Once Upon a Spy: A Secrets and Seduction Book

by Sheridan Jeane

  “Hmm,” Frederick replied, sounding more annoyed than convinced. “In that case, it would be best for you to focus on recalling where you’ve seen the woman before. I think we should separate and pursue this problem from different angles. You go after the girl while I focus on the people I believe are behind the—” he glanced at Josephine “— the incident.”

  “You should be resting,” she interjected.

  Frederick let out a sigh. “Josephine, I must confess more is taking place tonight than is apparent. If you’ll refrain from asking questions for the moment, I’ll do my best to explain everything later.”

  “Of course ‘more is taking place,’” she said. “I assume it has something to do with your work for the Foreign Office. Is that why you were at the embassy tonight? To spy on the Russians?” When Frederick’s jaw dropped, she let a slow smile spread across her face. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll never repeat a word. I’m quite discreet.”

  “How— how long have you known about my work?” Frederick asked.

  “Oh, my. It’s been quite some time now.” She tapped her gloved index finger against her lower lip. “At least a year. Perhaps a bit more.”

  “And you never said anything to me?”

  “I didn’t want to intrude,” she said, holding up her hands as if absolving herself of involvement. “I assumed you’d tell me eventually, but since tonight’s situation appears to be a pressing one, I decided to reveal what I know.” She gave Robert a commiserating look. “I’m guessing the two of you were forced to improvise after Lord Percival’s fire. That must have been a challenge.”

  Frederick let out a sigh of exasperation. “If you knew all of that, why did you follow me upstairs?”

  “I am sorry about that. I didn’t realize you must have been on an assignment until later. I’d make a terrible spy, wouldn’t I? I never considered that I might one day stumble across you while you were on a mission. I always imagined those sorts of tasks taking place in dark, scurrilous places.”

  Frederick gestured for her to stop. “I really must speak candidly with my brother. I’d rather not involve you in this any further. It’s safer for you if you don’t know anything. We’ll stop the carriage so he and I can walk for a moment.”

  “Fiddlesticks. I’m involved already. And you must know I’d never betray you. I never said a word about what happened last year with Lord and Lady Huntley, did I? And I never will. Nor will I repeat anything you say in front of me now. Pretend I’m not here.”

  Frederick remained silent.

  “You already trust her,” Robert said, noting the casual way their shoulders brushed against each other, “otherwise she wouldn’t be in the carriage with us. You’d never have permitted it.”

  Frederick met Josephine’s gaze. “Trust isn’t the issue,” he said, stroking the back of his left hand against her cloak in an unconsciously possessive gesture. “I want to protect you from this part of my life, not drag you into it. But you’re right. I’ve already involved you in this. Too many people saw us leave together.”

  “I can take care of myself,” she insisted. “I’ve been doing so for the past two years.”

  Ever since she’d become a widow, Robert realized.

  Frederick’s jaw tensed, but after a long pause, he nodded. “Letting you listen won’t put you at any greater risk.”

  Frederick closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. A moment later, he blinked them open and focused his gaze on Robert. “I’ve been considering who might have taken the book. Obviously we didn’t do it, nor did the Russians. The only logical alternative is the French. I considered the Ottomans, but I’ve ruled them out. Their involvement is highly unlikely.”

  “But aren’t we allies with the French? Why would they steal it from me?”

  “The situation is complex. With so many pieces in play on the board, it can be challenging to predict the next move.” Frederick let out a deep sigh of frustration. “If I’m right and the French are behind the theft, I think I may know the identity of the man who orchestrated tonight’s debacle. You mentioned she had a key. This man is one of the few people who would have been able to acquire one. By my calculations, he’s the only other player with the skills and connections to have choreographed tonight’s events. Your little thief will probably pass the church register to him as soon as possible. I know where he lives. If I can catch him at home, I can watch him until she shows herself. As soon as she makes contact, I’ll grab the book.”

  Robert nodded. “It’s a solid plan, as long as you’re certain you know who her contact will be.”

  “That’s the problem. This is my best guess, but since I’m missing key facts, I could be wrong. That’s why I want you to try to locate the woman using your own methods. If we attack the problem from two different directions, we have a better chance of succeeding.”

  “I don’t like this,” Josephine interjected. “I know I promised you wouldn’t know I was here, but I can’t remain silent. You’re injured, you’re tired, and you’ve been drinking. You shouldn’t go haring off alone in the dark after some thief.”

  “I have no choice. You don’t understand the severity of the situation we’re facing. It’s imperative we recover the book. Everything depends upon it.”

  “Not without my help,” she insisted. When Frederick opened his mouth to protest, she held up her hand to silence him and continued speaking. “I’ll accompany you. Don’t worry about my reputation. As I already pointed out, I’m a widow, so no one bothers about that sort of thing where I’m concerned. I refuse to allow you to do this alone. It’s obvious you and your brother need to separate, so I’m the only person who can help you.”

  Robert pulled his gaze away from the dark shadows of Hyde Park and faced his brother. “I like the plan.” He glanced at Josephine, and she shot him a look of gratitude. He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “The book is too important to allow anything to get in the way. Recovering it has to be our priority.”

  “I know this will come as a surprise to both of you, but I like the plan too,” Frederick said. “Thank you for your generous offer, Josephine.”

  Her delighted smile lit her face.

  Frederick’s intense brown eyes bored into Robert’s. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you want to do this. I like seeing you commit to something.”

  Robert flexed his jaw and trained his gaze on the handle of his cane, rubbing his palm against it. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it isn’t a permanent change in my character. I’m firmly committed to remaining unencumbered by other people’s problems.”

  “You’re brilliant when you put your mind to a task, Robert. Stop trying to hide it from the world.”

  “And that whiskey has given you a soft head.” Suddenly, Robert found the interior of the carriage to be stifling. He couldn’t bear to sit there any longer. He needed to act. To move. To put the plan into action.

  Just past Hyde Park, Robert banged his cane on the ceiling of the carriage to get the driver’s attention.

  “What are you doing?” Frederick asked.

  “There’s no need for me to return home with you. I need to remember where I saw that woman, and I’ll think better if I’m walking.”

  The coachman pulled the horses to a halt at the street corner and Robert jumped out, snapping the door shut behind him. The frigid night air hit his face and immediately soothed some of his tension.

  “Take them home,” Robert called up to Crupper, his driver, “and remain at their disposal for the evening.”

  Crupper nodded and urged the matched pair of bays into the night.

  Robert glanced up and down the road and then strode toward a bustling cross street in the distance. He needed to be around people. Perhaps something would spur his memory and help him identify Copper-Eyes.

  What chance did he really have, though? His steps faltered for a moment, but then he forged onward. He’d walk all night if he had to. He had no other alternative. He must remember where h
e’d seen the woman.

  Failure was too terrible to contemplate.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Our deeds disguise us. People need endless time to try on their deeds, until each knows the proper deeds for him to do. But every day, every hour, rushes by. There is no time.

  - John Locke

  Robert concentrated on recalling every detail about the sweet-faced thief in the silvery-gray dress. Her gestures. Her words. Her figure and form. The sound of her voice. Even her gait.

  He found her entrancing— and achingly familiar. He’d seen her before— but where? No matter how hard he tried, her identity eluded him.

  As he replayed the evening’s events, his anger grew, both with himself and with her. He couldn’t place the blame on Copper-Eyes’s shoulders— that book had been his responsibility. If he hadn’t been so gullible, she never would have deceived him— betrayed him.

  The footman hadn’t been guarding the staircase and foyer when he’d first left the ambassador’s suite. If he’d ignored her and simply walked down the stairs, he could have returned to the ball with the church register in his possession and no one would have been the wiser. They could have been delivering the book into the Queen’s hands even now.

  War. The word sent a cold chill down his spine. If Frederick was right, lives would be lost now because of that single moment of distraction.

  She’d been devilishly distracting, too. Could anyone else have tempted him so? He recalled holding Copper-Eyes in his arms— the pleasure of having her small, lithe body pressed against his. He shook his head, forcibly wrenching his thoughts away from the memory. He couldn’t think about her that way. Not when British lives were at stake.

  He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on thoughts of self-recrimination, either. They would get him nowhere. He needed to find her if he wanted to find a way out of this quagmire, and once he did, he’d know better than to trust her again. That is, if he ever remembered where he’d seen her.

  As he came to each intersection in the streets of London, he chose the path more crowded with pedestrians. He needed to surround himself with faces and voices, because eventually, something he saw or heard would trigger his faint recollection of her identity. Where had he seen her before? Where?

  He noticed a crush of people just ahead, and glanced around for a landmark. Where was he?

  He quickly realized he’d walked through Piccadilly Circus without taking note of his surroundings. He’d managed to wander all the way to the theater district and still hadn’t remembered where he’d seen Copper-Eyes.

  Posters, both old and new, dotted the sides of the buildings in the vicinity. Entertainments of every variety abounded. Operas, magicians, concerts, plays— even a circus. The bright splashes of color on the notices vied for his attention, but the overall effect was that of a cacophony for the eye. Rather than trying to focus on a single element in the flurry of images, he simply accepted them as a whole. But from the midst of the riot of color, an old and tattered poster of the tragic clown from Rigoletto captured Robert’s attention.

  Why?

  He stepped closer to it. Was it something within the image, or simply the movement of the ripped edge of the notice? He stared at it, searching for a clue. It niggled at his mind, as though the solution to his problem lay right there in front of him, but it refused to come into focus.

  With a sigh, Robert moved on, gazing ahead at the throng of theatergoers arriving for their various shows.

  He stopped.

  Theater, not opera— that was it. He’d seen her, or someone just like her, on one of the theater notices. But which one?

  It came to him in a flash. He’d seen Copper-Eyes in a poster for the play Anne Blake. He was certain of it.

  Had the image on the poster simply been a coincidence? What if the artist who created it had simply drawn the face of a woman who looked similar to Copper-Eyes? But it had looked too much like her. It had to be the same woman.

  Robert pushed his way through the bustling crowd, making his way toward Haymarket Theatre. People were streaming inside, passing the six columns of its classical facade.

  Robert stood in the queue at the ticket office to purchase a seat for the evening’s performance and gazed at her poster, staring into those eyes that were now so familiar to him. He found her name in bold letters. Antonia Winter.

  The small, slim clerk manning the counter raked his gaze over Robert’s formal evening attire. “Sorry, sir, but we don’t have any seats left in the upper circle. There are a few left down in the pit, but I doubt you’ll want to sit there.”

  Robert placed some coins on the counter. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll take one.”

  The man shrugged and slid a single ticket to him.

  Robert nodded, picked it up, and turned away.

  “Your change, sir?”

  “Keep it,” he said over his shoulder.

  Ticket in hand, he hurried toward the doors. He stood out among the other theatergoers on this level, not only because of his height, but also his formal attire. Few wore the elaborate evening attire that was the norm upstairs in the private boxes.

  He held out the ticket to the gray-haired ticket-taker and then paused. Did this even make sense? How could Copper-Eyes possibly have made the trip to the theater quickly enough to be on stage after stealing the book?

  Robert pulled the ticket back and turned away. This had been a foolish mistake. His time would be better spent continuing his search for her.

  The elderly ticket-taker noticed his movement. “Sir,” he called out, “if you’re concerned Miss Winter won’t be performing tonight, you can put your mind at ease. She’ll be on stage after all.”

  Robert spun around to face the man. “She’s here? And she’s late?”

  “Yes, sir. She was delayed, but I just got word. She’ll go on, right enough.”

  “Will she then?” Robert grinned as he handed the helpful man his ticket. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how pleased I am to hear the news.”

  “Enjoy the show,” the usher said, tucking the ticket stub inside a playbill and handing it to Robert.

  As Robert moved down the crowded aisle, he searched for his seat. He located it quickly enough. It wasn’t a very good one, and his view was partially obstructed by a pillar, but he could still see most of the stage. He raised his gaze higher to examine the upper circle of seats and recognized a few members of society relaxing in the balconies.

  When Robert’s gaze landed on his friend Daniel, Marquess of Huntley, their eyes locked. Robert had the impression his friend was relieved to have finally caught his attention. The intensity in Daniel’s expression made Robert pause. Daniel must have been observing him for a while. He motioned for Robert to join him in the balcony. Daniel leaned toward his wife, Catherine, and murmured something while gesturing toward Robert. Catherine’s worried expression deepened, and Robert’s internal alarm bells started ringing.

  Something was wrong, and whatever it was made Lord and Lady Huntley uneasy.

  Robert left his seat and took the stairs two at a time to the upper balcony. He located their box and slipped through the door, closing it behind him. There were four chairs on the private balcony, but only Daniel and Catherine were there. Based on the way her dress now rounded over her belly, they’d be hosting a baptism celebration in a few months.

  Robert scanned the other boxes and noticed that quite a few members of society watched him as he greeted his friends. This wasn’t the place for a clandestine meeting if that’s what Daniel had in mind. His presence here would probably be remarked upon tomorrow in any number of London’s many newspapers.

  “Wentworth. It’s good to see you,” Daniel said, clapping him on the back. His joviality seemed forced, but Robert knew how to play his part and responded with appropriate enthusiasm.

  Robert greeted Lady Catherine. “You look more radiant every time I see you.”

  “I believe you can thank Daniel for that,” she replied, casting her husband a playful
look.

  “I’m simply trying to keep you happy and healthy.” He pulled her closer to his side and grinned at Robert. “We’ve been working on keeping up her exercise regimen, but she’s had to modify it since—” Daniel broke off and cleared his throat.

  Robert understood. Of course, Daniel meant that she’d curtailed her activities due to her pregnancy. Not that a gentlemen would speak of such things in mixed company. What a ridiculous notion, to dance around her pregnancy as though it didn’t exist. Or even worse, to behave as though pregnancy was somehow an embarrassment rather than a cause for joy. It was even more ludicrous since the evidence was right there before their eyes. But that was the way of things.

  “Whatever you’re doing seems to be working,” Robert said. Catherine blushed at that, and Robert pretended not to notice.

  “Sit,” Daniel said. Once they were settled, he spoke in a lower voice. “You were at the Russian embassy tonight?”

  Robert stiffened. “Yes. I attended the ball.”

  Daniel nodded. “Something was stolen. It’s as though someone poked a Russian ant hill with a great big stick. I don’t know what was taken, but the Russians are desperate to get it back. They have men crawling all over town and tracking down everyone who left before the theft was discovered.”

  “They’re looking for me?”

  Daniel nodded. “You seem to be at the top of their list.”

  “How do you know about this?”

  “They came swarming though the Ambridge Club not long ago. I stopped by to collect something on the way here, otherwise I wouldn’t have known. The Russians wanted to locate you in particular.”

  Robert jutted out his lower lip in a frown as he considered the information. “That’s not good.”

  “But what I don’t understand is why you’ve come to Haymarket.”

  “It was a last-minute decision,” Robert mumbled, not wanting to draw Daniel into this fiasco.

  “The Russians are hunting you, and you suddenly had the urge to see a play?”

  “In a manner of speaking. Actually, I need to see an actress.”