by Shana Galen
“Neither of us,” he answered with a glance at Melbourne. Adrian looked back at Sophia.
“We’ll come back only if we can work together,” she added. “We’re partners now.”
“Until you have two spots, we’re retired.” Adrian reached for his walking stick and levered himself to his feet. He hated having to rely on it, but until his leg was healed, it was a necessary evil.
“You’re retired?” Melbourne said with a laugh.
“The day you retire is the day the prince regent finds some sense,” Liverpool added. “I don’t believe it.”
Ten days ago, Adrian wouldn’t have believed it either. He wouldn’t have believed his wife was Agent Saint or that he could love her—even all her ramblings about intuition—so completely. He wouldn’t have believed he would walk away from the Barbican group, but that was exactly what he was doing.
And he’d never been happier.
Sophia was smiling too, her face lit up with the same happiness he felt. “Good day,” Sophia said to Melbourne and Liverpool as she and Adrian reached the door. Adrian followed her into the hallway. They nodded at other agents and staff moving purposefully about, and then they were stepping out of the dark building and into the afternoon sunshine of Pall Mall. Adrian signaled for the carriage. He’d stood in this same spot three weeks ago, feeling alone and defeated.
He looked down and saw his hand was still entwined with Sophia’s. Neither of them was alone anymore. And together…
Together, what couldn’t they do?
***
Sophia pulled her rust-colored spencer close about her as the breeze whipped the skirts of her gold gown. Fall was coming, and she was glad. It had been a long summer. She looked at Adrian.
“Are we really retired?” he asked.
“It appears that way.”
“What a fortunate day for Prinny, then. A sensible man at last.”
“Yes.”
She saw the hint of a smile on his lips. “Of course, there is still the matter of Foncé.”
There was that. She’d done some research—quite a bit of questioning and probing actually. “I have it on good authority Foncé is on his way to Lisbon.”
“Lisbon.” Adrian nodded, considering. She watched the way his jaw clenched, knew he wanted another chance with Foncé. She did as well. They had unfinished business.
“I’ve always liked Lisbon in the autumn,” she said.
“Who doesn’t?”
She laughed. He was so perfect for her. Right there, in the middle of the Mall, she put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. An older woman with her lady’s maid gasped and hurried by, but Sophia didn’t care. “Have I ever told you I love you?”
Adrian blinked at her. “No, but I surmised as much when you wouldn’t leave me to Foncé’s devices.”
“Did you?” She laughed again. Really, what had she expected him to say?
She was about to release him, but he curled a hand around her waist. “Have I told you I love you?”
She had to force herself to breathe and hope her heart began to beat again. She hadn’t realized how much she needed those words from him. “No, but I surmised as much when you…” Oh, she was never any good at surmising… or deducing and hypothesizing, for that matter! “Oh, everything you do tells me you love me, Adrian.”
He took her mouth with his, and she thought she would never catch her breath again. Someone hooted, and a child cried, “Mommy, look over there!”
“I think we’re making a scene,” she said.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
They pulled apart, but he held onto her hand. They stood in silence for a moment, and then he cleared his throat, searching for a topic of conversation, she supposed. It was either that or tear one another’s clothes off.
“So is Lisbon next?” he asked. The carriage was slowing before them. “Or shall we embark on some other adventure first?”
“Hmm.” She watched the footman open the carriage door and lower the steps, and on impulse said, “Lisbon might be next. Or, we could always try parenthood.”
The look on his face was worth a hundred opportunities with Foncé. She had been debating whether or not to say anything. The familiar signs were present, but it was still too soon to be certain she was with child and far too soon to know if the pregnancy would be successful. But she felt different about this pregnancy.
Hopeful.
Adrian was still staring at her, openmouthed. She laughed and climbed into the carriage, her laugh abruptly dying when she spotted Agent Blue seated on the squabs.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Adrian climbed into the carriage after her. “Are you saying—?”
“We have company, Agent Wolf.” Sophia sat across from Blue and pulled Adrian down beside her.
“How the hell did you get in here?” Adrian asked.
Blue studied his gloves. “I dare say you would like to know, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.”
“I heard you have retired from the Barbican group,” Blue said.
“How could you have possibly heard that?” Sophia asked. “We just decided it ourselves.”
Blue gave her a look.
“Never mind. Of course you know. The last time we met in a carriage like this, you told me I no longer had a position. This time I’ve retired on my own.”
“Quite so, but I also gave you another opportunity.” He reached into his citron coat—Lord, it was awful—and produced a heavy cream card. Sophia took it, glanced at the address and the hand-printed midnight. She handed it to Adrian.
“Another midnight rendezvous?” he asked, but Blue was already climbing out of the carriage.
“What do you think?” she asked. “Should we go?”
Adrian put the card in his coat, but she didn’t think she mistook the look of interest in his eyes. She knew she didn’t misinterpret the quickening in her own pulse.
He tapped his walking stick on the roof, and the carriage lurched forward. “Let’s decide later. We might have more important tasks to attend to at midnight.”
“There are still several hours before midnight,” she pointed out. “Plenty of time for whatever you have in mind.”
He arched a brow. “You don’t know everything I have in mind.”
“Then perhaps we should begin right away.”
He pulled her into his arms. “Madam, for once, you and I are in agreement.” Lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed her.
Acknowledgments
Every time I write a book, my acknowledgments page grows longer. I may sit alone, lost in my own thoughts, tapping away on my computer, but I feel like I have a dozen people standing behind me, supporting me and encouraging me (and after you read this, you may wish I’d stopped at a dozen).
First of all, I’d like to thank Sourcebooks. This will sound cliché, but they really are more like a family than a publishing house. I’m so lucky to be able to work with Deb Werksman, a fabulous editor and wonderful lady. I’m fortunate to work with Dominique Raccah, who makes me feel like I’m the most important author she has. And then there’s Danielle Jackson, Susie Benton, Cat Clyne, and Skye Agnew. You ladies rock! Thank you for all you do for me. I’m sure there are others whose names I don’t know, and I want to thank you as well for all your hard work on my behalf.
I think I have the best agents in the world. Danielle Egan-Miller and Joanna MacKenzie have believed in me from the beginning. Your advice on writing, parenting, and everything in-between is invaluable. Thank you for fighting for me, steering me in the right direction, and dropping everything to work for me (including interrupting family vacations). Thanks also to Lauren Olson. I have a feeling you do way more than we authors know about.
This is a novel I’ve wanted to write for a long time. It’s a book of the heart, as we writers say. Several people have answered my questions and been willing to read my sketchy initial drafts and offer insight and critiques. Thank you to Linda Andrus, who
read an early version and helped me make major changes. Thank you to my critique partners, Christina Hergenrader and Tera Lynn Childs for reading closely and suggesting improvements. And thanks to everyone who supports me and cheers me on—the members of West Houston RWA, especially Sharie Kohler and Vicky Dreiling; the Sisterhood of the Jaunty Quills, especially Robyn DeHart, Kristan Higgins, Margo Maguire, and Emily McKay; and the Casababes. I also want to thank my longtime web designer, maddee at xuni.com. I love working with you, maddee!
Finally, I wouldn’t be able to write without the support of my husband, Mathew. 143.
About the Author
Shana Galen is the author of numerous fast-paced, adventurous Regency historical romances, including the 2008 RITA-nominated Blackthorne’s Bride and The Making of a Gentleman, RT Book Reviews’s 2010 Reviewers’ Choice for Historical K.I.S.S. Hero. Her books have been sold worldwide, including Brazil, Russia, Spain, Turkey, Japan, and the Netherlands, and have been featured in the Rhapsody and Doubleday Book Clubs. A former English teacher in Houston’s inner city, Shana now writes full time. She’s a wife, a mother, and an expert multitasker. She loves to hear from readers: visit her website at www.shanagalen.com or see what she’s up to daily on Facebook and Twitter.
