Page 2 of My Gentleman Spy
Chapter Two
WillSaunders leaned back against the rock wall of the Port of Gibraltar and closed his eyes. The warmth of the sun seeped deep into his bones. For all that he longed to return home to England, he knew it would be the warm weather of Europe he missed the most once heleft.
All those long years spent in Paris as an undercover operative for His Majesty's government now seemed a lifetimeago.
Yet it was only last month that he had finally packed up his things, given notice to his landlady, Madame Dessaint and vacated his lodgings in Paris. Treating himself to a farewell tour of the now peaceful cities of lower France and Spain he planned for his journey to end with a boat trip back toLondon.
London.
He shivered at the prospect of facing the forthcoming Englishwinter.
“Oh well it has to be,” he murmured. His fingers caressed the warm stone sea wall of thedock.
For five years he had been away. Years which had seen him change forever. The young man who had slipped into Paris in the summer of 1812 was long gone. Too self-assured bordering on arrogant, he had quickly learned the truth of life as a spy. Living on the knife's edge, knowing that at any moment there could be a knock at the door and his mortal existence would be at anend.
A spy's greatest hope was that when it did come, death would be quick. Only those whom fate had completely abandoned were faced with arrest and the inevitable journey to the scaffold and an audience with MadameGuillotine.
Will opened his eyes. The bright sun had him blinking hard to focus. He put a hand to his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart. He sighed, grateful that he, unlike so many others, had been fortunate enough to escape that terriblefate.
If the damp weather in England was the worst he had to deal with for the rest of his life, he would be blessed. He lifted his head from the wall and sat upright, before indulging in a long, tension releasingstretch.
The wind from the sea blew through his linen shirt and chilled his still damp skin. A short while earlier, he had taken a leisurely swim in the harbor. Seated now on an upturned wooden crate at the bottom of a series of steep stone steps he could hear the local Spanish traders as they beckoned for all comers to buy their wares at the Friday morning market which was taking place in the town squareabove.
He rummaged around in his leather satchel, which sat on the stone paving next to him, and pulled out a small knife and an orange which he had purchased earlier that morning in the market. After peeling off the dimpled skin of the succulent fruit, he stuffed a piece of the orange into his mouth. A smile crept to his lips as he relished the sweet citrus juice. With his thumb he wiped a stray trickle of juice from hislips.
“That is good,” hemurmured.
Days from now he would be home in England, and back in the rarefied air of London high society. These simple days would be pleasant, but ever distant memories to cherish as he tried to re-establish himself within thehauteton.
Letters from his parents and family had offered all manner of assistance once he had made known his intention to return home permanently. His brother and sisters would no doubt make every effort to see him well set oncemore.
He missed his family. How much he missed them had been brought home during his brief summer visit back to London earlier thatyear.
Instinctively he reached for his left hand, his fingers searching for his wedding ring. They touched only skin, and the ridge where once a ring had been. He flinched momentarily before remembering his recent decision to take itoff.
Yvette wasdead.
Three years and eight months. He had stopped counting the days, but even now he was unsure as to whether he was truly ready to move on. To finally accept that his wife was gone. To allow the ghost of his guilt to rest inpeace.
A movement on the horizon caught his eye. A ship which had left the nearby dockside only a short while earlier, turned portside. He recalled seeing the last of the ship’s passengers scramble on board theBlade of Orion. She was a sturdy, though not overly large sea going vessel. He sent a silent prayer to those on board, wishing them a safe journey. She was bound forAfrica.
Only the brave and steady of heart made the perilous journey to Africa. Apart from the countries which bordered the Mediterranean Sea, the African continent was largely unknown. Many had left Europe seeking their fortunes in that vast land, only to be never heard from again. Africa was known as the white man’s graveyard with goodreason.
He was about to turn away and put his boots and jacket back on when something else caught hisattention.
He could see someone crawling along what appeared to be the raised gangplank of the ship. Will frowned at this rather dangerous occupation. The life of a sailor was fraught with peril. As he put a hand up to shade his eyes from the bright morning sun, he squinted to get a betterlook.
As the person reached the end of the gangplank they sat down. Will's breath caught in his throat at the sight of long skirts draped over the edge of the plank. It was not a sailor; it was awoman.
“What the devil are you up to?” hemuttered.
The words had barely left his lips when to his horror, the woman dropped over the side of the ship and fell into the water below. She disappeared beneath thewaves.
For a moment Will stood rooted to the spot, struck motionless as his brain struggled to accept what his eyes had just beheld. From where he stood, he could see no one else on board the ship had seen the womanfall.
The crew continued about their business of preparing and setting the sails, oblivious to the crisis which was unfolding. He frantically called out to the ship, but his voice was carried away on thewind.
The woman was now alone with her fate. Only he could possibly saveher.
