Too Hot For A Spy. Pearl Wolf

wrong? Spies aren’t supposed to weep, Livy. Here. Wipe your tears.”

      Olivia took her sister’s handkerchief and did as she was told. “I want so much to succeed, Helena.”

      “You can’t mean you are afraid you might fail?”

      “I’d be a fool not to face that possibility. But I’m determined to succeed. I don’t want to live a life of boredom, merely attending balls and routs and picnics and raising children and…”

      Helena smiled. “You’ve made your point, my dear.”

      “I want to travel the world. I want adventures.”

      Helena clasped her sister’s hands in hers. “Then by all means, follow your dream, Livy.”

      “Easier said than done.”

      “You’ve been accepted. That’s an excellent start and you should be jumping for joy instead of wallowing in tears. What’s troubling you?”

      “How am I to be ready in a week? And how shall I keep it from Mother and Father?”

      Helena considered this. “You can’t keep it from them, Livy. I’d advise you to go and tell them at once.”

      Olivia’s spirits sank. “Must I?”

      “It would be too shabby of you if you didn’t tell them. Be brave and don’t allow Father to bully you.”

      “You’re right, of course. I’ll go to them at once.” She kissed her sister on the cheek and padded down the stairs to her parents’ suite of rooms.

      When she knocked on the door and entered, she glanced around the comfortable room. “Where’s Father? I had hoped to talk to you together.”

      “He’s in the library, dear.”

      “I need to speak to you both. It’s important, Mother.”

      “Shall I send for him?”

      “Yes, do please. You may read this while we wait for him.”

      It didn’t take long for the duke to respond to the unusual summons. He took in the scene—his wife looking bleak, holding a letter, his daughter’s head bowed.

      “What’s wrong?”

      Without a word, the duchess handed him the letter. He read it quickly and looked up. “No need to get yourself into a pet, my dear. Livy will of course refuse the invitation and that will be the end of that.”

      “I have no intention of refusing, Father.” Olivia spoke in a sober voice. She rose and took the letter from his hand. “You know perfectly well that I want this too much to give it up. I’ve made no secret of the fact that I wish to become an intelligence agent. Know this. If I didn’t have your consent, it would make me unhappy, for I love you very much, but I shall proceed nevertheless. Can you not see your way clear to giving me your blessings in this endeavor?” Olivia directed this question to her father.

      “Damned if I will, you disobedient child!” the duke said bitterly.

      “Leave us, Livy dearest,” said her mother. “I wish to discuss this news in private with your father.”

      “Of course, Mother.” She hugged her mother, but when she tried to hug her father, he turned away, his face twisted in anger.

      Olivia spent a sleepless night in misery for having caused her parents such pain. She knew in her heart she would not give up her right to realize her ambition. In time, they would accept her decision, for deep down, she knew her parents loved their firstborn child.

      When her abigail woke her, she said, “His Grace wants to speak to you before you leave, milady.”

      Now what, she thought, weary of quarreling. She dressed, took two sips of chocolate and went in search of him. She found him in the breakfast room reading the paper and drinking his coffee, his eggs untouched. She went to the head of the table and kissed him on the cheek.

      Olivia took a seat by his side and said, “You asked to see me, Father? I’m not going to work today. I never do on Sunday.”

      Her heart thudded when he put the paper down and looked at her, for his face was drawn. It was as if he had grown ten years overnight.

      “This dream of yours? I have only myself to thank,” he confessed, his voice laced with bitterness. “I’ll never forgive myself for treating you like the son I wanted when you were born. It was I who taught you how to ride like a man. It was I who taught you how to hunt and to shoot. It was I who taught you how to swim. It was I who…”

      “Oh, Father,” she cried, and fell on her knees before him. “Don’t you know how proud I am to be your daughter? Only let me do this with your blessing and I’ll make you proud in return. I must seize this opportunity. Can’t you see that?”

      She heard him blow his nose. At the same time, his hand patted her head and she felt a glimmer of hope.

      “I haven’t much choice, have I, puss? We don’t want to lose you, Livy. It would break your mother’s heart and I won’t have her hurt. We have agreed that you may go with our blessings, but I can’t bear to be here to see you off. Your mother and I have decided to leave for Brighton tomorrow with Georgie, Mary and Jane. Your brother Edward is coming home today from Oxford and he will chaperone you and Helena. They’ll join us at Heatham after you leave.”

      “You can’t know how much this means to me, Father,” she said in a humble voice.

      “Edward our chaperone? Imagine that,” said Helena in wry good humor when she heard the news. She rolled her eyes and that made Olivia laugh. “Brother Edward won’t care a fig for what we do. He’s bringing his friend Madison with him so they can practice their skills in curricle racing in Hyde Park.”

      “Father’s approval is such good news for me, Helena, don’t you think?”

      “I couldn’t agree more. Do you have a plan yet? If not, I think that, after our parents leave, we’ll have a week left to get you ready.”

      “Oh, yes. That would be perfect. First off, you must help me shop for the proper attire. Do you think our modistes can have everything ready in one week? No matter. What they can’t finish might be sent to me.” She hesitated, a quizzical look on her face. “What do spies wear, do you suppose?”

      Helena giggled. “Certainly not ball gowns, you ninny. I would guess you’ll need riding clothes, sturdy shoes, warm sweaters and coats, walking skirts…”

      Olivia made a face. “Sounds a little dull.”

      “Keep focused on the goal, Livy. Not on a fancy ward robe.”

      Olivia sighed and laid her head on her sister’s shoulder.

      “What is it, dear?”

      “I’ll miss you, Helena.”

      “You can always write.”

      Chapter Three

      Wilson Academy—Sunday, The Thirtieth of June

      When Sir Abercrombie Wilson died without an heir, his will deeded his property to the Crown. This patriotic gift was never used during England’s Napoleonic Wars. But afterwards, when the deed came to his attention, the home secretary maneuvered Parliament into handing it over to the home office and providing funds for the renovation of the property.

      Sir Sebastian Brooks, a war hero, sold out to accept the post of chief spymaster, and at once set about converting the mansion into a training center, named Wilson Academy. To the uninitiated, the property appeared to have undergone little change, causing locals no undue alarm. Indeed, none but those in the highest echelons of government knew the real purpose of the academy.

      Located near enough to London for ease of communication with the home office, the academy lay hidden