Page 3 of A Lady's Handbook of Espionage
“You walked in exactly forty-three minutes after the dancing started. Late enough to make an entrance, but not so late to be remembered as rude. You danced with Henderson first – old money. Then Parkington, whose wife is conveniently visiting her mother. Both men who wouldn’t notice if you took their wallets, their watches, and their dignity all at once.”
He skated his hand down to settle at the base of her spine. “But that back of yours,” he continued, “it never relaxes. Not even when you laugh. I’d wager you’ve practised that delicate blush in the mirror for hours. Three times tonight, same downward glance.” He lifted a brow. “How close am I to the mark?”
Surprise flickered in her face. She huffed a little laugh as they swayed. “Youhavebeen watching closely.”
“I don’t suppose you’d do me the very great honour of sharing something real? A name, a favourite flower, your preferrednom de guerre. Let’s have a proper introduction.”
“Names are just sounds people make to get your attention. Mine have all served their purpose.”
“That so, Miss D’Aramitz?”
Her eyes flared. “You have me confused with someone else. Flattered as I am by your attentions.”
“The thing about lies is that they multiply. First there’s one, then three, then twenty. Soon, you need a ledger to keep track of them all. But I can always list them for you, if you’d like. The diamonds in Barcelona. The pearls in Vienna. We could talk about the heiress in Rome or the countess in Prague. Every few months, there’s been a new woman with a new story. Different names, different hair colours, different languages. It’s a remarkable collection of faces you’ve acquired.”
A muscle ticced in her jaw. “Do you have a point to make, or do you just enjoy the sound of your voice?”
“My point is that I know you better than anyone else in this room. I’ve been following your trail across two continents. We’re old friends by now.”
Her expression was cold and assessing. “You do have a way with words.”
“So I’ve been told. Most people mention it right before they try to knock my teeth out.”
“You don’t need to worry about violence from me. Unless that’s what you’re hoping for.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. You haven’t answered my question.”
“Which one? You’ve made so many baseless insinuations that I’m afraid I’ve quite lost track.” She slanted a look at the open terrace doors. “Best if we resume thistête-à-têtesomewhere more private, hmm?”
Callahan gave a nod. “After you.”
The glass-paned doors clicked shut, and he backed her against the ivy-covered wall, both hands braced on either side of her head. She met his stare, back straight. As regal as a queen.
“Well?” she asked mockingly.
“Your name.” He lowered his head until their faces were inches apart. “The real one.”
She smiled slowly. “Spectre.”
“And I’m the fucking Prince of Wales.”
“You’re not nearly blue-blooded enough to reach that high. What do you want from me?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it? See, I’ve got a bit of a quandary on my hands. There’s a rather princely sum being offered for information leading to your capture. Enough to keep me in tailored suits and passable whiskey for years to come.”
She didn’t flinch from the threat. “Then why haven’t you clapped me in irons already?”
He reached out to wind one of her curls around his finger. “We’re having such a fine time, I thought I’d savour it.”
He didn’t see it coming. One second, he was looming over her, the next, his back slammed against the wall. She pressed a knife to his throat. Where had she even hidden that thing?
Her cheeks were flushed, chest heaving. He’d never seen anything so terrifyingly beautiful.
“Problem, Agent?” She grinned. “Not quite how you imagined the evening progressing? What will you do now, I wonder?”
The blade bit deeper.
Callahan kept very still. “I’m open to suggestions.”
