Page 62 of His Wicked Secret
Every detail seemed to stand out to her now. The vestibule she and Avery entered had a staircase ascending between two rows of columns. Between each column hung a Grecian lamp, the light illuminating the crowds that milled about below. Audrey almost tumbled into Avery as men and women moved around them. It was a popular play tonight, and they would likely be seen by many people, which Avery had told her was his intention. When she had asked him to explain why, he’d pursed his lips into a frown and said he would only tell her once they were safely out of the theater.
As they ascended the stairs, they passed by several pilasters and soon came face-to-face with a statue of Shakespeare. The statue was fully costumed in clothing of his period, and he held a roll of paper in his hand, looking more like a barrister than a poet. Avery escorted her into a lower-tier box; the semicircular recess was filled with paintings from various Shakespeare plays in relief.
Audrey approached the front of the box, allowing her black shawl to drop around her elbows as she leaned over the edge to study the audience below her. From where she stood, she could admire the fretted gold flowers that ran along each theater box. Chandeliers of cut glass hung above the pillars separating them, painting gold rays over the massive theater.
“It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” Avery said as he joined her at the box’s edge.
“It is. I’ve been here a few times since my debut, yet I never tire of the sight.” The stage spread out before them, deep and wide, allowing actors to move about as well as ample space for elaborate scenery to be wheeled in as backdrops.
The sounds of the crowds in the back of the theater bounced off the walls, and a citrus fragrance lingered in the air. Young women in the galleries and the pit carried messages between parties and sold oranges. Usually the fruit acted as a treat for theatergoers, but sometimes the food would be tossed at the stage along with sticks and apples if a poor actor was put before them. Audrey never liked to see anyone pelted with oranges, but it did happen.
“Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll watch for our guest.” Avery escorted her to the trio of chairs in the box. She adjusted her skirts and took a seat. Avery disappeared, and Audrey tried to prepare her nerves. She wished she knew anything about the man she was going to meet, but Avery had said very little.
Be brave. You can do this. Avery wouldn’t have brought you here tonight if he didn’t believe you were ready. And you know how to protect yourself, thanks to Jonathan’s lessons. You aren’t helpless.
She turned when she heard the door open to their box. Avery returned, followed by a tall, handsome man with dark hair and brown eyes. “Miss Sheridan, allow me to present Mr. Daniel Sheffield.”
The man bowed over her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.
“A pleasure,” he said. His gaze moved over her with a certain intensity.
“You as well.” She looked between him and Avery, and both men sat. They waited in silence for the play to start. Once it did, the crowds were adequately distracted for the men to lean in toward her and begin their conversation.
“Our trip to France will be simple,” Avery whispered. “There’s a group of Englishmen who are planning to meet off the coast of Calais. Alias identities have been prepared, and messages vouching for us have been sent. We will infiltrate the reformists to learn what, if anything, they are plotting. Then, if need be, we move on to Paris and determine if they have any powerful political supporters in French society. That is where you come in, Miss Sheridan.”
“And what must I do?” Audrey was careful not to look at Avery, and she raised her fan, lightly flicking it over her face to hide her lips in case they were being watched.
“You will pose as Mr. Sheffield’s bride, under an alias of course. The two of you will act as self-imposed exiled English aristocrats who identify more with France’s ideals than England’s. You need to gain the trust of the French court so they will discuss freely with you any activities that threaten England.”
Audrey froze, her fan hovering about her face. “His bride?” She wondered what would happen if word of such a thing ever came back to London. Even under an alias, one could still be recognized. What would Jonathan think of her? Still, she supposed the whole object of their mission wasnotto be recognized. There was a moment of silence in their box, broken only by the obnoxious sound of an actor on stage belting out a bawdy song that made the crowd cheer.
“You need not be concerned,” Avery replied. “Word of such events is not meant to reach public ears. Your alias will protect your reputation here in England. But you cannot travel alone; that would raise too many questions. A newly married couple will not be at all suspicious.”
“Fear not, Miss Sheridan. I will maintain the strictest sense of propriety,” Daniel assured her.
“Thank you, Mr. Sheffield,” she whispered, hoping to assure him she was not put off by this new development. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, not only with the mission but the way his dark eyes studied her, as though he was more familiar with her than he should be.But that wasn’t her only concern. “I may be new to the ways of your department, but why are the reformists of any importance to England? It’s France’s problem, not ours, and I can’t imagine it’s out of a sense of charity or good will.”
The two men exchanged a look, and they even cracked a smile. Whether it was amusement or professional appreciation she had no idea.
“You’re quite right, Audrey,” said Avery. “But international relations can be a complex matter. For example, we trade heavily with them, and political instability might disrupt that.”
“Also, there are certain forms of instability that are…contagious,” added Sheffield. “The last thing England wants is a revolution.”
Audrey nodded her understanding.
“Very well then,” Avery said. “We leave tomorrow morning. TheLady’s Splendorwill set sail at noon. Bring one trunk with any clothes you need and whatever else you require.”
“TheLady’s Splendor,” she repeated the ship’s name. Part of her couldn’t believe this was actually happening. She was leaving for France on an actual spy mission.
She stayed for the rest of the play, as did the others, but her mind was miles away. What was Jonathan doing now? Had he cared at all that she’d left the party? Part of her worried that she’d covered her tracks too well. She’d told everyone she was off to help choose a wedding dress for a friend, which was something she certainly would do, but would Jonathan believe it? Or would he be surprised that she’d left after everything that had happened between them? She wished he, not Mr. Sheffield, was the man she would be masquerading with as a married couple. Audrey did not want to think about what would happen if something went wrong on this mission. None of her family or friends would learn what had happened to her until it was too late.
This is what you wanted, remember? To serve your country. To do something more important than write society columns. To make a difference. To grow up.
Yet all she could think was that she wanted to be back with Jonathan, back with her family and planning her next Lady Society article. But she was too afraid to give up and walk away now.
She looked to the stage, at the actors reciting their lines, living different lives twice a day for two or so hours. In a way what she would be doing was no different, only there was no rehearsal, and opening night would have to go off without a hitch. Otherwise the audience would do more to her than throw fruit.
After the play, Avery escorted her home. She had an upstairs maid assist her in packing a trunk of clothes with instructions to have it taken to the docks at eleven the next morning. They packed a wardrobe fit for a newly married Englishwoman who would be favoring French fashions over those of her own country. It would assist her with any French aristocrats they would run into.
