Page 47 of The Bachelor Spy
The life of a spy.
Of course, bringing Havensbrooke and Grace into the mix made everything worse. This place and these people had a connection to him. It made him vulnerable, which had already gotten him into trouble on several occasions. And that was the main reason spies were usually not placed in situations where they would encounter civilians who were highly familiar with them.
Director Lark had sent Blake for three reasons: He was the only man Lark had trusted with intel about the agency mole, one of the few who knew about the Midnight Angel, and someone who could investigate Havensbrooke for the treacherous nurse without raising suspicion.
Blake had wondered once if Grace suspected something.
Which would not be good for the mission.
But with any luck, her pregnancy news would distract her from asking questions about him. If nothing else, it might keep her safe.
And he’d not noticed Nurse Rivers doing anything else suspicious since yesterday, other than flirting with half of the young soldiers, but easing their guard through flirting was a perfect way to get information. Women were terribly efficient at befuddling good-hearted men.
He’d positioned himself in the alcove near the linen closet of the servants’ hall, conveniently out of sight but with a clear view of the corridor. Finally, his patience was rewarded when the unmistakable sound of light footsteps approached from the direction of the servants’ quarters.
Even in the dim moonlight from the wall of windows, he recognized her gait. Confident, controlled. The walk of someone who knew how to move silently, stealthily.
Evie Montgomery.
Or should he say, Helen Gale.
What a thoroughly uninspired alias. He’d expected better from her.
She passed his hiding spot, her head down as she adjusted the pocket of her dress.
Blake stepped out behind her as silent as a shadow.
But she felt him. The slight tension in her shoulders gave her away.
“Good evening, Miss Gale.” He spoke the name softly but with enough sarcasm to let her know what he thought of her alias.
To her credit, she didn’t startle. Didn’t gasp or spin around in surprise like a proper housemaid might have done. Instead, she went perfectly still for just a heartbeat before turning to face him with that carefully neutral expression of hers.
“I wondered how long it would take you to confront me,” she said, her voice pitched low to match his. “An entire week? Are you losing your knack or just getting old?”
He took a step closer, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. “Perhaps it’s from being shot in the shoulder by a friend. It does leave one a bit jaded. And then to have her rise from the dead and materialize in my very own haunt-turned-hospital. Curious thing. Required a bit of delicacy too.”
Something sparked in those violet-blue eyes. “I saved your life on that ship,” she hissed. “I feel certain my brother’s aim would have been a bit more to the left. That should tell you something.”
“Oh, it tells me quite a lot.” Blake smiled without humor. “It tells me you’re either working against your brother or playing a very deep game. The question is—which is it?”
“I do not have to tell you anything.”
“True, but you see, all the nasty little goings-on here are very much my concern. Especially since the Midnight Angel is supposedly operating in England now. In a convalescent hospital, if I recall correctly.” He let that hang in the air between them. “Rather like this one.”
Her eyes widened fractionally. “You think I’m—”
“Are you, Evie?”
Something in her gaze softened at his use of her name. The air heated between them, sparkled like electric lights, nearly magnetic in its potency.
Just as it had been all those months ago.
As if they’d never been parted.
Undimmed.
In fact, the jolt of her nearness, their connection, may have gotten even stronger.
