Page 91 of The Bachelor Spy
Her eyes were calculating. Assessing. Recording every detail of their positioning, their body language, the shadows they’d chosen. Then her attention shot beyond them down the hallway. Toward the west wing entrance.
The look lasted barely a second before transforming into scandalized shock, but Blake had seen it.
And from the way Evie’s fingers tightened on his shoulders, she’d seen it too.
They’d found their angel.
And hopefully it wasn’t too late.
“This is rather awkward,” Blake said, injecting just the right note of chagrin into his voice. He kept one arm around Evie’s waist—the protective gesture of a man caught in a compromising position but unwilling to abandon the woman involved, which described his feelings much too accurately for facade. “Miss—Rivers, isn’t it?”
“I—yes—I was just—” Rivers’ gaze darted between them, her behavior perfectly fitting to embarrassment of the situation. “We … are missing a patient.”
Clearly, she’d not planned her cover as quickly.
“Poor lamb!” Evie pushed back, her accent shifting back into working class. “Is it Private Jones again? He has a tendency to wander off. Where should we search, miss?”
“Yes, of course. And no, it’s quite all right.” Rivers backed up a step, still clutching her lamp. But her free hand—Blake noticed with cold certainty—had moved to her apron pocket. Just for a moment. Touching something there before dropping back to her side. Checking for a weapon? Or something else? “I wouldn’t want to interfere with”—she waved a hand between them—”this.”
“Thank you for your ready understanding.” He grinned. “You must be a kindred romantic at heart?”
“I understand completely.” Rivers nodded earnestly. “My own brother—well, he had to court his sweetheart in secret because her father disapproved. They’re married now, happily so.”
She smiled—bright, guileless, perfectly innocent.
But her eyes flickered to the shadows they’d been standing in. To the recessed window that would have hidden them from casual observation. To the side table where Evie had set down her linens—too far away to be convenient if she’d actually been delivering them.
Rivers was cataloguing their surveillance position.
Filing through possibilities of their behavior before she’d interrupted.
And hopefully she’d come to the same conclusion as he’d hoped.
Clandestine meeting between the classes.
“You won’t mention this to Lady Astley, will you?” Blake pushed concern into his words, to help guide Rivers’ conclusions all the more. “I’m quite certain she’d take a dim view of my behavior. She’s rather protective of her staff, and rightly so.” He paused, then added with calculated honesty, “Miss Gale and I … well, we’ve been corresponding since before I arrived at Havensbrooke. My wounds provided an opportunity to finally meet properly, but we hadn’t intended for anyone to discover—”
“A romance?” Rivers’ expression softened. “How very difficult, with you here as a patient and Miss Gale working for the household.”
“Precisely.” Blake squeezed Evie gently. “We’re trying to be discreet, but these stolen moments are all we have.”
“Your secret is safe with me, Mr. Blake,” she continued, her voice warm with sympathy. “I think it’s wonderful that you’ve found each other despite the circumstances.” Another smile. “Though you might want to choose a more private location for future meetings. This corridor connects to some of the other servants’ rooms and then the west wing, you see, and some of the night staff use it regularly. The small sitting room near the conservatory is much more secluded. Hardly anyone goes there after dark.”
Clever. She was redirecting them. Moving them away from the west wing—away from wherever Smith was going, away from whatever she needed to do without observation.
And she was doing it by appearing helpful. Romantic. Sympathetic to young lovers stealing moments together. Oh yes, she knew how to play the game.
“Sage advice,” Blake managed. “Thank you for your discretion, Miss Rivers.”
“Of course.” She bobbed a little curtsy, the smile on her lips not matching the look in those eyes. “I must be off to find our dear Private Jones.” She gestured vaguely down the corridor. “Terribly understaffed tonight, I’m afraid. But someone needs to ensure our brave soldiers are properly cared for, don’t they?”
She was establishing her alibi. Her reason for being in this part of the house after dark.
“Indeed,” Blake agreed. “Your dedication is admirable.”
“Thank you, Mr. Blake.” Another warm smile. “Do try to get some rest. You look quite tired. I’m sure Miss Gale would hate for your recovery to be compromised by … exertion.”
The slight emphasis on the last word could have been innocent teasing.
