Once Upon a Spy: A Secrets and Seduction Book

by Sheridan Jeane

  Mrs. Hill’s angry gaze didn’t waver.

  Antonia took a hasty step back from the harridan and ran directly into Robert. She stumbled. He wrapped his arm around her waist, barely keeping her from falling.

  “Humph.” Mrs. Hill’s upper lip curled as she glared at Robert’s encircling arm. “You have an odd way of showing it. Have some decorum, young lady.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Hill.” Antonia shrank away from Robert while keeping an eye on Mrs. Hill. She gave him a wide berth as she moved toward the door. She needed to make herself scarce before Mrs. Hill lost her temper entirely and evicted her. “If you’ll excuse us, we’ll leave you to your tea. Lord Wentworth was about to take his leave.”

  Mrs. Hill stared hard at her teapot, but Antonia could see her hand tremble as she reached for it.

  As Antonia stepped out of the drawing room, she crushed her eyes shut, a chill wave of relief flooding her. That had been entirely too close. She’d nearly lost her room. And for what? Robert had had no more than a momentary glimpse of a man. A man who couldn’t possibly have tracked her here. How could she have let herself be swayed so easily when logic told her he had to be mistaken?

  Was she really so weak? So easily swayed by a few kind words? Was she that desperate to win his approval and give herself over to another person?

  She didn’t want to lose herself in another person. She already knew the devastation brought on when people left and everything changed.

  She was better off alone. Safer.

  It wasn’t until Antonia slid the drawing room doors closed, creating a solid barrier between herself and Mrs. Hill, that she was able to breathe again.

  Robert seized her hand and drew her closer, speaking in hushed, urgent tones. “You need to move out. It’s the prudent thing to do.”

  Antonia’s mouth dropped open, and she snatched her hand from his grasp. “You can’t be serious. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to find a respectable establishment? One that would accept a single woman working as an actress? The only reason I’m here is because Mrs. Hill is my governess’s sister. Leaving isn't an option.” She thrust the ludicrous cane back into the umbrella stand with a loud thump.

  “Your safety is of utmost importance.” Robert seemed to radiate authority, and Antonia found his attitude immensely irritating. Who was he to make pronouncements and give orders?

  “I’m entirely safe here,” she said, using the icy tone she reserved for her most persistent and annoying admirers. How dare Robert march into her life and try to rule it? Did he think he owned her because he knew her secrets? Did he believe he now had power over her? “There’s no need to be so heavy-handed with me. I’ve been taking care of myself for nearly a year now, and I’m managing quite well. You’re overreacting, Lord Wentworth. You already admitted you might have been mistaken. If I found any proof supporting your claim that someone tracked me down, I wouldn’t hesitate to leave, but that isn’t the case, is it?”

  Robert jerked his head back as though she’d sprouted thorns. The muscles along his jawline bulged. “My apologies, Miss Winter. I clearly overstepped.”

  “Clearly.”

  He snatched up his hat from a rack near the door. As he settled it in place, he glanced back at her. “I hope that despite my heavy-handedness, you’ll not dismiss the possible threat to your safety. Please be careful.”

  He stared at her until she gave him a curt nod, and then he turned and let himself out.

  Antonia froze in place, running through the scene back in the drawing room. Something still niggled at her. Some detail that seemed out of place.

  The second teacup. Who had it been intended for? And Mrs. Hill had touched something in her pocket. A card? A memento? Had a visitor abandoned Mrs. Hill, or was she expecting a guest to arrive? Or perhaps it was something completely different. For all Antonia knew, Mrs. Hill was enacting some ritual of homage to her late husband in that mausoleum of a room. Perhaps she carried some memento of him— a lock of hair or a ring?

  She glanced toward the closed doors. She was certain if she walked back through them right now, she’d be evicted.

  Antonia turned toward the staircase, lifted the front hem of her skirt, and fled up the narrow stairs, hoping she hadn’t just made one of the biggest mistakes of her life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  He is the best man who, when making his plans, fears and reflects on everything that can happen to him, but in the moment of action is bold.

  - Herodotus

  Less than forty-five minutes later, Robert faced his brother, who was leaning back against the carriage’s cushions. Robert lifted his cane, closed one eye, and peered along its length. In contrast with his own duplicitous self, the gleaming black cane was perfectly straight and true.

  Robert glanced at Frederick as he lowered the tip to the floor. His unrevealed knowledge of Antonia’s identity rode with them in the carriage like an unwanted third passenger.

  The moment he’d returned he’d sent a footman— young Turner— off on the train to Maidenhead to investigate her story. Turner was a clever one. He’d been grateful for his position in the household. He’d quickly made himself useful to Frederick by successfully completing a number of moderately clandestine tasks, and had shown great talent in carrying them out. Robert rarely made use of Turner’s unusual skills, but he was confident in the footman’s ability to ferret out information. If Antonia had fabricated her story, Turner would soon discover the truth.

  But she’d been forthright. Robert was certain of it.

  He paused— was he simply being diligent in sending Turner to investigate Antonia, or was his investigation a way to delay telling Frederick?

  “Are you listening?” Frederick asked. “You need to focus.”

  “Of course,” Robert lied. He closed his eyes as he tried to recall what his brother had just said. It was something about Revnik’s state of mind, wasn’t it? “Revnik made an enormous mistake in trying to kidnap me. Attempting to snatch a member of the peerage off the streets of London was an act of desperation. That single deed revealed the importance the church register holds for him. Now we know he’s frantic to recover it, and it’s driving him to make reckless decisions.”

  Frederick raised a single eyebrow. “It also reveals the lengths to which Ambassador Revnik is willing to go in order to reclaim it. You need to be careful. Don’t do anything that could put you in danger.”

  “I don’t normally travel with an entourage.” He gestured toward one of the impromptu guards outside the window. “I’m not sure how much more careful I can be.”

  “Just don’t disappear on us. I don’t want his people to find you alone somewhere inside the embassy and decide to take advantage of the situation. That would be a foolish mistake.”

  The implied criticism rubbed like sandpaper against his frayed nerves. “I’m not a fool.”

  Frederick seemed oblivious that he’d given offense. “And make sure you follow the plan. I know how you like to improvise, but today isn’t the day for that.” He gingerly rested the heel of his hand on his knee, leaving his bandaged fingers dangling. He rolled his shoulders as though they were stiff, and they probably were.

  Robert decided it was best not to reply— not if he couldn’t remain civil.

  It had been obvious this morning that Frederick’s burns had given him a sleepless night. When Robert had entered the breakfast room a few hours go, he’d discovered his brother already seated there, looking pale and wan. He’d listlessly picked at his plate of food, gingerly holding his fork between the fingers of his left hand. His slumped shoulders and the dark circles under his eyes told Robert everything he needed to know about the pain he was enduring.

  In an instant, he forgave his brother for being in one of his overly critical moods. Frederick’s compulsion for perfection often overwhelmed him when he was exhausted. When he was like this, he would reexamine every minor detail of a plan ad nauseum. It was best to let him vent and not react. Offering a comment woul
d only provide him with a target for his ire.

  Robert’s grand entourage entered the gates of the embassy twenty minutes late for his appointment, as planned. He sat patiently inside the carriage, not bothering to open the door. His performance as an “offended noble” began at this moment, and this would be his grand entrance. It wasn’t until the footman opened the door that he finally descended with all the pomp and officiousness that the visit demanded. He knew from his previous night’s foray into Revnik’s study that the man had an excellent view of him right now, and he had no doubt he was being watched.

  A servant ushered them upstairs to the ambassador’s suite. They entered through a different door from the one Robert had used last night. This one led him into an outer waiting area rather than directly into the inner office.

  Despite their late arrival, the ambassador’s secretary kept the large group waiting. It was an obvious power play, and clumsily done. The ambassador wanted to demonstrate his control over them, but in doing so he revealed too much of himself and his plans. He’d made it obvious their meeting would be a contentious one.

  Robert’s footmen stood at attention, doing an admirable job of looking intimidating, and based on the secretary’s frequent nervous glances, they were succeeding.

  Although the leather chairs looked comfortable, they weren’t. It was probably intentional. Welcome guests would be ushered into the inner office quickly, whereas unwelcome ones would be forced to endure the torturous chairs in silence.

  Robert leafed through a London newspaper while Frederick perused a week-old Russian one. “You should brush up on your Russian,” Frederick muttered. “You never know when it will come in handy.”

  Frederick had a point. It would have been nice to have been able to decipher a bit more of that book last night.

  Robert picked up another of the week-old Cyrillic-print papers and glanced through it, but set it aside after a few moments. Reading it required more concentration than he could muster at the moment.

  After five minutes of waiting, both Robert and Frederick stood on cue, as planned.

  “Please give the ambassador our regrets. We have other pressing appointments and cannot linger,” Robert said.

  He and Frederick turned toward the exit.

  Before Robert had taken more than two steps, the inner door leading to the ambassador’s office flew open. Robert forced himself not to exchange glances with Frederick. So far, things were happening exactly as his brother had predicted.

  More of Frederick’s chess moves.

  Had Ambassador Revnik been watching— or had the secretary signaled him in some way?

  “Lord Wentworth, Mr. Woolsy, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.”

  “Ambassador Revnik,” Robert replied in clipped tones. “We’d abandoned all hope of meeting with you today. We were just leaving.”

  “Then I’m glad I caught you in time. Please, please, come in.”

  Robert paused long enough to see how Revnik would react if he thought Robert might leave. When the man stepped forward to usher him into the office, Robert relented.

  Frederick followed them into the inner office, and the footmen waited in the receiving room.

  “Please be seated,” Revnik said, gesturing toward a pair of chairs. “Can I offer you some strong Russian tea?” Without waiting for them to respond, Revnik’s secretary gave a nod and hurried off, presumably to prepare the beverage.

  “I hope your health has fully recovered from last night’s unfortunate episode,” Revnik commented as he moved behind his desk.

  “The shrimp?” Robert sat down alongside his brother in the pair of leather chairs facing the ambassador’s wide desk. “Thank you, yes. And with no lasting effects, as you see.”

  “Yes.” He pursed his lips as he examined Robert, apparently not liking what he saw. “A rather miraculous recovery, wouldn’t you say?”

  The secretary entered with a tea tray and began serving everyone.

  “Not necessarily. Once I purged it from my system, my recovery was swift. I was even able to attend the theater as a last-minute addition to Lord Huntley’s box.”

  Revnik’s lips pursed even more tightly, and Robert wondered absently if the ambassador’s pucker might inadvertently swallow his entire face. “I heard as much, and it piqued my curiosity. You seemed so ill when last I spoke to you. The way you rushed from my ball, well, I must admit, I assumed you’d go directly home.”

  The secretary placed cups of tea on the small table between Robert and Frederick.

  “Mr. Ambassador,” Robert said, “this conversation is beginning to take on the tone of an interrogation.”

  The secretary’s eyes grew wide and he scurried from the room.

  “My apologies, my lord—”

  Robert cut him off. “I came today to discuss something much more pressing than the state of my health. An appalling incident occurred last night as I exited the theater. Some of your men— footmen I recognized from your ball— tried to force me into a carriage. If not for the assistance of my friends, your men would have succeeded in kidnapping me off the streets of London. Considering the level of tension between our two countries, I’m astounded you would have resorted to such clumsy tactics.”

  Revnik didn’t even blink. He simply stared at Robert as the seconds ticked by on the clock above his fireplace mantel.

  Robert narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you have anything to say? An apology perhaps? Or some excuse about a mistaken identity?”

  “Would you believe either one?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then let’s not bother. I prefer we have honesty between us.”

  “Honesty?” Robert almost snorted his contempt. “Please. Be honest. I’d love to hear what you have to say. After all, you tried to have me kidnapped.”

  “No— no. Not kidnapped. Never that. I simply wanted to ask you a few questions.” The ambassador’s thin smile was as false as his words. “You left quite suddenly last night, and it seemed unusual. I found it even more noteworthy when I discovered an item had gone missing.”

  Robert tightened his grip on the arms of his chair. “Are you accusing me of theft, ambassador? Do you believe I stole one of Russia’s precious trinkets from your embassy? Did I walk out with a painting tucked under my arm? This is outrageous. You insult me, sir.” Robert shoved himself to his feet, scraping his chair noisily against the floor as he did so.

  “Calm yourself, my lord.” Revnik made a soothing gesture as he rose to his feet as well.

  “Calm myself? You attempt to kidnap me, question me regarding my brief indisposition last night, then accuse me of being a thief, and you expect me to react calmly? Does your czar know how you conduct yourself, sir? Our countries are on the brink of war. I doubt Czar Nicholas would approve of your methods.”

  Revnik let out an indignant huff of air and squared his shoulders. “You forget yourself, Lord Wentworth. You aren’t on British soil right now. This embassy is Russia. I intend to do whatever it takes to recover what was stolen.”

  “This meeting is at an end, Revnik. And I assure you that Queen Victoria will hear of your abysmal behavior. I came here today because I hoped there was a simple misunderstanding that could be cleared up with a conversation, but now I see I was mistaken. Your actions have been reckless and reprehensible, and I refuse to tolerate your continued abuse. Good day.”

  As he turned his back, he saw Revnik’s expression falter. Robert didn’t hesitate, but flung open the door and strode through it with Frederick at his heels.

  Robert turned to speak with Frederick and was gratified to see Revnik hurry around his desk. The man banged against something and let out a yelp of pain.

  “Lord Wentworth. Please.” Revnik hobbled forward, chasing Robert through his secretary’s office. “My apologies, my lord. I believe you are right. There is a fundamental misunderstanding between us.”

  Robert paused and turned to face the ambassador. “Now you’re telling me this is nothing mo
re than a misunderstanding? Just a moment ago you didn’t even believe an apology was in order.”

  “I was wrong. I’m sorry. For everything. Please. Come back into my office so we can talk. I— I need your help.”

  Robert and Frederick exchanged glances. Events were unfolding exactly as Frederick had predicted. No— planned. The man knew exactly how to manipulate people like pieces on a chess board.

  Frederick finally spoke. “Perhaps, since Ambassador Revnik is willing to apologize, you should ask him to explain what drove him to act in such an injudicious manner before you decide whether or not to take this matter to the Queen.”

  Robert pretended to ponder his brother’s advice, and then met Revnik’s pleading gaze. “I have one condition. Before we continue, you must agree to stop playing these manipulative games. I have no more patience for them.”

  “Of course, Lord Wentworth.” Revnik’s tight smile revealed his anxiety. He stepped to one side and ushered them back into his inner office.

  Once they’d returned to their seats, Revnik peered at Robert from across his desk. “Last night someone stole an item of importance right out of a diplomatic pouch. It’s a severe breach of our embassy’s security, and I’ve already taken measures to address the lapse. My first suspicions fell upon a certain young woman, but her involvement seemed unlikely since she wasn't on our restricted guest list. However, when I described her, one of my footmen recalled seeing her last night. I’ve been contacting all of my guests to learn if any of them might have seen her or spoken to her.”

  Robert arched one eyebrow. “And you decided to kidnap me to ask about her?”

  Revnik’s smile was as false as it was broad. “Kidnap! Never! As I said, I merely wished to speak with you. And since there was some urgency to the matter, I believed it was best to offer you an escort.”