Page 6 of To Love A Spy
“Forgive me,” muttered Lynsley. “Men like Whitney, who are ruled by arrogance rather than intelligence, are particularly annoying. Especially when the women they so disparage are expected to ride to their rescue.”
“I am sorry to put you in such a damnably difficult position. But I have no choice.”
“I know, Henry.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll come up with something.”
The Secretary gave a ghost of a smile. “You always do.”
You always do.
The drumbeat of his steps seemed a mocking echo of the words as Lynsley traversed the warren of Whitehall corridors leading down to his own suite of offices. Despite his avowal to Bathurst, he was not feeling overly sanguine about the chances of cobbling together a successful plan. A mission of this magnitude required months of meticulous planning. Proper reconnaissance, lines of supply, safe houses, support staff . . . And even then, there were a myriad of things that could go wrong.
It would take an act of God to pull off a miracle at this late moment.
Slouching into his desk chair, he absently picked up the sheaf of documents on his blotter. Numerous people owed him numerous favors, but even if he called in?—
His eyes fell on the top paper. After reading the scrawled message, he tapped thoughtfully at his chin.
Perhaps he did have a guardian angel after all.
It would take a good deal of luck, as well as divine intervention, but if he moved fast, the idea just might be turned into the answer to his prayers.
Chapter Two
“Idon’t see that I have any choice, Charlotte.” As he spoke, Lynsley looked around the headmistress’s office. How long had Mrs. Merlin’s Academy for Extraordinary Young Ladies been in existence? Had it really been two decades?
Time flies, he thought with a wry grimace. Lord, he had been barely older than the current students of the Master Class when he had come up with the idea of a secret school for spies—female spies.
Yes, he had been young—and too brimming with hubris and optimism to conceive of how impossible the idea was. His lips curled up at the corners. Perhaps that was why it had, against all odds, succeeded. He had simply refused to accept ‘no’ as an answer, despite all the rational arguments against it.
He rubbed at his brow, suddenly aware of the grey hairs beginning to tinge his temples.
Mrs. Merlin sighed as she served him a helping of tea and strawberry tarts. “So you say, Thomas. And yet, sometimes I wonder . . .”
“Wonder what?” he asked.
“Whether you are secretly craving a return to action.”
His smile became a touch more pronounced. “You think I’m too old for the game?”
“Too valuable,” replied the headmistress with her usual pragmatism. “Surely there must be an alternative to risking yourself in such a dangerous mission.”
“If you have a suggestion, I am open to hearing it.”
For a moment, Mrs. Merlin’s face was half obscured by the steam rising up from the teapot. With her delicate features and dove-gray hair drawn back in a simple chignon, the elderly lady looked frail as a feather. But Lynsley knew her far too well to be deceived by appearances. The headmistress of Mrs. Merlin’s Academy for Extraordinary Young Ladies was still sharp enough to show her pupils a thing or two about handling a sword or a pistol. Even now, he could see the point of a poniard poking out from beneath her lace cuff.
“We might consider Verona,” mused Mrs. Merlin. “She has both the skills and the nerve to succeed in a mission like this.”
“I am all too familiar with her cockiness and her courage.” Lynsley sighed, and then shook his head. “But no, even though she’s the best we have, she’s not ready to match wits with an experienced killer like Rochambert. I can’t in good conscience give her the order.”
“Then perhaps you should simply tell the Secretary to look elsewhere for help,” said the headmistress. “Some things are impossible, even for us. As we teach our girls, there are times when it is best to back away and wait for a more opportune moment.”
“I made a stab at saying no,” he replied wryly. “But Bathurst is under extreme pressure from the government to do something about the situation, no matter the risks. He’s supported me many times in the past when I was under fire. I can hardly refuse to return the favor.”
“He won’t thank you if you end up in a French prison.” Mrs. Merlin brushed a bit of powdered sugar from her lip. “Or worse.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” murmured Lynsley dryly.
She fixed him with a searching stare. “All jesting aside, Thomas. Do you truly believe you can succeed?”
