Page 11 of The Mysterious Miss Lydia
Like a woman who’d been caught. Those earlier suspicions were back in full force. His mind volleyed back and forth between Richard’s assurance that he was looking for intrigue where there was none.
But he hadn’t succeeded in his work for so many years without honing a keen instinct about these sorts of things.
Someone at the Home Office had leaked sensitive information that only few people in his world would have access to. And leaks were insidious. They did not just go away, they had to be sussed out and the holes plugged or they only got worse.
“Were you listening to us talk?” he asked, careful to keep his voice quiet. Gentle.
Her lips closed, then opened, then closed again. With wide eyes, she nodded, a pink flush sweeping through her cheeks.
He guarded himself against sympathy for the poor little chit. It wouldn’t be the first or last time a knave employed the use of a pretty lady for his dirty work.
“Why are you hiding here, little mouse?” he said, hoping to soften the words with a teasing tone.
She blinked at him, her lips pinched shut.
“You weren’t eavesdropping, were you?”
She inhaled swiftly and she said something in a whisper that he could only just make out. “I...hear ...” and maybe, “First.”
“Pardon?” Her first time snooping? Her first assignment?
Her chest rose and fell so quickly he felt certain she would faint.
“Look here, miss, there’s no need to be so alarmed. I only want to know what you’re doing back here listening in on conversations.”
He stepped closer and something clattered to the ground. A book.
He moved forward to snatch it up just as she crouched down to grab it. And then there they were. Heads so close he could feel the soft warmth of her breath on his cheek, their fingers touching as they both gripped the edges of the novel, a soft floral scent so lovely and light filling his nose and addling his senses.
But then she shot up. If he hadn’t moved back she would have clocked him on her way up. And he was still crouching there with her book in his hands. He rose as well, but far slower and with what he hoped was an encouraging smile.
Her gaze, however, was fixed on the book and she looked frightened. Perhaps even in despair at him having the item. He glanced down. “Demetrius and Elsbeth: A Romantic Adventure,” he read aloud. He arched a brow as a bell seemed to signal in the back of his mind.
He’d heard this name before.
And with a jolt he remembered. This was the title of the book that correspondence had quoted.
This was it. The same book.
Could this possibly be a coincidence?
He thought not.
But before he could say so much as a word, she shocked him into silence by leaning forward and snatching the book straight out of his hands.
“Wait,” he started.
But it was too late. His mystery woman was racing down the path and seconds later she was lost in the crowd.
He was left standing there gaping after her with more questions than when he’d first approached. After a long moment he finally headed out of the shadows and toward his townhome, his mind whirring with thoughts of that odd girl and her strange silence. To himself he murmured, “What in blazes was that?”
4
Lydia’s maid had fallen so far behind, she worried the poor girl was lost.
She paused to look back over her shoulder and smiled at the sight of Kitty looking around her distractedly.
It wasn’t the first time the girl had acted as a companion on one of her long walks to Whitehall, and the girl claimed to like the exercise, but each time Kitty seemed overwhelmed by all the new sights and sounds outside their neighborhood.
