Page 90 of The Bachelor Spy
“And someone who benefits from Wilson taking the fall.” Evie leaned closer, urgency sharpening her features. “Think about it. Wilson’s the perfect scapegoat. German ancestry, stern demeanor, access to patients and the schedule. If anything goes wrong, suspicion naturally falls on her.”
“While the real Midnight Angel moves on to her next assignment.”
“Precisely.”
And the answer lodged in Blake’s chest. Too clear now in hindsight. “Rivers.”
Evie’s eyes widened. “The young VAD?”
“I heard her questioning one soldier a few days ago and Corporal Davies today. Asking about Loos, about troop movements and artillery positions. She claimed her brother was stationed there, that she was worried—”
“A brother at the Front is excellent cover for asking questions.” Evie’s voice held growing conviction. “And she’s always so helpful. With almost naive cheerfulness. Who would suspect the sweet young volunteer of being a German agent?” Her brows creased. “It’s the sort of strategy I used to test the theory of how easy it might be to gain information from the patients.”
“When I saw you in the garden?”
One corner of those delightful lips tipped. “Spying on me, were you?”
His returning smile dissolved as the story became clear.
Blast it! Why didn’t he see it all before?
“If Rivers, it would explain why the leaks continue despite Wilson being under surveillance by both of us.” Evie continued, “Rivers has access to the same patients. More, actually—she’s always chatting with them, bringing them books, writing letters home for them. No one would think twice about her asking questions.”
“And she’s young enough and presenting as inexperienced enough that any missteps could be attributed to naivete rather than calculation.”
“Perfect cover,” Evie breathed.
All at once, footsteps echoed in the corridor. Quick, light, and coming directly toward them.
Blake’s training kicked in. If it was Smith doubling back, their surveillance was compromised. If it was a servant, questions would be asked about why a patient and housemaid were having whispered conversations in shadowed alcoves after midnight.
The footsteps grew louder, the shoes decidedly female in nature.
No time to separate, no time to construct an adequate excuse, no time for anything except—
Blake made his decision.
He pulled Evie into his arms, stepped into the moonlight from the window, and kissed her.
For a heartbeat, she went rigid. Then—bless her brilliant, quick-thinking mind—she melted into him, her hands sliding up to grip his shoulders, playing her role with conviction.
Excellent, thorough, mind-numbing conviction!
Her mouth was soft and warm and tasted faintly of tea. Her arms slipped so wonderfully around his neck, allowing him to tuck her flush against him. The scent of her—lavender soap and something darker, uniquelyher—enveloped him in a wonderful, intoxicating way.
He’d never enjoyed his work so much in his life.
The footsteps stopped abruptly.
“Oh!” A startled gasp. Young. “I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
Blake broke the kiss slowly, reluctantly, then turned with what he hoped was an appropriately embarrassed expression.
Nurse Rivers stood frozen in the corridor, one hand pressed to her mouth, eyes wide. A lamp dangled from her other hand, casting wavering shadows across her face.
But something was wrong.
She stood still. Her surprise was perfect—exactly what it should be—but her eyes …
