Seduced by a Spy (8 page)

The prince clicked his heels and bowed. “I have already tendered my humble apologies on that score, my lord.”

“For which I am extremely grateful, Yuri,” said Lynsley with a gracious nod. “In turn, allow me to present my agent Shannon to you. As for Mr. Orlov, I believe he needs no further introduction to either of us.”

Chapter Eight

Folding his arms across his chest, Orlov assumed an air of nonchalance, though he was seething inside. This dirty game they all played had few rules, but he did not appreciate being made to feel like Yussapov’s pawn in whatever cat-and-mouse game Russia was playing with England.

“What a pleasure to see you again, Lord Lynsley,” he drawled. “I regret not offering a more polite farewell at Marquand Castle, but I was in somewhat of a hurry.”

“Leaving a rather untidy mess behind you,” replied the marquess dryly.

His lip curled in a cool smile. “On the contrary, milord. I believe I tidied up quite nicely. If there were a few odd spills to mop up, well, I trusted that you had quite enough help on hand to finish the job.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shannon’s face scrunch into a fearsome scowl. Her lips moved, but he couldn’t quite make out her words.

Which was probably all for the better. Lynsley flicked a warning glance her way, but his eyes betrayed a ripple of amusement.

“Let bygones be bygones, yes?” said Yussapov with an expansive wave. “However, before we continue, allow me to express my great pleasure on meeting one of the famed Merlin’s Maidens.” His jeweled ring flashed as he stroked his beard. As did his eyes. “Your reputation does not do you justice.”

Shannon replied with a stoic stare.

“Returning to the present problem,” said the prince. “We were just discussing the Irish mission, and the reasons for its having gone awry.”

“You are staring the problem in the face.” This time, Shannon’s comment was quite audible, earning her another silent rebuke from her superior.

Orlov countered with exaggerated politeness. “Much as I hate to contradict a lady, the mission had gone sour before either of us ventured onto O’Malley’s turf. D’Etienne was gone by the time we got there.”

“I don’t see how he could have been tipped off,” mused Yussapov. “I told no one my plans, save for you, Alexandr.” He cocked a glance at Lynsley, who slowly shook his head.

“I was equally discreet. The success of this mission was of grave importance to our government.”

“Hmmm.” The prince’s hand fell to fingering the double-headed eagle on his watch fob. “Sometimes chance flies in the face of the best-laid plans. It appears we were unlucky.”

“A fact exacerbated by Mr. Orlov’s penchant for petty theft,” muttered Shannon. “Sir,” she added, turning to address Lynsley. “If I may be allowed to say so, the exchange of gunfire with O’Malley—while resulting in the elimination of one enemy—was an unnecessary complication that may have alerted our true target that we were on his trail.”

Orlov caught the murderous look she cast his way.

“Indeed, I would venture to say we haven’t a snowball’s chance in hell of getting near him in Ireland again,” she finished.

Lynsley opened a dossier and thumbed through the papers. “My sources inform me that he has already left the country.” Pinching at the bridge of his nose, he asked, “Any comments, Yuri?”

“I shall let my man answer for himself.”

“Again, though it pains me to contradict a fellow operative, I did not purloin the snuffbox for mere personal gain. I was not as much interested in the bauble as in what lay inside it.”

“Hah!” Yussapov gave a bark of laughter. “You see, he had heard of O’Malley’s habit of hiding his orders from the French inside the treasure. I will pass over just how he coaxed such sensitive information from a member of the Irishman’s household, as it is irrelevant to the mission. But suffice it to say, the tip proved accurate.”

Orlov allowed something akin to a supercilious sneer to alter his expression. He did not normally gloat, but Shannon’s scorn had stung. For some reason, he wished to disabuse her of the notion that his highest pursuit was that of money. To be sure, he
was
a rogue, who saw no reason why he shouldn’t profit from the risks he took, if the opportunity was there for the taking. But he had never compromised a mission for mercenary motives.

“All in all, when you add up the score…” One by one, the prince ticked off the list with a jab of his well-tended finger. “The demolition of the French gold, the demise of O’Malley, the capture of the French document… I would say that my man came out on top.”

Steepling his hands, Lynsley smiled. “In the spirit of friendly competition, let us give Shannon a chance to reply.”

This time, Orlov noted that she didn’t so much as deign to glance his way.

“Mr. Orlov’s accomplishments, marvelous as they may be, would not have been quite so impressive if I had not managed to haul his unconscious hide, along with the hidden document, over the moors—at no small risk to my own person—and get him aboard a British naval cutter. Where the captain and I performed surgery to remove the bullet from his shoulder.”

“Better there than in your skull, would you not agree?” he retorted.

She had the grace to flush.

The prince chuckled. “You see how well they work together, Thomas. A formidable team, to be sure.”

“Hmmm.” Lynsley’s look was a trifle more skeptical. “They appear to get along like…”

Like fire and ice, thought Orlov to himself.

“Like steel and flint,” blurted out Shannon. “The sparks put the pyrotechnics of Vauxhall to blush.”

“Like cats and dogs,” finished the marquess. “But then, England’s arms feature a lion, while Russia is famous for its wolves.”

If a merlin had fangs
, thought Orlov
, they would likely be sunk in his throat.
Reacting with his own flash of teeth in the lady’s direction, he tugged at his earring.

“Well said, my dear Thomas. As usual, you see right to the heart of things,” observed the prince. His grin of unholy amusement made Orlov wish to aim a kick at his well-tailored rump. “I give thanks to St. Georgi that we—and our fearless agents—are allied on the same side.”

Very little escaped Lynsley’s notice, agreed Orlov. Whether it was a blessing or a curse remained to be seen.

“St. George is a patron saint of our country as well, Yuri,” added the marquess. “So perhaps we can consider it a match made in heaven.”

Or hell.
The exchange of civilized banter between the two titled gentlemen stirred the hairs on the nape of Orlov’s neck. “Yuri,” he growled. “If you have finished having your fun, I should like to finish briefing you about the rest of the mission, and its consequences. In private, if you please.”

“Ah, but you were the one who suggested we have no secrets from our ally,
tvaritsch
. This matter of D’Etienne is of vital concern to both the Tsar and the King. So Lord Lynsley and I have agreed to coordinate our efforts to eliminate the threat.”

Orlov felt the prickling sensation turn into a stab of dire foreboding.

“Between our informants and the secret orders you so cleverly captured from O’Malley, we are quite certain that the Frenchman is on his way to Scotland,” continued the prince. “While he was lucky in escaping our pursuit in Ireland, it seems that Fortune may have finally turned her smile on us.”

His mouth stretched a bit wider. “We believe we may have a way of getting to him. But the operatives will need to be masters of cunning and deception. Not to mention deadly force. Seeing as our two best agents have already shown an ability to work together, we see no reason to alter the arrangement.”

“No reason?” repeated Orlov softly. For a moment he thought his superior might be indulging in his peculiar sense of humor. But a look at Yussapov’s face showed he was deadly serious. “I shall be happy to write you a list of reasons—in both English and Russian so there is no misunderstanding,” he replied. “Assuming, of course, that Lord Lynsley has a ream of foolscap at his disposal.”

“For once I agree with Mr. Orlov.” Shannon was quick to second his objection. “It won’t work.”

“Why?” asked Lynsley mildly.

“Er…” She looked uncertain. “I…”

“I work alone,” finished Orlov. “And that’s flat.”

Yussapov tilted back in his chair and looked up at the painted ceiling, appearing for all the world as if the
trompe’l‘oeil
cherubs cavorting across the celestial blue were his only interest.

Orlov muttered something in Russian that brought the legs back to earth with a thump.

“Now, now, Alexandr, let us not be hasty,” soothed the prince.

“Us?”
he said with poisonous politeness. “It is
my
hide that is at risk.”

Ignoring the interplay between the other men, Lynsley turned to Shannon. “As I have said, D’Etienne is a grave threat to both England and Russia. But I would never ask you to undertake a mission against your will. If, for personal reasons, you feel that you cannot perform what is required of you, I shall of course accede to your feelings. One of the other Merlins—”

“No, sir!”

Orlov saw her chin rise, its angle sharp as a sword thrust.
Damn
. The marquess had skillfully maneuvered her into a position of no retreat.

“I am ready to ride from here to Hades, if that is what is needed, sir. Alone or in whatever company you so order.” Her voice, while it carried conviction, was decidedly lacking in enthusiasm.

“Perhaps if I explain the circumstances, it will help,” continued the marquess with the same mild manner. He might have been ordering port and cigars at White’s rather than the covert assassination of a dangerous enemy. “Angus McAllister is a scientific wizard in the art of munitions. His innovations in artillery design and ballistics could help swing the balance of power to our side in the upcoming Eastern campaign.”

Yussapov began to drum a martial tattoo upon the tabletop.

“However, he is not only a scientist, but also a devoted family man,” continued the marquess. “And serves as guardian to his orphaned niece and nephew—a responsibility that is dear to his heart. At our government’s urgent behest, he has reluctantly left them in the care of the children’s grandmother, an elderly widow living in a remote corner of the Highlands, in order to work with our military experts on cannon design.”

Orlov saw Shannon flinch at the mention of the orphaned children. “You need not explain the reasons, sir,” she interrupted. “I take your word that the mission is a vital one.”

“In this case, I believe it imperative that both of you understand the full import of what is at stake. You see, we believe D’Etienne’s next target is… but I am getting a step ahead of myself.”

“Da,”
said Yussapov. “Let us back up and explain just what it is that we have in mind.”

Orlov had a sinking feeling that he knew where this was going.

“Imagine, a frail old babushka and two young children at an isolated estate.” Indulging in the Russian flair for storytelling, Yussapov was quick to warm to the subject. “Alone, save for the wolves and hawks that hunt in the surrounding hills.”

“There are no wolves in Scotland, Yuri,” muttered Orlov.

The prince ignored him. “An easy target for anyone, much less a trained assassin.”

Shannon let out a gasp of disbelief. “You don’t mean to say that he intends to murder the children?”

“
Attack what they love first
—it is one of Sun-Tzu’s precepts for defeating an adversary,” said Lynsley softly. “War is, by its very nature, ugly and immoral, Shannon. Our enemy will strike where he believes it will hurt the most. Angus McAllister would be devastated if his wards came to harm. And who could blame him if he held us as responsible as the French for his loss?”

She paled but Orlov saw her eyes turn the color of windswept granite. A hard, unyielding shade of green-gray.

“We believe that D’Etienne will first seek to take the children as hostages,” explained the marquess. “In some ways, they are more valuable to the French alive than dead. But if the opportunity does not present itself, he will not hesitate to kill them.”

“What is your plan?” It was clear that she had surrendered any reluctance to the mission.

“To dispatch you and Mr. Orlov to Dornoch. It will seem natural enough that McAllister would engage a governess and tutor for the children during his absence. Such an arrangement works to our advantage. You will be in a perfect position not only to guard the McKenzie children, but also to ensure that this mission is D’Etienne’s last.”

“You English have a saying, I believe,” offered the prince. “One that refers to killing two birds with one stone.”

“Or, in this case, killing one bird with two stones,” said Orlov dryly. “A strategy designed to be doubly effective.”

Shannon ignored his quip. “When do you wish for us to leave?”

“We have a cutter ready to sail from Margate,” replied Lynsley.

Orlov gave an inward wince.
Not another damn ship
.

“A few more briefings on the particulars, an interlude to assemble the necessary equipment, a surgeon to examine Mr. Orlov’s wound…”

“I am touched by your concern for my well-being, my lord.” He exaggerated a bow to the marquess.

“We will aim to have the ship sail on tomorrow morning’s tide.”

“Yes, sir.” Shannon snapped off a salute.

“Alexandr?” asked the prince.

His lovely counterpart was not the only one who had been maneuvered into a corner. Masculine pride—and perhaps some other, even more primitive emotion—prevented him from ducking the challenge and slinking away with his tail between his legs. “Bloody hell, I suppose I might as well finish the job.” Orlov sighed as he regarded the prince with a baleful grimace. “The English have another saying—in for a penny, in for a pound.”

“If you have any lingering reservations, I would prefer that you voice them now.” Lynsley was nearly indistinguishable from the corridor shadows, his somber tailoring blending in perfectly with the shifting shades of light and dark. “Before it is too late.”

Light and dark.
Their world was defined in black and white, thought Shannon. Though in reality, the boundaries often blurred to a muddle of grays.

“I—I regret my initial outburst. I have no doubts, sir,” she replied quickly. “I won’t let you down.”

“You have nothing to prove, Shannon.”

His voice was, as always, kindly as he stepped into her bedchamber.
Fatherly
. Or so she imagined in the rare moments that she let herself indulge in sentiment. Thoughts about fathers or family had no place in her world. The Academy was home, her comrades were her sisters, her sword was…