Seduced by a Spy Read Free Page B

case…”
    “It is, I know, an onerous one, Thomas. But that is why the Academy exists—because there are no easy or pretty answers to the threats our country faces in times of war.” A frail, feather-thin widow with a cap of dove gray curls framing her narrow face, Mrs. Merlin had presided over the school since its inception. Age had softened her features and blunted the poke of her prominent nose, but behind the oversized spectacles, her silvery eyes gleamed with a hawkish intensity. “The girls understand that.”
    “I know.” Lynsley pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yet it does not make it any easier to sleep at night.”
    “Rest easy,” she counseled. “Protecting England from enemies who would seek to destroy its sovereignty, its freedoms, is a cause worth fighting for. Victory does not come without sacrifices.”
    “Thank you for serving up a generous helping of sympathy along with your superb Oolong tea and strawberry tarts.” He leaned back from the light and sipped at the fragrant brew.
    Despite his wealth and rank, the marquess chose to spend much of his time in the shadows. And by design, he would not stand out in a crowd. Over the years he had learned a number of subtle mannerisms to appear slighter and shorter than he really was. As for his features, they were austerely patrician, but by cultivating a self-deprecating smile, he softened the edge of authority. His hair was neither long nor short, and its mouse brown hue, now turning silver at the temples, was echoed in the somber tones of his clothing. Many people thought him a bland, rather boring bureaucrat. A fact that suited him perfectly.
    His official title—Minister to the Secretary of State for War—was a deliberately vague cover for his true responsibilities. Charged with countering espionage and intrigue, he dealt with the most dangerous and diabolical threats to England’s sovereignty. The Academy had been one of his most unorthodox ideas. The Prime Minister had thought him mad at first, but he had convinced the government to give him an old estate, which had been used as cavalry pastures. He paid the operating expenses out of his own pocket, and Mrs. Merlin oversaw all the day-to-day operations.
    “I know you take these decisions very personally, Thomas. After all, it was you who picked each of our students from the rabble of orphans roaming the slums.”
    Lynsley drew a deep breath. “Regrettably, I have a great many from which to choose.” Each year, a select few were added to the ranks of the school. He looked for signs of courage and cleverness in a girl. And looks. Beauty was a weapon in itself.
    “Life can be unfair, as we both know,” replied the headmistress. “However, the girls take pride in the fact that they have been given the weapons to fight for a higher good.”
    “So, would you care to offer any last-minute advice on my choice?” he asked.
    “To be frank, I am not sure you
have
any choice.” Peering over the rims of her spectacles, Mrs. Merlin slowly squared the sheaf of papers on her desk. “The latest evaluations from Shannon’s instructors only confirm what I’ve observed for myself. No one else here can come close to matching her skills with weaponry.”
    “I have no doubts about her physical prowess,” said Lynsley softly. “It’s her mental state that is cause for concern. If ever an assignment called for a cool head and steady nerve, it is this one. An impulsive move, an unnecessary risk, and she will die. As will others, as a result of her failure.” The marquess stared into his cup, as if trying to read the tea leaves. Throughout the first few months of 1812, Napoleon had won one military triumph after another on the Continent. England desperately needed a victory—even a small one—to show that the Emperor was not almighty. “I have read the disciplinary reports on the top of your pile. Knowing of a weakness beforehand makes me wonder whether I am morally justified in overlooking