in her youth, could still turn heads. Only fifty, she looked far younger than her years. Her eyes were slightly slanted, almost black, like two obsidians. Helena resembled her mother most closely, having the same hair color, the same eyes and the same height.

  “Were you hurt, dear?” asked the duchess in a soothing tone.

  “Thank you for inquiring, Mother. No. Not at all.”

  “Did the fellow at least help you up, Livy?” asked Georgiana, fast becoming the loveliest of the Fairchild sisters. Already the young bucks in Hyde Park stopped to stare at the sixteen-year-old beauty with the raven hair, sparkling blue eyes and a charming dimple on her chin.

  “He did ask, Georgie, but I’m convinced he didn’t mean it. He just kept walking when he spoke. The man was an utter boor.”

  “Who was he?” asked Mary. At fourteen, she was a tall, gangly girl who had her father’s coloring without his harshness. Mary’s blue eyes were softened as it were by having inherited her mother’s warm eyes. The shy child spent her days engrossed in her music, for she dearly loved to play the pianoforte.

  “I haven’t the faintest notion, Mary. I never even saw his face.”

  “Livy,” interrupted her father in a familiar tone, the one that usually preceded a lecture. Rather than argue, she tilted her head and gave him a warm smile. “Your forbidding tone hints at more disapproval, dearest. What else have I done to displease you?”

  “Work.” He spat the word out as if it were a curse. “How many times must I tell you that a well-born lady does not work. Why must you persist in this charade? I’d hoped that, after these first few weeks, you would have gotten it out of your system. It won’t do, I tell you. It won’t do.” He peered at her over the rim of his wine goblet. “Well? Have you no answer?”

  Her sisters sat quietly, their heads swinging from father to daughter as if they were watching a tennis match.

  Before she could respond, the duchess came to Olivia’s aid. “Livy has every right to pursue her own interests, my lord. If she’s happy, that’s all that matters.”

  Olivia curbed a gurgle of laughter and fixed her eyes on her plate, knowing full well that her mother would win the day for her.

  But the duke refused to give an inch. He glared at his daughter. “You’re wasting your time in an office full of common clerks and scribes. You can’t fool me, Olivia. I know the sort of work done in that office.”

  “Have you been spying on me, Father?”

  He ignored her question. “The fact is, your mother and I are concerned for your future. We want you to marry and raise a family of your own. Find a respectable purpose to your life. It isn’t as if you don’t have suitors, you know.”

  “Your choices, Father. Not mine. Percy is sweet, but he’s a dead bore. And where, pray, did you dig up dear old Lord Wentworth? A contemporary of yours, is he? He ruined my shoes because he couldn’t see his feet over his enormous stomach. No, Father. Neither of your choices is acceptable to me. I may marry some day, but for now, I prefer to distinguish myself in my chosen career.”

  “You are fit for nothing better than clerking. Do you call that a career?”

  A mysterious smile stole across Olivia’s face. “You’d be surprised, Father. You’d be surprised.”

  “Enough, you two,” said her mother as she rose from the table. “Come, girls. We’ll leave your father to his brandy and cigar and await him in the drawing room.” She glared at her husband and added, “Where I trust civility will reign. There will be no more of this distressful conversation.”

  As was customary, Mary played the pianoforte while Georgiana turned the pages for her. Helena held a skein of silk spread taut between two hands while Olivia separated the colors for their mother. Her Grace occupied herself with her needlepoint, at the same time keeping a sharp eye on Jane. The child had an overactive sweet tooth and was much in need of supervision if she were not to grow from chubby to obese. />
  By the time His Grace joined the family in the drawing room, calm had been restored, just as the duchess had ordered. It stayed that way, for the duke knew enough to surrender to his wife’s rare, but ominous warnings. He settled into his favorite chair by the fire and engaged in a child’s card game of casino with Jane.

  At eight, the children’s governess, Mrs. Trumball, came to escort Georgiana, Mary and Jane to bed. When the clock struck ten, Her Grace rose and said, “Time we were all in bed. Goodnight, children.”

  Olivia’s abigail prepared her for bed, but Olivia had no thought of sleep. She dismissed Nancy as soon as she was able and hurried to her desk to read the letter Dunston had placed there. She broke the seal and read the official heading: OFFICE OF THE HOME SECRETARY. The letter itself was brief.

  “You have been accepted into our new program.

  Be prepared to leave for training in one week.

  You will be notified as to time and date.”

  It was signed by Viscount Sidmouth.

  Olivia clutched the letter in both hands, her heart beating fast. Had she really succeeded in her quest? Yes! She tiptoed down the hall to her sister Helena’s chamber.

  “Are you awake?”

  “Of course I am, Livy. Do come in,” Helena’s abigail Amy was busy brushing her hair. When she waved her hand, the young woman put down the brush and disappeared.

  “I was expecting you. You had that troubled frown all evening. It quite gives you away, you know. Not seemly for a would-be spy.” Her sister rose from her dressing table, moved to the divan and patted it. “Anything the matter?”

  Olivia settled next to Helena and thrust the letter into her hand. “Read this.”

  Helena took the letter from her. She looked up when she finished, and said, “Livy! You’ve been accepted! I’m so proud of you.”

  “I wish I knew where the training academy was. I’ve never been able to find out, no matter how much I poked through the files.” Tiny rivers of tears rolled down Olivia’s cheeks.

  “What’s wrong? Spies aren’t supposed to weep, Livy. Here. Wipe your tears.”

  Olivia took her sister’s handkerchief and did as she was told. “I want so much to succeed, Helena.”

  “You can’t mean you are afraid you might fail?”

  “I’d be a fool not to face that possibility. But I’m determined to succeed. I don’t want to live a life of boredom, merely attending balls and routs and picnics and raising children and…”

  Helena smiled. “You’ve made your point, my dear.”

  “I want to travel the world. I want adventures.”

  Helena clasped her sister’s hands in hers. “Then by all means, follow your dream, Livy.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  “You’ve been accepted. That’s an excellent start and you should be jumping for joy instead of wallowing in tears. What’s troubling you?”

  “How am I to be ready in a week? And how shall I keep it from Mother and Father?”

  Helena considered this. “You can’t keep it from them, Livy. I’d advise you to go and tell them at once.”

  Olivia’s spirits sank. “Must I?”

  “It would be too shabby of you if you didn’t tell them. Be brave and don’t allow Father to bully you.”

  “You’re right, of course. I’ll go to them at once.” She kissed her sister on the cheek and padded down the stairs to her parents’ suite of rooms.

  When she knocked on the door and entered, she glanced around the comfortable room. “Where’s Father? I had hoped to talk to you together.”

  “He’s in the library, dear.”

  “I need to speak to you both. It’s important, Mother.”

  “Shall I send for him?”

  “Yes, do please. You may read this while we wait for him.”

  It didn’t take long for the duke to respond to the unusual summons. He took in the scene—his wife looking bleak, holding a letter, his daughter’s head bowed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Without a word, the duchess handed him the letter. He read it quickly and looked up. “No need to get yourself into a pet, my dear. Livy will of course refuse the invitation and that will be the end of that.”

  “I have no intention of refusing, Father.” Olivia spoke in a sober voice. She rose and took the letter from his hand. “You know perfectly well that I want this too much to give it up. I’ve made no secret of the fact that I wish to become an intelligence agent. Know this. If I didn’t have your consent, it would make me unhappy, for I love you very much, but I shall proceed nevertheless. Can you not see your way clear to giving me your blessings in this endeavor?” Olivia directed this question to her father.

  “Damned if I will, you disobedient child!” the duke said bitterly.

  “Leave us, Livy dearest,” said her mother. “I wish to discuss this news in private with your father.”

  “Of course, Mother.” She hugged her mother, but when she tried to hug her father, he turned away, his face twisted in anger.

  Olivia spent a sleepless night in misery for having caused her parents such pain. She knew in her heart she would not give up her right to realize her ambition. In time, they would accept her decision, for deep down, she knew her parents loved their firstborn child.

  When her abigail woke her, she said, “His Grace wants to speak to you before you leave, milady.”

  Now what, she thought, weary of quarreling. She dressed, took two sips of chocolate and went in search of him. She found him in the breakfast room reading the paper and drinking his coffee, his eggs untouched. She went to the head of the table and kissed him on the cheek.

  Olivia took a seat by his side and said, “You asked to see me, Father? I’m not going to work today. I never do on Sunday.”

  Her heart thudded when he put the paper down and looked at her, for his face was drawn. It was as if he had grown ten years overnight.

  “This dream of yours? I have only myself to thank,” he confessed, his voice laced with bitterness. “I’ll never forgive myself for treating you like the son I wanted when you were born. It was I who taught you how to ride like a man. It was I who taught you how to hunt and to shoot. It was I who taught you how to swim. It was I who…”

  “Oh, Father,” she cried, and fell on her knees before him. “Don’t you know how proud I am to be your daughter? Only let me do this with your blessing and I’ll make you proud in return. I must seize this opportunity. Can’t you see that?”

  She heard him blow his nose. At the same time, his hand patted her head and she felt a glimmer of hope.

  “I haven’t much choice, have I, puss? We don’t want to lose you, Livy. It would break your mother’s heart and I won’t have her hurt. We have agreed that you may go with our blessings, but I can’t bear to be here to see you off. Your mother and I have decided to leave for Brighton tomorrow with Georgie, Mary and Jane. Your brother Edward is coming home today from Oxford and he will chaperone you and Helena. They’ll join us at Heatham after you leave.”

  “You can’t know how much this means to me, Father,” she said in a humble voice.

  “Edward our chaperone? Imagine that,” said Helena in wry good humor when she heard the news. She rolled her eyes and that made Olivia laugh. “Brother Edward won’t care a fig for what we do. He’s bringing his friend Madison with him so they can practice their skills in curricle racing in Hyde Park.”

  “Father’s approval is such good news for me, Helena, don’t you think?”

  “I couldn’t agree more. Do you have a plan yet? If not, I think that, after our parents leave, we’ll have a week left to get you ready.”

  “Oh, yes. That would be perfect. First off, you must help me shop for the proper attire. Do you think our modistes can have everything ready in one week? No matter. What they can’t finish might be sent to me.” She hesitated, a quizzical look on her face. “What do spies wear, do you suppose?”

  Helena giggled. “Certainly not ball gowns, you ninny. I
would guess you’ll need riding clothes, sturdy shoes, warm sweaters and coats, walking skirts…”

  Olivia made a face. “Sounds a little dull.”

  “Keep focused on the goal, Livy. Not on a fancy ward robe.”

  Olivia sighed and laid her head on her sister’s shoulder.

  “What is it, dear?”

  “I’ll miss you, Helena.”

  “You can always write.”

  Chapter Three

  Wilson Academy—Sunday, The Thirtieth of June

  When Sir Abercrombie Wilson died without an heir, his will deeded his property to the Crown. This patriotic gift was never used during England’s Napoleonic Wars. But afterwards, when the deed came to his attention, the home secretary maneuvered Parliament into handing it over to the home office and providing funds for the renovation of the property.

  Sir Sebastian Brooks, a war hero, sold out to accept the post of chief spymaster, and at once set about converting the mansion into a training center, named Wilson Academy. To the uninitiated, the property appeared to have undergone little change, causing locals no undue alarm. Indeed, none but those in the highest echelons of government knew the real purpose of the academy.

  Located near enough to London for ease of communication with the home office, the academy lay hidden within some sixteen hundred acres of land. Havelshire, a small parish surrounded by rolling hills and well-tended tracts of farmland was the village nearest to the academy. And though the townsfolk did not know what took place behind the small forest of trees and high hedges that surrounded it, they were happy to supply its inhabitants with ample mutton and fresh produce. What the farmers were left with was transported to London for sale in the open markets.