“Have you found anyone to fill the last spot?”
“Not yet, but we have several promising applicants in mind, sir. My staff and I will decide this week.”
“Don’t bother. I’ve already selected the final candidate.”
“Indeed?” Why, the old bastard is meddling in my affairs. “I’m sorry, sir. That has always been my privilege. I respectfully request that you leave it that way.”
Sidmouth swiveled his chair and stared out the window of his office for a time. When he turned back, he said, “I do not usually interfere, nor do I make important decisions lightly, spymaster, but I am convinced this is the right one. A ground-breaking one, if I may. I’ve had it in mind for at least a year.”
“He must have very unique credentials to have attracted your notice, sir. Who is he, may I ask?”
“No. Not ‘he.’”
“A woman?” Sebastian’s voice raised a full octave. “You can’t be serious, sir. No woman is capable of mastering our rigorous training program. It’s just not possible.”
“Lower your voice, Brooks. The walls have ears and I don’t want this spread about. It is my firm belief that a woman would be a distinct asset in the business of intelligence gathering.”
“But sir! Think of the demands of our program. Calisthenics. Boxing. Martial arts. Fencing. Riding. Swimming. Codes and deciphers. You can’t expect a mere woman to succeed in such difficult tasks. It would be beyond her physical and intellectual capacity.”
“I don’t agree, spymaster. There are precedents, you know. Other countries have used women as spies for years.” He frowned at the spymaster.
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. “No, sir! Absolutely not. I will not accept a woman in my program!”
“Perhaps you’ve misunderstood me. I am not giving you a choice, spymaster. I’ve already sent the young lady a letter of acceptance.”
Sebastian stood abruptly, knocking over his chair in the process. “You’ve done what?”
“You’re shouting again, Brooks.”
“With all due respect, your interference in the affairs of my program is damnably unconscionable! I won’t have it, sir. I. Won’t. Have. A. Woman. In. My. Program!”
The home secretary did not raise his voice, yet his words were menacing. “Pick up that chair and sit down. Who do you think you are talking to me that way, you hothead! I am your superior!”
Sebastian had never heard that threatening tone from Sidmouth before. It surprised him into obeying the order, though his eyes continued to smolder.
When he was seated again, Sidmouth added in a conciliatory tone, “There is no doubt in my mind that you will accept my decision, Brooks. You are a veteran of the war, well accustomed to accepting orders from your superiors. Where would England be if you hadn’t obeyed Wellington? Try to remember that you have an excellent record in the army and now you are under my command. Don’t besmirch that outstanding record by resisting me in this.”
Sebastian refused to be soothed. “What if I refuse to accept your…decision, home secretary?”
Sidmouth shook his head in regret. “I would never have thought it of you, but if you cannot obey my orders, you leave me no choice but to thank you for your faithful service to the Crown”—he paused for effect—“and accept your resignation.”
Sebastian was stunned. “Resignation? You would force me out?”
“No one is indispensable,” said the man who had once been prime minister.
Both men were silent for what seemed an eternity.
At last, Sebastian said, “Am I meant to pamper this woman spy, sir? What if this woman you’ve chosen fails our program?”
Sidmouth shrugged. “If she fails, she fails, but I expect you to give her every opportunity to succeed. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.” Defeat colored his words as if they were in mourning.
“Good. The location of Wilson Academy is secret, is it not? Send word to my office as to when the young lady will be escorted there. That will be all, spymaster. Good day.”
“Good day, sir.”
By the time Olivia had finished collating the papers in her files, it was half past five, nearly the end of her workday. She stacked the folders in a neat pile. I’ll wager no one bothers to look at these once I’ve tucked them away in their proper file drawers.
She had read through each and every one when she put the pages in proper order, but in her view they didn’t amount to much. At the very least, most of them contained nothing even a spy would take the trouble to read. With titles such as, “Committee to Facilitate the Quartermaster’s Supply System” and “Agenda for the Meeting of the Home Secretary’s Task Force on Office Reorganization,” there was hardly anything earth shaking in any of them. No intelligent person would consider these reports worth the paper they had been written on.
Her supervisor had warned her to collate all the folders and store them in the filing room before she left her desk at the end of the day. The man had the gall to insult her intelligence as well. “You do know how to alphabetize, don’t you, Fairchild?” How petty.
There were at least forty folders to be filed in alphabetical drawers and less than half an hour left in her workday to accomplish this odious task. She took a deep breath, picked up the pile, and staggered down the hall to the filing room. She was forced to sidle along the wall since she could not see very well above her heavy burden. As she neared the end of the hallway, she let out a sigh of relief. The filing room was just around the corner, a mere dozen steps away.
Sebastian strode down the hall from the opposite direction, his brows knit together as if sewn fast by an invisible weaver. His thoughts were filled with disgust over his disastrous meeting with the home secretary. Sidmouth was a stubborn man who was afflicted, like so many men in power, with an inability to entertain any opposing point of view.
Caught in the web of his anger, he turned the corner and collided with a clerk whose arms were full of folders. The woman went sprawling and the folders flew all over the floor in hopeless disorder.
“Oof!”
“Why don’t you look where you’re going?” Sebastian spat out, taking his fury out on the poor clerk.
“Why don’t you look where you’re going yourself, you miserable…excuse for a man?” Olivia challenged without so much as a glance. She scrambled to her knees and gathered the file folders. Drat! She would have to stay late to put them all back in proper order. She’d also be late for dinner, and what a state that would put her father in. Her cap had flown off, releasing a riot of blond curls.
“I’ll send for help if you need some.”
“No! And don’t you dare tell anyone about this.”
“As you wish.” He held his hands up in surrender, but she was too absorbed in gathering papers to notice. He couldn’t see her face, since her hair covered most of it. Indeed, he wondered how she could see anything at all with that unruly mop. He began to walk away, but glanced back in time to see her hitch her gown up as she bent to the task.
The sight of her enticing derriere, outlined through her thin chemise, was the only bright spot of his wretched afternoon. If she weren’t a mere clerk afraid of being sacked, he might just be able to relieve both his gloom and his growing hardness in some nearby broom closet, but it was not to be. He suppressed the bitter laugh that threatened to escape his lips. Without another backward glance, the spymaster continued on his way.
“A letter for you, milady,” said Dunston. “Hand-delivered early this afternoon along with instructions to deliver it to