The Female Charm

by Amelia Price

  The Female Charm

  Amelia Price

  Copyright 2016 Jess Mountifield

  Cover Copyright 2016 Elizabeth Mackey

  Smashwords edition

  All rights reserved.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, organisations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Acknowledgements

  As always, my husband, Phil, has shown great patience and forbearance while I write. He's a very practical man to have around and I definitely have an easier life with him by my side.

  A big thank you to Bear and David, for listening to my issues with the plot and writing with me now and then. Sometimes I just need someone else there working as well. You're both invaluable.

  To Ella for the wonderful editing. Somehow you fit my books around your schedule and always find those commas I forget.

  To Elizabeth for another beautiful cover design. You're amazing at something I suck at and I'll always be grateful.

  To Kate, for listening and being one of the best friends a person could ask for. You've always got a sympathetic ear when I feel like I'm swimming in the deep end and more than a little lost.

  Finally, to God, for knowing what I need to learn and when I need to learn it, even if I'm sometimes very very slow.

  Dedication

  To Sophie. Please keep being you. You're awesome.

  Chapter 1

  The sound of the doorknob turning disturbed Mycroft from his thoughts. An elderly gentleman followed the sounds into the room. Neither of them spoke until the door was closed soundlessly behind him. It wouldn't be wise to make any noise while in the Diogenes club. The regulars had only just forgiven him for the fuss Amelia had made here several months earlier.

  “Good evening, Myron,” Sherlock said, using Mycroft's current name. They used them whenever there was a chance they would be interrupted. It took him less than a second to remember that Sherlock called himself Edward on the few occasions that he posed as their father. Mycroft had chosen the name in honour of Edmond Dantes in the Count of Monte Cristo. It was just one of many precautions the immortal Holmes brothers took to protect their secret from the world.

  “What brings you for a visit, father of mine?”

  “I've brought that item you wanted Sebastian to retrieve for you.” He pulled a small carrier bag out of his pocket. It was wrapped around a journal that one of his agents had left behind at a house currently in the centre of a terrorist investigation.

  Sherlock, posing as Sebastian, and taking an interest in helping the police work out what they'd found, had lifted it before any of them had noticed. If it had been found it would have made it obvious that the rest of the evidence was fake and the last two weeks of cover would have been wasted. On top of that, it would have started an international incident between Iran and the UK. It might even have led to yet another war, but Mycroft would never admit that to his brother. Sherlock had a big enough ego as it was.

  Before Mycroft could reply, or offer any form of gratitude, the butler came in with tea. If Sherlock had been posing as Sebastian, no one would have come, but this was their father. A man who appeared to have been donating large sums of money to keep the place running for a very long time. Mycroft was the source, of course. Over a hundred years of running a country, earning a living and investing well had led to a great deal of wealth.

  While the butler was pouring tea for both of them, Daniels put his head through the open doorway and put his thumb up to let Mycroft know the task he'd been given several hours earlier was complete. Mycroft nodded his acknowledgement, but wished his chauffeur hadn't followed orders right at that moment. Sherlock must have arrived through the back entrance or Daniels would have known to send a message rather than appear himself.

  “What was that about?” Sherlock asked, once they were alone again. He sighed. Sherlock would have to be between cases and extra curious right now. “Anything interesting?”

  “Not particularly. Just some training for a new recruit.”

  “Amelia, by any chance?”

  Mycroft fought the urge to frown but felt his temper flare. He had hoped Sherlock would forget her slip-up when she confessed the arrangement they had. After all the years he'd shown scorn for his younger brother training and, oddly, befriending Watson, here he was now, doing the same with Amelia.

  “I think it's been good for you. She's improved your temperament.” Mycroft sneered and didn't deign to respond. “How is she?”

  “You don't know?”

  Sherlock waved his hand in admittance of ignorance.

  “She's barely spoken to me since Christmas. Now you're training her she needs me less. It's not entirely unexpected. Even Watson moved on after spending several years under my tutelage. I'll see her when I need to.”

  “Hmmph.” Mycroft looked pointedly at Sherlock, hoping his younger brother would leave. He had work to do and, although he'd never admit it, he wanted to know how Amelia was going to fare with her next set of lessons. It was a serious step-up from her previous teachings and would involve elements of all of them, much like real world scenarios did. It might even involve a little bit of her usual female charm, although he hoped it would teach her to use that sparingly.

  He felt she'd earnt this lesson with the risk she'd taken to get information for him a few weeks earlier. She'd managed to fool not only a house full of Russian and Korean terrorists but the Holmes brothers, too, while acquiring it. The royal family owed her for the protection of one of their biggest secrets, even if they didn't recognise her part in saving them. Something not to be belittled, even if she'd been more than a little foolish with her method.

  Thankfully, after ignoring Sherlock for half an hour, his younger brother took the hint and left. Mycroft could finally get on with his own work. Several files sat on the desk in front of him. Half of the four were official, the other two would be incinerated the second he was done with them.

  The first only contained a single piece of paper. A simple report that Mr Delra had sailed to the Caribbean for the rest of the winter due to ill health, at least according to the rumours. Mycroft threw the piece of paper into the fire. For now Mr Delra could be left alone. Most of his agents would be better put to use elsewhere.

  If Mr Delra had acquired a copy of the information Amelia had recovered, Mycroft would already know about it. Moving to somewhere as neutral as the Caribbean was an evident attempt at a message of truce. For now, he wasn't a threat.

  The next unofficial file contained information about all of the evidence at the crime scene the police would be going over currently. Mycroft glanced over the details, satisfied to note that the agent responsible was already in India on his next mission. Sherlock had already remedied the one mistake and the agent had been reprimanded. The agent's next task would be easier and less critical. After memorising the final details, Mycroft added that document to the fire as well.

  Of the remaining two files, Mycroft already expected the contents of one, so he dealt with this first. A study of a mysterious illness spreading in Guinea, Africa, had been directed across his desk for his opinion. There were less than a hundred people infected so far, but almos
t half of them had already died and most weren't expected to survive the week.

  He looked over the reported symptoms, spread and infection rate before tapping out a short message to his secretary. It was Ebola and could be stopped before it continued much further if quickly quarantined. Of course, the superstitious beliefs in the area might hinder that, but he'd already done his part and would leave the rest up to the relevant health organisations.

  With all of the small and expected details out of the way, Mycroft was left with the most concerning one. He'd been phoned in advance and then given this folder when he'd made a request for more information. One of the conservative MPs was receiving some very unusual mail, and had noticed some other strange events. It was up to Mycroft to decide what the exact threat was and what to do about it.

  A sigh escaped his lips as he perused the first document. The secretary had been the first to notice something suspicious, although it had happened several times before she'd said anything to anyone. A frown fixed itself to his face when he read that she'd noticed rubbish going missing, as well as items of stationery moving about her desk while she was out on her lunch break.

  At first she thought she was just imaging it or being paranoid so said nothing, but it was now possible that someone had gained access to some damaging information that should have been kept more secure. Not for the first time did Mycroft wish everyone in the government could be taught to be as observant as he or his brother, but he knew it was a vain wish; even his own little student didn't observe enough.

  The next section of the file contained the original letters sent to the MP that had also raised alarm bells. They were anonymous and contained no information other than a few threats about knowing something important and a request for a problem with a particular village hall in the constituency to be sorted out. There was something to do with some vandalism that hadn't been fixed.

  Although the letters were anonymous, it was quite evidently some disgruntled father who had sent them and given the detailed information about the village hall in his own village. With the original letters and envelopes, Mycroft was sure he could track down who sent them with relative ease.

  He wrote down the ink and pen used, as well as the quality, thickness and likely sources of the paper before sending the information to the agent he already had in the area. They would find out who bought the paper and pen, if nothing else.

  The next few documents in the file were details of what might have been stolen from the desk. The only definite information was a bank statement showing money being transferred from a public funds account into another that could probably be traced to the MP by someone who knew what they were doing.

  It was likely they two incidents were related and the person sending the letters at least knew the person who had the information, if they weren't the same person, but he'd pursue both avenues of enquiry either way. While probability was usually in his favour, in something so delicate he would never take a chance. He requested a background check be done on all the staff who enter or exit the building at any point, both current and anyone fired in the last three months.

  If the letters were linked to the missing document, then it would probably be sold to a reporter soon. The source would be unlikely to know what to do with something like the bank statement and would seek to enact his own threats in the letters, especially as his demands would be entirely ignored.

  The fact that funds were being used privately was nothing new to Mycroft. He'd approved the removal in the first place, and it wasn't the first time he'd used public money in a way the general population wouldn't understand. The public rarely knew what was best for them.

  Even if this one document was all the culprit had, it would be enough to ruin the career of the MP, especially ahead of the Scottish Referendum. Mycroft messaged his recommendation to his assistant.

  When thief is found, use emergency fund to pay him to keep quiet. If doesn't work, promise to fix hall.

  Mycroft resisted the urge to suggest the man fix the hall himself with the bribe money. If he cared as much as he said he did, then the logical response would be to use any bribe money offered to do just that, but he suspected the man enjoyed making a fuss and criticising the current MP more than he cared about the broken hall, or anything else wrong in his village.

  With all the folders dealt with, Mycroft sat back and closed his eyes, picturing what Amelia might be up to. By now she should have spotted the letter that would start her next task. She was going to have an interesting week and would need to be alert for anything out of place to pick up on everything she needed to.

  Mycroft patted his jacket pocket as it hung on the back of the chair to check the phone Amelia communicated on was in there. He'd been carrying it around for several weeks but it wasn't used a lot. She knew better than to contact him without good reason after everything that had happened in their past.

  Sometime today he'd have a message from her, however. All he had to do was wait.

  Before he could summon the butler for a fresh pot of tea, the door swung open and the very man walked in with the usual tray. Mycroft nodded his head in acknowledgement to the butler's good timing, and felt a small amount of smugness at having recommended him for the post. Nothing made life better quite like a good butler.

  As the butler set the new teapot down and removed the other one, Mycroft noticed another file sitting beside it.

  “This came for you two minutes ago, sir. The usual source.”

  “Thank you, Anderson.”

  With a sigh, Mycroft flicked open the file and got back to work. There was always something in the world that needed his attention.

  Chapter 2

  A giggle escaped Amelia's lips as James snuck up on David and tickled his ear with the feather he'd just found.

  “Ger'off,” David said and waved his hand. A cross expression flitted across his face but they all knew he didn't mean it.

  “Found it!” Sophie's voice came from Amelia's right. She turned towards her friend as David and James came hurrying over. Sophie held a small plastic Tupperware box with the words 'official geocache' on it up in the air and grinned. It was her first find of the day. Amelia and David were on two, leaving only James without a find in the circular route of nine that they'd planned for the afternoon.

  James beat the three over to the box and quickly took the log book from Sophie to write their usernames and the date into it. Amelia gave her attention to the box. She had made several cute origami figures in case there was something she wanted to trade for in each cache. It was rare she did, as the contents were mostly kids' toys, but sometimes she found a pretty stone, shell or even something cool like a nice pencil or pen.

  It only took her eyes a second to fix on the tiny envelope with the little wax seal on it nestled amongst a kid's plastic yo-yo and a small figurine from a kinder surprise. It was Myron's seal, and immediately her heart rate increased, while she struggled to fight the smile wanting to spread across her face.

  She hadn't even mentioned to Sebastian that she was out geocaching with her friends. They'd only decided for sure that morning, when the day had dawned bright and clear, if not a little on the cold side. It could only mean he was paying attention to her.

  Amelia bit down on her lip as Sophie continued to look through the box, but if she noticed the strangeness of an unmarked envelope she didn't say anything.

  “Done?” Sophie asked James when she was bored of looking. He nodded and folded the log book's top back over before holding it out.

  “Where did you find it?” Amelia asked as she held out her hand for the box. Just as she'd hoped, Sophie absentmindedly handed her the container and looked away to point at a gap between two large boulders. A small rock and some disturbed twigs and leaves sat near the hole and had evidently been used to hide it from anyone but the most eager of hunters.

  “I'll put it back,” she said. “You guys can get a head start on the next one since I'm ahead of you.” She took the log book from
James and shoved it into the box with one hand while she slipped the envelope out with the other.

  James and Sophie ran off but David lingered, making it harder for her to slip the envelope into her pocket without anyone noticing. Eventually, the geocache was back in its hiding place, the letter was in her pocket, and she was walking along the path after James and Sophie.

  “Is everything all right, Amelia?” David asked, taking up position beside her on the path.

  “Yes, why wouldn't it be?”

  “Well, it's just that you've been a little... different, lately. More focused. You've laughed less and you keep going to London. And you seem to keep getting hurt.” David kept his eyes on the path ahead and she noticed James glance back at them before taking Sophie's arm and hurrying her up. She fought to keep the surprise from her face. They must have all been talking about her. She self-consciously shrugged her sleeves over the fading scabs on her wrists, the last remnants of her most recent ordeal.

  “It's been a tough few months for me. With the stalker, things got a little crazy, and I've been learning some new things and doing some research on some topics that keep taking me to London,” she said, rambling as she tried to put their minds at ease.

  “James thought you might have a crush on this Sebastian guy.”

  “Oh... no, not him.”

  “So there is someone in London then?”

  Amelia blushed at the question. There was someone, but it was far too complicated to explain. She couldn't look at David as she tried to think of a way out of the conversation.

  “Make sure he deserves you, Amelia. He should be willing to move heaven and earth to keep you safe.”

  “There's nothing official. I just like the guy, and I'm not sure if he even feels the same yet.” She bit down on her words, knowing she'd never be able to fully explain, but wondering if David was right. Could she be happy with anything less than someone fully devoted to her?