Lord and Lady Spy

by Shana Galen

  Why? She screamed at the doctor with the sad face. What is wrong with me?

  He hadn’t been able to answer her and recommended rest and trying again.

  These things happen, he’d said.

  It was better than what previous doctors told her. She’d caused the miscarriage with a foul mood. Another told her she worried too much, and that caused her miscarriages.

  But this doctor had shrugged. These things happen. Sophia had repeated the words to herself over and over and over.

  It was cold comfort.

  After the final miscarriage, she’d taken every mission, asking for the most dangerous. She’d wanted to feel strong and in control. She didn’t want to feel helpless anymore. Perhaps that was why the loss of Ducos to the agent she now knew was Adrian had cut her so. Once again, she’d felt helpless, out of control.

  Now as she stood on Millie Jenkinson’s walkway, she realized she didn’t feel helpless anymore. She didn’t feel she needed to be in control all the time. She could give some of that control to Adrian. She saw he was worthy of her trust. She was not Henry. She could trust Adrian to take care of her, and she would take care of him.

  Sophia had never been in love before. She’d loved her parents and her brother. She’d loved those little unborn babies. But she’d never loved a man. She’d wanted to love Adrian, had certainly lusted after him, but she’d never been able to give all of herself. Had that changed now? Now he knew who she was, who she really was. And she could trust him with that knowledge. She knew he would stand beside her no matter what.

  Was that the beginning of love?

  Not lust—they had once again found their passion, that frenzied heat of attraction. But did it go deeper? Did Adrian feel more than mere passion for her now?

  “Sophia?”

  She jumped, startled by the sound of his voice. She hadn’t heard him approach, and that was telling in itself.

  He was frowning at her. “I said your name three times.”

  “I was thinking.” She smiled, tried to reassure him.

  “Of what?” He started down the steps and offered her his arm.

  She looked into his eyes. Eyes that had once looked on her with nothing but cold, gray disinterest now looked warm as molten steel. “Passion,” she said.

  His brows shot up, then he narrowed his eyes. No fool, that Agent Wolf. “Are you certain you feel well enough to walk? I can still summon the carriage.”

  She squeezed his arm. “I feel fine. And we can discuss the interview with Callows as we walk. I know how you like to dissect each and every detail.”

  He didn’t argue, not that she’d expected him to. “What are your initial impressions?” he asked as he led her along the street.

  “He’s scared.”

  Adrian looked at her sharply. “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s obvious. The murder horrified him, and he’s afraid whoever did it will come back for him. That’s why he was so uncooperative. He wants to run and hide.”

  “Whoever did this isn’t after him.” Adrian stepped aside to allow a woman leading three small, yapping dogs to pass.

  “I don’t suppose he’s willing to take chances. What did you think of the way he described the body? Have you ever seen anything like that before?”

  They crossed Regent Street and headed back toward the heart of Mayfair. Sophia’s nose itched, and she glanced behind her.

  “Never.” Adrian answered. “You?

  “Hmm?” She turned to look at him. “Oh, no.” But something didn’t feel right. She looked over her shoulder again.

  “Still, there’s something familiar. When we reach home, I’ll show you something in… What are you doing?”

  She’d stopped and bent to check her half boot. Without looking up, she said, “There’s someone following us. Just now, when I paused and bent, he ducked into that butcher shop.”

  “Are you certain?”

  She didn’t dignify the question with an answer.

  Adrian frowned. “Fine. What does he look like?”

  She rose, pretended to shake out her skirts, and then extracted the glass from her reticule. “He’s wearing dark blue trousers and a green coat. Light-colored waistcoat and brown hat.” She transferred the small glass into one hand and took Adrian’s arm with the other. “I can’t see the hair, but he has dark-colored eyes and a scar on his left cheek.”

  “You got a good look at him.”

  She shook her head. “Only a glimpse, but he’s been tailing us since we left the Jenkinson residence.” She lifted the glass, pretended to fix her hat as they strolled along Conduit. “He’s behind us again.”

  “Are you watching him in the glass?” Adrian asked.

  She nodded.

  “Clever girl. I say we have a little fun and catch this one.”

  She tipped her hat to him. “I’ll follow your lead.”

  They strolled amiably for another block or so. Sophia watched their shadow in her glass, and then without even warning her, Adrian cut down an unfamiliar side street. As soon as they were out of sight of the main street, he took off at a jog. He kept hold of her hand, and with her free hand, she lifted her skirts and followed. She understood his strategy immediately. He was going to double back and surprise their shadow.

  At the end of the street, Adrian turned left. The smell of horse manure and the shuffling sounds of the beasts alerted her to the mews before they reached them. A few of the gates were open, but most were closed, as the horses had been fed and tended in the morning and were now out and about, pulling the carriages of the wealthy and titled.

  “Damn it!” Adrian slowed. “I thought there was a break right here.” He gestured to a wall of mews up ahead.

  Sophia put a hand to her waist, caught her breath. Running in stays, a shift, a petticoat, skirts, and a spencer was exhausting. No wonder most spies were men. “If we don’t cut back, we’re going to lose him.”

  “Bloody hell.”

  Sophia scanned the alleyway. Up ahead, right before the mews began, she spotted a low wall. It was probably the back of a shop on Conduit, perhaps a storage area of some sort. “There!” She pointed, and Adrian frowned at it then at her.

  “Do you think you can scale that?”

  She blinked at him. “Is that a challenge, Agent Wolf?”

  “Why not? First one to catch our shadow wins.” He started for the wall, and she was right behind him.

  “Wins what?”

  He had the advantage of height, and he had only to jump to catch the top of the wall with his hands. She watched as he used strength alone to lever himself up. Was it wrong of her to wish he was shirtless? She could imagine the way the muscles on his arms and back rippled and bunched, but she wouldn’t have minded seeing it. She was still watching him when he grinned down at her. “The prize is to be determined by the winner.” He raised his brows. “At this point, it looks like that will be me.” And he jumped down.

  “That’s what you think,” she muttered to herself and took three steps back. She was going to have to run at the wall, jump, and hope she made it high enough to reach the top. Then she could pull her feet up and vault over. She’d done it before, but never in skirts.

  But hell would freeze over before she allowed Adrian to win.

  She angled her head, took another step back, judging the distance. Hiking her skirts, she took a deep breath just as the doors to the mews beside her opened and a groom led a prancing white horse harnessed to a white-and-gold phaeton into the alleyway.

  Sophia stamped her foot in frustration. Now she was going to have to wait until the groom led the conveyance away, and Adrian would surely have their man by then. The spirited white horse danced toward her, and Sophia glanced at the animal again.

  Oh, she really shouldn’t.

  But she could already imagine the look on Adrian’s face as she dashed past him, driving the beautiful white phaeton and the strutting horse. She looked at the groom. He was watching her with a sideways glance. Af
ter all, a noblewoman was a bit out of place here. But Agent Saint wasn’t.

  “Excuse me.” She walked up to the groom, took the horse’s reins from his hands, and leapt into the phaeton’s box. The groom stared at her, too surprised to move for a long moment, and then when she snapped the reins and the horse jumped into action, he held up his hands and made a mad grab for the animal’s bridle.

  “Madam, what are you doing?”

  Sophia snapped the reins again, and the horse reared. He was anxious for a run, and she was more than willing to allow him to stretch his legs. “Get out of my way,” she called to the groom. “I need to borrow this carriage for a few moments.”

  “Absolutely not!” But he’d lost his grip on the horse’s bridle, and Sophia urged the beast down the alleyway. If she hurried, she could still catch Adrian before he caught their man.

  The groom made a last attempt to thwart her, jumping in front of the phaeton. Idiot! Did he want to be trampled? It was probably better than losing his position when his employer found out he’d lost the carriage.

  Sophia yanked on the reins, and the horse cut to the side, barely missing the groom.

  “I’ll have it returned to you!” Sophia called to the groom as she left him behind. He shook his fist and yelled something she assumed was not complimentary, and then she was directing the horse to take the opening on her left. But they were traveling too quickly, and the phaeton took the turn on only one of its two wheels. Sophia hung on, jouncing horribly when the airborne wheel hit the ground again. Up ahead was Conduit and her man. The street was rather crowded, far too crowded for her to emerge at this speed, but she’d rather take her chances than lose the shadow… or lose to Adrian.

  The magnificent animal jumped onto Conduit, narrowly missing a cart full of charcoal. Sophia prayed both wheels would stay on the ground as she negotiated yet another sharp turn. She was standing in the box, her legs braced apart, searching the wide-eyed, slack-jawed pedestrians for the man in the brown hat and green coat. She sped past Lady Ramsgate, chairwoman of the society for something or other, and Sophia gave her a jaunty wave. No doubt Lady Ramsgate would be removing Lady Smythe from their membership roster after this incident.

  No wonder she preferred working abroad. Far fewer complications.

  Up ahead, Sophia spotted a man running and slapped the reins. He’d lost his hat, and she frowned when she saw the dark blond hair. Why was Adrian running? Damn it! Had he caught their man already?

  Adrian reached for the closed back of a gig cutting through traffic, and Sophia immediately understood. Their man had realized their plan and was trying to escape. She slapped the reins again, called a warning to a man about to cross in front of her, swerved, narrowly avoiding him but jostling a cart and spilling potatoes in her wake.

  “Sorry!” She gave an apologetic wave to the cursing farmer then turned back just as she came alongside Adrian. He’d missed the gig and had fallen behind. “Jump on!” she called.

  For a moment, he stared at her as though he didn’t know her—that was a good sign, perhaps Lady Ramsgate hadn’t recognized her either—and then angled for her. She slowed just enough for him to grasp hold of the box and lever himself beside her.

  “Where the bloody hell did this come from?” he asked.

  “Providence. Is that our man up ahead?” She nodded to the gig swerving through carts and horses.

  “That’s him. Spotted me and stole it after a short tussle with the coachman.”

  “I like him already.” Sophia slapped the reins, and the phaeton gained on the gig.

  “We’ll never catch him,” Adrian said, hanging on to the seat to keep from bouncing out. “You might be faster, but he’s carrying one, and we’re—Good God! Watch out for the—”

  But she’d already seen the maid carrying three hatboxes and swerved around her. The maid was unscathed, but the hatboxes went flying, spilling their frilly contents in the middle of the street. Too bad. The one with the lavender ribbons looked most fetching.

  “We’ll catch him,” she assured Adrian. “I know how to drive.”

  “That’s debatable.”

  She glanced at him. “You’re welcome to try running again.”

  “Keep your eyes on the street! Sophia!”

  But her horse had a feel for her now, and he swerved around the slow carriage without her direction. With Adrian balancing the phaeton out, both wheels remained on the ground. They were gaining. Soon she’d be level with the gig lamps. Then it would just be a small matter of transferring the reins to Adrian, jumping to the gig, and restraining their man.

  The hard part would be deciding what to claim from Adrian as a prize for her victory. She could think of so many delicious rewards…

  Her beautiful white horse was now level with the gig’s hood, and she spurred the animal onward. The road before her was blissfully open, and she curled her fingers around the reins. “Twenty seconds,” she murmured. “Nineteen. Come on, come on…”

  Beside her, Adrian sat forward, and she could tell he was anticipating her victory as much as she. “A little closer,” he called.

  She swallowed her fear and steered her horse a fraction closer to the gig. In a moment the wheels would be almost touching. Fifteen seconds. “Come on.”

  She was watching the gig and didn’t see the cart right away. Adrian grabbed her hand, and when she looked up, she swore loudly and yanked the reins so hard she thought her muscles would pop. Adrian had her about the waist, to steady her, and the horse screamed. In front of them, a large cart, laden with furniture, backed slowly onto Conduit, the driver unaware of the chase heading directly for him.

  “We’re not going to make it!” Adrian predicted the same moment Sophia realized the same. She had no choice but to swerve onto the sidewalk or collide head-on with the lumbering cart. She closed her eyes and yanked the reins, praying anyone in their path would jump to safety. They bounced over the curb, hit something and rolled over it, then came to a clattering stop.

  Sophia opened her eyes again and looked about her. The horse was staring at a woman pinned against the wall of a bakery, while around them, flowers were strewn in piles and bunches. Sophia peeked behind her and saw they’d run over the flower girl’s basket. She, poor, thin thing, was staring at them, her blue eyes huge. Slowly, she bent to gather the flowers she could salvage.

  With a sigh, Sophia turned to the street and watched the gig dart through traffic and race out of sight. She sat with a thud and surveyed the damage around her.

  She glanced at Adrian. He had a daisy stuck in his hair and a carnation caught on his coat. He looked at her, clenched his jaw, and said, “Next time, I drive.”

  Sophia could barely suppress a grin.

  ***

  Lord Dewhurst’s ball was the last major event of the Season, or so Adrian had been assured by his valet. Why that warranted having his cravat tied, untied, and discarded three times, he had no idea. The man had wanted to give it another go, but Adrian had put his foot down. Marksby had looked as though he would pout the rest of the evening, and probably most of the next day, so Adrian had relented and allowed the man to fuss with his hair. When Marksby was finished, Adrian thought it looked exactly the same, but he complimented the man’s efforts anyway. He had enough to deal with without a peevish valet.

  Adrian paced the vestibule, aware Wallace was standing in the shadows, watching him. Not for the first time, Adrian wondered how much the butler knew of his and Sophia’s lives. Certainly he must suspect they were up to more than merely making morning calls when they returned with bits of flowers clinging to them and driving a phaeton that did not belong to them. But Wallace had merely nodded when Sophia instructed him to have their coachman return the conveyance with their apologies for the mistake in taking it.

  As though anyone with half a mind would mistake the elegant, one-of-a-kind horse and carriage for their own.

  They should have caught the man trailing them. Adrian had thought he had the shadow. He’d emer
ged over the wall, cut through the shop, and fell in step directly behind the man. But he must have given himself away or the man had been expecting him, because the next thing he knew, the man was in the gig and Adrian was running after him.

  He thought he’d lost him for sure, knew Sophia had absolutely no chance, until he’d heard the hooves of hell clopping behind him, turned, and saw his wife bearing down on him.

  God, she was beautiful. If Helios had a daughter, it would have been Sophia. She might not have set the earth on fire, but she’d certainly singed it a bit. Still, to see her in that one instant, it was worth the inconvenience of paying the flower girl for her lost wares, apologizing to the Duchess of Trembly—who they’d trapped between the horse and bakery glass—and dealing with the multitude of others who’d descended to complain about Sophia’s driving.

  She’d been standing, hair whipping in the wind like a hundred chocolate ribbons, cheeks flushed pink, eyes positively lit with excitement. Her cream-colored skirts flew around her legs like frothy clouds. In that moment, he’d wanted to shout to everyone she was his. And then she’d spotted him, and her mouth curved into the smile she reserved for him, and he’d felt his heart clench in a way it never had before.

  He could have taken her right there, right in the center of Conduit Street. If only he could have caught her.

  And when she slowed for him, he could do little but stare in amazement as she took every risk, every daring chance and then some. If he’d ever had a doubt she was Agent Saint, he didn’t now. It was bad luck they hadn’t caught the shadow. Bloody furniture cart. They’d get him next time. They could have been closing in on him and Jenkinson’s killer right now if it wasn’t for the bloody Dewhurst ball.

  When they’d returned, Adrian had arrowed for his library, but Marksby had intercepted him, just as Sophia’s lady’s maid had intercepted her, and they’d been whisked away to prepare for the evening.