The Trouble With Moonlight

by Donna MacMeans

  “Oh dear.” Her aunt’s brows drew together in confusion. She bit her lip and lowered her voice. “Does this mean there will be no twenty pounds forthcoming?”

  “Aunt, please listen. That no-good, lying, son-of-a-whoremonger Locke knows about my abilities. We must move! Wake the girls! Jenkins is waiting with the carriage to whisk us to the docks. We must go before Locke finds us.”

  “We need more than that, dear.” Aunt Eugenia sighed heavily. “I used the commission from the Farthingon necklace to pay off debts. I had counted on the twenty pounds to pay our current expenses and have some left over—”

  “For winter.” Lusinda completed the sentence, realizing that “winter” had arrived.

  Her aunt nodded. “You’ve never failed to retrieve the articles before.” She glanced up, her tired eyes magnified behind her spectacles. “Perhaps I should have held back some of the necklace money, but I didn’t want to ask the household servants to wait for their pay again.”

  Her poor aunt looked so miserable. Lusinda bit back her urge to reprimand. Instead, she sat down and patted her aunt’s knee. “Of course you didn’t. You made the right choice. You couldn’t have known that James Locke was a deceitful scoundrel.”

  But Lusinda knew. Now that she couldn’t up and move her family as had been her intent, she’d have to develop another strategy to keep them all safe.

  “What happened tonight?” Her aunt narrowed her gaze. “You look . . . disheveled.”

  “He laid a trap for me. A smelly fishnet fell from the ceiling just as I had his watch in my hand. He was waiting in the corner to pounce on me.” Her cheeks heated at the memory. She didn’t feel the need to mention the exact nature of the pouncing, but her body remembered all the same.

  “Oh dear. Are you all right?” Her aunt’s eyes widened. “How did you get free?”

  “It was the oddest thing.” She felt her brow furl. “After he had gone to all that trouble, he let me go.” Consequent to all that had transpired, she still felt vexed by the ease of her exit and his lack of bodily restraint. Perhaps her concerns about persecution were not as justified as she had thought. “He mentioned something about verifying what he’d already suspected. ”

  “Indeed, that is odd.” Her aunt seemed equally perplexed. “He had no other motive?”

  “Well . . .” Lusinda shifted uncomfortable on the settee, remembering her misinterpretation of his offer. “He did ask me to become a spy.”

  “A spy!” Aunt Eugenia’s eyes widened to the size of two sugar bowls. “My heavens, child! For whom?”

  “For England, silly. Locke is not a traitor; that would be ridiculous.” The words left her mouth without thought. Even before Locke had said her identity would be protected by Her Majesty’s service, she knew intuitively that he could never be a traitor. There was something about Locke that felt proper and correct, most likely his speed in correcting her assumption of his intentions. Warmth crept up her throat and cheeks. She waved her hand to dismiss the thoughts from her mind and cool the heated memories. “Never mind all that. The idea is without merit.”

  “Is it, dear?” Her aunt studied her with an air of inquisitiveness.

  “Aunt Eugenia!”

  “Well, your talents are exceptionally good for recovering things other people prefer hidden. You can pick a door lock in the blink of an eye. And . . .”

  Lusinda glared at her aunt. The list of her attributes sounded too much like those of a common thief. “And what?”

  “It would be wonderful for the girls if we could just stay in one place for an extended period of time without having to watch every move that we make.” Her aunt released an exasperated sigh. “It would be nice to have her majesty’s services on our side instead of worrying that they would discover our secrets.”

  “Have you forgotten what the villagers did to Great-aunt Selena when they discovered her in mid-phase? Or that Russian doctor who has offered a reward for someone with my abilities?” Incredulous, Lusinda had heard the stories for as long as she could remember. How could her aunt forget?

  “I know it’s hard for you, my dear.” Her aunt’s guttural accent thickened, generally a sign of distress. She patted Lusinda’s hand. “It was difficult for your mother to manage the secrecy of her condition as well. I may not have the power to phase like you and your mother, but I carry the fear of discovery just the same. When your parents died, one following the other, just months apart . . .” Her voice broke and a tear trickled down her cheek.

  Guilt at stirring up sad memories pulled Lusinda away from her diatribe. She’d forgotten her fears were not hers alone. Aunt Eugenia had stood by her mother’s side and hers as well, even though it had meant personal sacrifice. She had picked up and moved with them countless times; she handled the tedious elements of running the household, maintaining the accounts, and keeping them all clothed and fed. Ashamed, Lusinda realized that if she should admonish anyone, it should be herself for speaking to her aunt in such a fashion. She pulled her aunt into a hug in an act of contrition.

  “You and your sisters are like my own children.” Aunt Eugenia sniffed. “If something were to happen to you my heart would burst from grief.” She pushed out of Lusinda’s embrace and removed a lacy handkerchief from her sleeve. “But perhaps, now it’s time to use the government instead of running from them.” She dabbed at tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “If this Mr. Locke knows of your abilities, he’s not going to let you go. He’ll likely have the resources of the entire empire at his disposal. I’m not certain we can hide anymore, Lusinda. He’s not like the others.”

  She could certainly attest to that. Why, he had sat at that desk and had spoken to her as if she’d stood before him in the flesh. No one had done that before. The man possessed a few uncanny abilities of his own.

  “Why not do what you do for the good of the Crown?” Aunt Eugenia asked.

  “Why not indeed?” She hadn’t allowed herself the luxury of that thought, so used was she to running at the slightest provocation. However, one look at her aunt’s strained expression pulled at Lusinda’s aching heart. Perhaps it was time to reconsider.

  “I suppose we are bound to see this Mr. Locke again?” Her aunt tilted her head.

  Lusinda nodded though the thought made her a bit apprehensive. He wouldn’t be pleased that she’d left so abruptly, but she couldn’t very well phase-in to full flesh with nothing to protect her virtue. It just wasn’t done. If they didn’t vacate the house tonight, he’d most likely be at her door tomorrow. She grimaced, resigned to the upcoming confrontation. It might be necessary, but she wouldn’t enjoy it.

  HE ARRIVED MIDAFTERNOON. LUSINDA CHASED RHEA and Portia out of the parlor and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She exchanged a quick glance with her aunt before Eugenia answered the door.

  “Mr. Locke, I presume?” Aunt Eugenia said with a tight-lipped smile. Lusinda couldn’t see Locke’s response.

  He entered the hallway with his top hat in hand. In his fashionable waistcoat and jacket, he certainly appeared much improved over yesterday’s Laurence Langtree. Lusinda chided herself; how could she have been so fooled by his silly masquerade?

  “Miss Havershaw.” He nodded to her and entered the parlor. “I hope you slept well last night.” He bent over her hand and gazed up at her. “I, on the other hand, hardly slept a wink.”

  Neither had she, though she would never admit it. She was about to move into uncharted territory, and the idea scared her to her toes.

  He turned to Aunt Eugenia who hovered near the doorway. “I wonder, madam, if I might speak to your niece alone? I assure you that her virtue will be safe.”

  Aunt Eugenia’s glance shifted to Lusinda. She nodded. As much as she would have liked to draw comfort from her aunt’s presence, this was something she would have to face alone.

  “Very well,” Eugenia replied, directing a stern glance toward Locke. “I won’t be far away.” She turned back to Lucinda. “If you need me, I will hear you call.”


  Lusinda smiled weakly in response, knowing that even her resourceful aunt could not help her out of the predicament into which she was now placed. She waited for her aunt’s footsteps to fade before she motioned Locke toward the settee, while she selected a hard back chair at its side. “I had thought we’d see you earlier. We could have vacated this house hours ago and been well on our way to the continent by now.”

  “But you didn’t.” He cocked his head and smiled. She bit her lip to hide the traitorous ripple of pleasure his smile elicited. He glanced quickly toward the window. “I’ve had this address watched since yesterday. I would have known if you had tried to leave.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “What would you have done if we made the attempt?”

  “I would have stopped you.” The statement was made with such confidence, Lusinda had no doubt it was true. She was tempted to peek out the window to see if a mounted regiment stood guard in the street. But as he leaned toward her all thought of events outside his immediate vicinity shrunk in proportion.

  “I would have stopped you any way I could. You see . . . I need you . . . or rather your abilities, rather urgently. I had hoped to convince you of that last night.” The pleasant humor slipped from his face, and his voice lowered. “But if I haven’t convinced you to work with me for the good of the Crown, please consider this: now that I know of your capabilities, I cannot let another country use your talents against us.”

  “I would never do such a thing.” Her spine stiffened in protest.

  “It could be that you’d have no choice. The Russian government is well known for their abilities to persuade individuals to do their bidding.”

  Her eyes widened at his implication. “Torture?”

  “It’s happened before.” Something flickered in his eyes. Something cold and frightening. Something that raised gooseflesh on her arms. “Perhaps not to such an attractive young woman, but we’ve lost many a good man to their attempts to extort information.”

  “What of my family?” she asked. “They depend upon me for shelter and sustenance.”

  He gazed about the room. She could almost see his mental assessment in his measuring glance. “I can arrange for your family to receive a stipend to cover their needs. You shall have nothing to worry about on that score.” She hadn’t anticipated the immense burden his promise lifted from her shoulders.

  “However,” he cautioned, “no one is to know that you are in the Queen’s service.” He glanced at the photograph on a side table that the three sisters and their aunt had had taken last summer while on holiday. “Not even your family.”

  “But my aunt already knows.”

  He lifted an eyebrow.

  “She and I discussed your request when I arrived home last night, but you can trust her to keep this secret. She has kept the secret of my special abilities since I turned thirteen. ”

  “May I assume that the conversation with your aunt came to a satisfactory conclusion? She did not threaten me with bodily harm nor did I notice your family’s luggage stacked in the hallway.”

  She reluctantly nodded.

  A satisfied smile spread across his handsome features. “Very good.” He picked up the photograph. “Well then, let us keep our arrangement a secret from your sisters.” He glanced up at her, and a curious expression flitted across his face. “Can your sisters disappear in the same manner as you?”

  “Portia can not,” she said, pointing to her seventeen-year-old sister. “She was born during the day of a quarter moon. In order for a child to inherit the ability they must be born during a full moon to a mother in full-phase.”

  “By full-phase, you mean . . .”

  “Invisible.” She didn’t feel the need to mention the difficulties associated with an invisible woman in labor, nor did she mention that her own mother had died while bringing Rhea into the world. However, the set of her jaw must have suggested further questions in that area were not welcome.

  He cleared his throat. “And the youngest?”

  “We don’t know about Rhea yet. The ability first presents itself when a child . . . or perhaps I should say a girl . . . becomes a woman.”

  “I see.” He smiled tightly and replaced the photograph. “She has some years ahead of her then.” He stood as if to leave. “We shall talk more of this once you have moved into my residence, but for now—”

  She bolted to her feet. “Sir! Surely you jest! I am willing to participate in this spy scheme of yours, especially as it appears you’ve left me little choice. But to expect me, an unmarried woman, to move into the house of a bachelor is quite beyond the pale.”

  He stopped and raised a brow. “Miss Havershaw, as you may have noticed during your midnight call of last evening, the house is of sufficient size to accommodate you without placing your virtue in question. Furthermore—”

  “It is a matter of propriety,” she gasped.

  “It is a matter of safety,” he replied, his brow lowered. “I can protect you in my household. I can not oversee your safety here.”

  “Perhaps I don’t need your protection.” She threw back her shoulders in defiance. “I have managed quite well without your assistance thus far.”

  He dropped his head but did not concede. Lusinda took a breath and calmed her voice.

  “It is not for my propriety alone that I voice concern, sir. A woman with my . . . unique abilities . . . is hardly likely to attract a suitor in London.” She picked at one of Aunt Eugenia’s lacy antimacassars on the back of a chair. “It is difficult to court a woman whom one can not see. My reputation, therefore, is of little consequence to me.” She forced a smile, though it was not returned. “However, if my reputation is sullied, so too are my sisters’ reputations. They have a chance at a normal existence. I will not intentionally harm my family or tarnish their futures.”

  He paused as if measuring her words and then nodded. “My apologies, Miss Havershaw. I had not considered the matter of your family’s reputation. My concern was for the safety of your aunt and sisters. Should it be known that you are involved in espionage, your family could be used against you to force your hand. Were you to disappear from society or assume a different identity, your family would be spared this exposure. I can not fathom another way to protect them from harm.”

  Pain, the depth of which she hadn’t experienced since her mother’s death, ripped her soul in two. How could she argue against the safety of her aunt and sisters? Her knees weakened and she sank back in the chair. Tears swam in her eyes. She glanced at him, praying that he’d reconsider.

  “I can not live with my family?” Try as she may to avoid it, her voice broke.

  His eyes didn’t soften. “It would not be wise. I can teach you what you need to know for the work you will perform, but traveling from your residence to mine will surely raise suspicions. At best, your reputation would be needlessly sullied. At worse, your family will be held hostage.”

  She could not argue with his logic even though it sounded much like a death knell. Aunt Eugenia and she had not foreseen this consequence. In hindsight, they should have packed their bags and disappeared into the night even without a farthing to their names. Winter had definitely come early.

  “I can not live with my family.” Her own voice sounded dead to her ears.

  “Given your ability to slip undetected from one place to another, you should be able to move into my residence without raising suspicion.” His hopeful tone did little to lift her spirits. “I’m sure we can arrange an occasional call upon your sisters to review their welfare.”

  She raised her face to his, refusing to wipe the wet tear tracks, and focused her anger into a searing glare. “Mr. Locke, I should never have trusted you. I curse the day I laid eyes on you.”

  He leaned down and placed his hands on the sides of her face. Using the pads of his thumbs, he gently stroked the moisture from her cheeks. His gaze swept her face, and for a moment, she thought he might kiss her. Instead, he leaned close to her ear, filling it with
a gentle warmth.

  “I, however, thank the powers that be for the night I failed to see you.”

  Four

  “WHERE THE DEVIL IS SHE?”

  James glanced from the map of central Asia on his desk, to the nearby tray containing two glasses of a nice French Bordeaux for toasting their new partnership, to the open doorway of the library. Her trunk, valise, and infernal black cat had all been delivered earlier in the day. He had anticipated that she would wait for the cover of darkness to come to his residence, but it was nigh on midnight without a sight or, he allowed himself a slight smile, scent of her.

  Stop that. Thinking of Miss Havershaw as anything more than an assistant could only lead to attachment. Attachment was bound to lead to trouble. He should think of her as a useful instrument, like a pick or a skeleton key, something in his control that he could hold in his hand.

  Of course, thoughts of hands led to memories of discovering his invisible assailant was a woman, and an unclothed woman at that. His mind recalled the tactile feel of her breast with a tight bud at the apex thrusting into his palm, begging for the attention of his fingertips. It had been so long since he had caressed a woman’s body, or allowed a woman to caress his. He had no wish to see a woman’s lustful gaze turn to pity at the sight of his scarred flesh, and so he avoided those situations. Yet no harm could come from lingering over that tantalizing memory of Miss Havershaw.

  He closed his eyes and sunk his head in his hands. “Concentrate, ” he ordered himself. Still the memory of her sweet fragrance haunted him, swirling about his senses like a mythical jinni emerging from a magical lamp.

  “Concentrate or you’ll be bloody well lost.”

  “You don’t appear to be lost,” Lusinda said. “If anything, I would guess you to be found.”

  He bolted to his feet upon hearing her voice and glanced toward the doorway. Of course he saw nothing, but she was obviously there. The fact that he saw nothing smacked him in the gut, because if he saw nothing that meant she was—