Too Hot For A Spy. Pearl WolfЧитать онлайн книгу.
room.
“Forgive me everyone. I was unavoidably detained at the home office.”
“Father is very angry with you, Livy,” said eight-year-old Jane, understating the duke’s sentiments by several degrees. The chubby child had a round, cherubic face. Freckles danced up to her green eyes, her red hair plaited with ribbons. She reached for another sweetmeat.
“Be silent, Jane, before you find yourself banished to the schoolroom when the family dines alone.” Though he made every effort, the duke could not bring himself to love his youngest daughter.
At fifty-six years of age, he retained his good looks but for the hair graying at his temples and his faded blue eyes. Even so, the family resemblance between him and his eldest daughter was remarkable. He turned his attention back to her. “You’re late again, Livy.”
“I beg your pardon, Father. Forgive me, but it was vital that I finish my work before I left the office.”
“Saved the empire from invasion this day, did you?”
She ignored his sarcasm. Instead, she looked around at her mother and her sisters, and realized all eyes were upon her. She allowed the footman to fill her plate with beef and vegetables, and summoned another to fill her wineglass.
“My apologies for being late, Mother. I should have been home in time, but for a foolish accident. You see…”
“Run over by a mail cart, were you?” The duke’s snide remark stung his intended target.
Olivia glared at him and emptied her wineglass in one swallow. “No, Father. I was putting away important papers, my last task of the day, when this strange man came barreling round the corner of the hall and knocked me down. I went sprawling and so did my day’s work. I was forced to stay late to sort them all out again, you see.”
“Serves you right,” he grumbled, but that brought a warning look from his wife.
The duchess, a celebrated beauty in her youth, could still turn heads. Only fifty, she looked far younger than her years. Her eyes were slightly slanted, almost black, like two obsidians. Helena resembled her mother most closely, having the same hair color, the same eyes and the same height.
“Were you hurt, dear?” asked the duchess in a soothing tone.
“Thank you for inquiring, Mother. No. Not at all.”
“Did the fellow at least help you up, Livy?” asked Georgiana, fast becoming the loveliest of the Fairchild sisters. Already the young bucks in Hyde Park stopped to stare at the sixteen-year-old beauty with the raven hair, sparkling blue eyes and a charming dimple on her chin.
“He did ask, Georgie, but I’m convinced he didn’t mean it. He just kept walking when he spoke. The man was an utter boor.”
“Who was he?” asked Mary. At fourteen, she was a tall, gangly girl who had her father’s coloring without his harshness. Mary’s blue eyes were softened as it were by having inherited her mother’s warm eyes. The shy child spent her days engrossed in her music, for she dearly loved to play the pianoforte.
“I haven’t the faintest notion, Mary. I never even saw his face.”
“Livy,” interrupted her father in a familiar tone, the one that usually preceded a lecture. Rather than argue, she tilted her head and gave him a warm smile. “Your forbidding tone hints at more disapproval, dearest. What else have I done to displease you?”
“Work.” He spat the word out as if it were a curse. “How many times must I tell you that a well-born lady does not work. Why must you persist in this charade? I’d hoped that, after these first few weeks, you would have gotten it out of your system. It won’t do, I tell you. It won’t do.” He peered at her over the rim of his wine goblet. “Well? Have you no answer?”
Her sisters sat quietly, their heads swinging from father to daughter as if they were watching a tennis match.
Before she could respond, the duchess came to Olivia’s aid. “Livy has every right to pursue her own interests, my lord. If she’s happy, that’s all that matters.”
Olivia curbed a gurgle of laughter and fixed her eyes on her plate, knowing full well that her mother would win the day for her.
But the duke refused to give an inch. He glared at his daughter. “You’re wasting your time in an office full of common clerks and scribes. You can’t fool me, Olivia. I know the sort of work done in that office.”
“Have you been spying on me, Father?”
He ignored her question. “The fact is, your mother and I are concerned for your future. We want you to marry and raise a family of your own. Find a respectable purpose to your life. It isn’t as if you don’t have suitors, you know.”
“Your choices, Father. Not mine. Percy is sweet, but he’s a dead bore. And where, pray, did you dig up dear old Lord Wentworth? A contemporary of yours, is he? He ruined my shoes because he couldn’t see his feet over his enormous stomach. No, Father. Neither of your choices is acceptable to me. I may marry some day, but for now, I prefer to distinguish myself in my chosen career.”
“You are fit for nothing better than clerking. Do you call that a career?”
A mysterious smile stole across Olivia’s face. “You’d be surprised, Father. You’d be surprised.”
“Enough, you two,” said her mother as she rose from the table. “Come, girls. We’ll leave your father to his brandy and cigar and await him in the drawing room.” She glared at her husband and added, “Where I trust civility will reign. There will be no more of this distressful conversation.”
As was customary, Mary played the pianoforte while Georgiana turned the pages for her. Helena held a skein of silk spread taut between two hands while Olivia separated the colors for their mother. Her Grace occupied herself with her needlepoint, at the same time keeping a sharp eye on Jane. The child had an overactive sweet tooth and was much in need of supervision if she were not to grow from chubby to obese.
By the time His Grace joined the family in the drawing room, calm had been restored, just as the duchess had ordered. It stayed that way, for the duke knew enough to surrender to his wife’s rare, but ominous warnings. He settled into his favorite chair by the fire and engaged in a child’s card game of casino with Jane.
At eight, the children’s governess, Mrs. Trumball, came to escort Georgiana, Mary and Jane to bed. When the clock struck ten, Her Grace rose and said, “Time we were all in bed. Goodnight, children.”
Olivia’s abigail prepared her for bed, but Olivia had no thought of sleep. She dismissed Nancy as soon as she was able and hurried to her desk to read the letter Dunston had placed there. She broke the seal and read the official heading: OFFICE OF THE HOME SECRETARY. The letter itself was brief.
“You have been accepted into our new program.
Be prepared to leave for training in one week.
You will be notified as to time and date.”
It was signed by Viscount Sidmouth.
Olivia clutched the letter in both hands, her heart beating fast. Had she really succeeded in her quest? Yes! She tiptoed down the hall to her sister Helena’s chamber.
“Are you awake?”
“Of course I am, Livy. Do come in,” Helena’s abigail Amy was busy brushing her hair. When she waved her hand, the young woman put down the brush and disappeared.
“I was expecting you. You had that troubled frown all evening. It quite gives you away, you know. Not seemly for a would-be spy.” Her sister rose from her dressing table, moved to the divan and patted it. “Anything the matter?”
Olivia settled next to Helena and thrust the letter into her hand. “Read this.”
Helena took the letter from her. She looked up when she finished, and said, “Livy! You’ve