Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies]

London 1814

T
he night air was cold and crisp, but Emily Redgrave hardly felt it as she pushed the door open and stepped silently onto the icy parapet. Tonight she didn’t care about the chill of one of the worst winters on record. She was escaping her prison. Finally, months of planning, weeks of work, were about to come to fruition. In a few short moments, she would be free.

Her heart pounded as she adjusted the heavy cloak around her shoulders and insured that the dark hood covered her hair so the fair color wouldn’t be obvious in the darkness. She hadn’t had time to perform her usual preparations of costume and disguise. It was this moment or never if she wanted to get out.

Carefully, she pushed herself up onto the slick ledge. Balancing there, she glanced down at the garden far below. A long drop, so she hoped her makeshift rope, bound together from bed sheets she had been secreting away, would hold.

She squatted to secure one end of the rope to the stone slats on the terrace wall, then swung down off the ledge. She cupped her feet together around the knot where she’d tied the first and second sheet and let out a sigh of relief when she dangled safely.

Well, she hadn’t come crashing to the ground yet. That was a positive sign. Now she just had to shimmy down fifteen feet or so and she would be on her way to blessed freedom.

Inch by inch, she scooted down the sheet, always keeping her hands or feet gripped around a knot in her homemade ladder. From time to time, she glanced down, her breath steaming up around her cheeks as the ground moved ever closer and closer.

A gust of wind stirred and the sheets swung. She clung to the soft fabric as she swayed, still far enough from the ground that a fall would hurt like a bugger if she landed improperly. She had only just recovered from injuries, the last thing she needed was more bed rest. She would surely go mad.

Finally, the biting wind died down and she continued her trek. When her boots hit the ground beneath her, it took all her willpower not to crow with triumph. One more daring escape concluded, her first in many months. She gathered her cloak closer and spun on her heel toward the garden gate and the busy street outside.

Only to find herself facing a man. Charles Isley lifted the lantern in his gloved hand and gave her a look that could not be misinterpreted, even in the dim light.

“Emily,” he growled, dragging her name out in frustration.

She stomped her foot, despite how childish the reaction was. Shoving her hood away to reveal her face, she glared at him. “Good evening, Charlie.”

“Come inside.” He motioned to the French doors that led from the garden into the parlor. It was a command, not a request, and since he was her superior she had no choice but to follow that order.

She sighed as she entered the bright, warm room. She’d been so damn close. Charlie shut and latched the doors behind him as she flopped into the nearest wing-back chair and folded her arms in a final act of defiance.

“Emily, Emily…” he began with a shake of his head as he poured two tumblers of sherry. Handing her one, he took the chair across from hers and simply
stared
at her.

She pursed her lips as she tried to suppress the swell of emotion in her chest. Damn him. He could always make her feel so guilty when she broke protocol or became overzealous about a case. Now he was doing that in spades. She ground her teeth. She would
not
apologize.

“How did you know?” she asked instead, setting the untouched liquor aside.

Charlie didn’t get a chance to answer before the door to the parlor opened. Emily looked up as her two best friends, Meredith Archer and Anastasia Tyler entered the room.

Meredith folded her arms and speared Emily with another glance meant to fill her with guilt. And damn if it didn’t succeed.

“We
told him,” her friend admitted without a hint of remorse in her tone.

Emily gripped her hands into fists in her lap. Her nails bit into her palms. “And just how did
you
two figure out my plan, eh?”

Anastasia laughed as she and Meredith took positions on the nearest settee. “As if we would tell you!”

Meredith nodded. “Yes. The more details we provide, the more you’ll use them to your advantage the next time you decide to sneak out of the house into the night.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed. This all seemed very rehearsed. Clearly, the three of them had known of her plans for escape for some time and had readied themselves for the showdown once she made her move. It was infuriating! Six months ago, she wouldn’t have been caught by anyone.

Six months ago, everything was different.

She shook away those thoughts, along with the overwhelming swell of anxiety that accompanied them. They couldn’t sense her fear or she would be worse off than she already was.

“Very well, let me see if I can deduce it. It was the bedsheets that gave me away, wasn’t it?”

Ana laughed and Emily knew she’d struck onto her failure. For weeks, she had been playing a cat and mouse game with the maids. Clearly, someone had talked about the missing sheets and word had gotten back to her sister spies. Before Ana’s recent marriage, she had lived with Emily for several years. No doubt the maids would report any strange behavior to her friend if asked.

And instead of confronting Emily herself, as Ana would have done in the past, her friend had gone to Meredith and Charlie. To protect her.

Protection was the last thing Emily wanted. Or needed. She was smothered by their mothering and worrying. And their doubts only made her own fears that much louder in her head.

Charlie pulled out his pipe and pressed it between his lips. “Does it really matter how we uncovered your plan to
escape
this house?”

Emily shrugged. Aside from the utter humiliation of being discovered, it probably didn’t. What mattered was what was going to come of this situation.

“So what is to be my punishment?” she asked, leaning back in her chair as she grasped the tumbler of sherry from the table beside her and swirled the drink gently. “The gallows? The rack? Will I be transported to Australia?” Charlie smiled at her dry questions, but Emily didn’t allow him to interrupt. “Or will you condemn me to the worst fate of all? Keep me locked in this house, unable to do my duties. Will you continue to keep me from taking assignments?”

At that, Charlie’s smile fell, Meredith winced and Anastasia let out a low groan. The muscles in Emily’s shoulders bunched with tension. She hated having this argument as much as they all did.

“No one is
trying
to hurt you, dearest,” Ana said, rising to her feet and pacing around the room.

Emily watched her restless movements. The waves of worry and fear came off of her friend with every step. Ana had always been protective of Emily, but it had gotten worse since Emily was shot and since her marriage. Ana had been off with her husband, Lucas Tyler, who was a spy, too.
He
was her partner now. Just as Meredith’s husband, Tristan, was a spy. Both her best friends had new lives.

And Emily had been left behind.

She surged to her feet at that painful thought. “You aren’t
trying
to hurt me, but you are. Damn it, I’m a spy! I was born to do this job, even if I didn’t know it until you approached me all those years ago, Charlie.”

He looked at her, a small smile tilting his lips, but she could see from his expression that he was only humoring her.

“How long must I be relegated to this house and kept from the field?”

She had a powerful urge to throw her tumbler against the wall, just to get their attention. But they would probably take such an outburst as further evidence of her instability.

“You weren’t injured that long ago,” Charlie said softly. “I worry about putting you back into the field so soon when I’m not certain that you’ve recovered fully.”

Emily paced away with a snort of disgust. She had been shot during a case over six months ago. Yes, the wounds had been painful—and were sometimes still painful, though she refused to admit that, even when her friends saw the evidence.

But there were deeper reasons for sequestering her from the field. She had overheard Charlie talking to Ana one night. He’d told her friend that he feared Emily had been damaged beyond mere physical injury. That she wasn’t the same girl she had been before that bullet ripped through her body.

Emily flinched at the memory, because she knew the comment was true. Some nights she woke screaming. Sometimes she found herself flashing to the terrifying moment of impact. And
that
was why she wanted to return to the field so desperately. She had to prove to herself, as well as to the others, that she could still do her duty.

It was all she had left. She couldn’t lose it.

She turned back to him, blinking away the tears that suddenly, frustratingly, filled her eyes.

“Charlie,” she whispered, clenching her fingers in and out of tight fists as she fought to manage her emotions. “Please. Being a spy is what Meredith loves. It is what Ana became when circumstances forced it. But a spy is what I
am
. It is my soul and I shall go mad without it. I need to work again. I’m begging you.”

Charlie looked at her for a long, heavy moment, then his gaze flitted to the other two women. Tears streamed down Ana’s cheeks and Meredith was quiet, her head dipped and face lined with worry.

He sighed. “You are determined to do this.”

She nodded, too thrilled to keep from revealing her eagerness. This was the first time Charlie hadn’t refused her outright. “I am.”

He shook his head slowly. “I
do
have a case I planned to give to Meredith, but the War Department recently asked Tristan to do some work in the North Country and she will be accompanying him in a few weeks. The case I had in mind may require more time than that.”

Emily nearly went to her knees with relief. “Yes, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything. What is the case?”

Charlie motioned to the chair she had vacated and she sat down on the edge, leaning forward with anticipation tightening her chest. There was also potent fear, but she ignored that. She could mask it. She had to.

“Are you familiar with Lord Westfield?” he asked.

“Grant Ashbury? Yes.” She nodded as she thought of the man in question. She’d met him a few times in passing, though they had never talked for more than a brief, polite moment.

“We’ve intercepted some very threatening communications regarding him.” Charlie frowned. “We need an agent to follow him, watch out for him, perhaps even intervene if he’s attacked.”

Her eyes went wide. “
Grant Ashbury
needs protection?” she repeated in disbelief.

It wasn’t the idea that the man was being threatened that she doubted. Westfield was both powerful and well known. No doubt the man had enemies. But it was the idea that he needed a guard that didn’t ring true.

For one thing, he was enormous. At well over six feet in height, Westfield generally towered over most crowds. He was muscular, too. Anyone with eyes could see that he was no ninnified dandy who padded his clothing.

“I concede it sounds ridiculous, given his physical and mental condition,” Charlie said. “But it is true. The problem is that Westfield isn’t aware he’s being threatened. He’s not on the lookout for an attack, so despite his strength and intelligence, he might not be able to prevent injury to himself or those around him.”

She cocked her head. “Why not just inform him of the danger? Allow him to protect himself?”

Meredith was the one who answered. “I did a good amount of research on the man when I was first assigned the case. Apparently, Westfield loves the thrill of danger. He takes risks like they are a game to him. We fear if we share this information, he might take it as a challenge.”

Emily nodded. She could understand Westfield’s feelings completely. She, herself, loved danger…or she had before she was attacked. She had courted it every day, taking the most dangerous and physically challenging cases their group was offered.

Only she had been trained to handle the consequences and Westfield had not. In a flash, he could find himself overwhelmed by what had once been a lark to him.

“Who is threatening him and why?”

Ana was the one who shrugged now. “That’s the other part of our problem. We just don’t know. That will be something you’ll have to determine.”

Charlie met her gaze squarely. “What do you think, Emily? Is this a case you would be interested in pursuing?”

She hesitated. These kinds of investigations, ones that didn’t involve protection of King and Country, normally didn’t appeal to her. She didn’t want to play nursemaid to an undoubtedly spoiled rake who liked to put himself in harm’s way as a diversion. But if she refused the assignment, she might not have another chance to reenter the field for months. Doing this, protecting this man and uncovering the source of the threats against him, could prove to Charlie and Lady M that she was ready for real work again.

If nothing else, it was a way to occupy her spinning mind.

She nodded. “Of course I’ll take the case.”

Charlie got to his feet with a smile. “Very good. Tomorrow night Westfield’s mother is holding a ball. I shall arrange for you to be invited. In the meantime, I’ll leave you with Meredith and Ana to go over the facts of the case and ready yourself. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to contact me for further details.”

Charlie nodded to them all and headed for the door, but before he could leave, Emily said, “Charlie?”

He turned back and she met his eyes. They were filled with kindness, concern for her, and the caring of a father. Her heart ached seeing those things. Certainly her real family had never shown her such tender emotions. That was why the Society was so important to her. Why she could not lose it. She crossed the room to him and wrapped her arms around him.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she hugged him.

When she pulled back, he smiled at her, surprised by the gesture and clearly moved by it as well. Then he shook off the reaction.