FREE! In The Arms of My Enemy (Completed!) Book 1

The Lady Spy

Bamburgh, Northumberland, 8 February 1813

My dearest William—

Fidelia paused, her quill in the air. She bit her lip in thought before continuing. The cat threw up on my dress again today. Fidelia stopped again and laughed at herself, contemplat­ing scratching out that bit. With a shrug, she left it there. He has the good fortune of being adorable, so I shall forgive him. Sometimes I think back to the events that caused us to part and wonder, am I adorable enough for you to forgive me? She chuckled again, trying not to feel morose. She had spent too much time weeping over that man already.

"Another letter to your love?" Lottie asked teasingly from behind Fidelia.

She snorted. "Spying on me again?"

"Still no response?"

Fidelia looked out of the window and down the lane where William had disappeared into the snow. The familiar ache in her heart pricked her again. The winter had been harsh so far, especially so close to the sea, but the last week had been unusually warm. The snow that blan­keted the fields and lanes had melted to a few stubborn patches. "I have written him every day for more than three months. If he has not responded yet, I doubt he will at all. Now they are more like diaries that I mail off into oblivion." She forced a grin to lighten the mood.

"Have you ever considered returning to Bath to—?"

"Is that Sally?" Fidelia asked, grateful for the interruption. She did not need another reminder of how much she missed her husband. A woman was running up the road, her shawl flapping behind her.

"M'lady! M'lady!" Good heavens, Sally was crying! She had arrived on their doorstep two weeks after Fidelia and Lottie had been left at the cottage, saying that Lord Greyville had sent her to join them. Fidelia had been grateful for the company of her newfound friend, for they had since grown close, but it stung that William hadn't come with her.

"Sally!" Fidelia ran to meet her, catching the girl when she stum­bled. "What's happened?"

"The French are coming!"

Fidelia's stomach clenched in panic. She wrapped an arm around Sally and quickly pulled her inside. As she slammed the door behind them, she reached for her pistol beneath her apron.

"Tell me everything," she said, looking out the window suspi­ciously. Lottie crowded closer to listen.

"At the great house," Sally said, referring to Middleton Hall, the largest house in Bamburgh. It had only just been filled the month before, and many of the village girls had been hired to work there in preparation for a large house party that Mr. Thynne would be hosting soon. "I was visiting one of the maids, Emily, and I overheard two men speaking." She paused, taking off her cap and using it to fan herself. "They did not know I be on the other side of the door, and I heard one say that French soldiers would be in Northumberland soon!"

The blood chilled in Fidelia's veins as she glanced at Lottie. The girl's blue eyes darkened in the familiar expression of fear that appeared whenever the French were mentioned. Le Coquin still haunted her sister's nightmares.

"Could it be a simple rumor?" Fidelia asked, gripping her father's gun tighter.

Sally's cheeks flushed. "The man spoke as if . . . as if he knew."

Fidelia bit her lip. "Do you think the master of the house is a trai­tor working with the French?"

"But—m'lady! Mr. Thynne is a gentleman!"

She snorted and thought of William. He was Lord Greyville, the future Earl of Durham, and yet he was a spy. "Those that claim to be gentlemen are the ones you need to watch closest. Did you see who it was?"

"I hid when they left the room, and I only saw the back of them, but one of them was well dressed."

"Did you recognize the voice?"

"No, but I don't know any of the servants that work directly with the master, and I've never heard him speak, either."

Fidelia pressed a hand against her stomach to calm her nerves, her mind racing. If everything Sally said was true, then Bamburgh would not be safe for them, especially not for Lottie. Even if Le Coquin didn't come, it would be only a matter of time before another oily French soldier would be after her again.

Two single, orphaned daughters of a wealthy merchant would be easy targets for entitled soldiers who had not seen civilized women for months, especially since the two girls were living alone.

"We will have to run again, won't we?" Lottie asked, her face falling. Fidelia's heart constricted at the sorrow and resentment in her sister's voice. In the few months that they had lived in Bamburgh, they had be­gun to settle in and make a new life for themselves.

Fidelia was saving her own portion of the funds that William sent them to start a new eatery. Lottie was coming into her own life here as she continued to work on her inventions and make friends with the neighbors. How could Fidelia uproot the girl again because of a mere rumor?

"No," Fidelia said firmly, taking her sister's hand. "We aren't run­ning again. This is our home now, and if the French are coming, then all of England is in danger." Everyone heard the stories of what happened in Spain when Napoleon's forces invaded there; the men were slaugh­tered or forced into military service, and the women . . . Fidelia shook the thought away.

She wouldn't let such atrocities happen to them. But what could she do? Nowhere in England would be safe for them. If she tried to warn the villagers, they would cast her off as a hysterical woman.

William.

The thought struck her like a rancid egg thrown at her face. He was the only one who would take her seriously, and he was the only one in a position to do anything with the information. "We will find William and tell him what Sally heard. He will help us . . ." she trailed off, suddenly unsure.

He had made it clear when he abandoned them in Bamburgh that he wanted nothing more to do with her. If he had not responded to her letters over the last three months, would this time be any different? Would he come if she asked? If he wouldn't come for her, she prayed he would come for his country.

"M'lady," Sally added hesitantly, "I also heard the two men men­tion Lord Greyville."

"What did they say?"

"One man asked, 'What shall we do about Greyville?'" Sally twisted her face as she tried to remember the exact words. "The other man re­plied, 'If he suspects anything, I will take care of him.' But why would they be speaking about Lord Greyville?"

Fidelia's blood chilled. Even if he had treated her terribly, the thought of him getting hurt still made her head swim. If these men were working for the French, they must know about William's identity as a spy. She remembered the burns on his hands and the cut across his chest with a sinking sense of dread. What would happen to him if he investigated Mr. Thynne's household and they realized he knew? She would only put him in danger if she asked for his help.

"We can't alert William," Fidelia nibbled her thumbnail, her mind racing through a plan. "Not yet, at least." If he had the information on the invasion beforehand, he could plan a defense without ever alerting the French spies.

"What are we going to do then?" Lottie asked quietly. Her knuck­les were white from how tightly she was gripping her little notebook of inventions.

"First, we need to be certain that this is true, and then we can send word to William."

"How are we going to do that?"

"It's simple, really. I am going to become a spy."