Lord Crayle's Secret World. Lara Temple

with him being this close.

      ‘I am not sure you quite understand the terms of your employment here, Miss Trevor,’ he said silkily as he stopped a mere couple of feet from her, forcing her to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. ‘I distinctly remember saying that you are here to follow whatever directives your superiors give you. That means when you are told to decamp, you decamp. Is that sufficiently clear?’

      Sari squared her shoulders.

      ‘Quite clear, my lord. However, you did not tell me to decamp.’

      ‘Did I not? I would have thought the sentiment expressed with sufficient force. However, since you seem to require it made explicit, I am telling you to do so now.’

      Sari raised her hand in mock salute.

      ‘Right, Major. One decampment coming up.’

      She turned on her heel and made sure she closed the door very quietly behind her, despite the urge to slam it.

      Michael turned back to the room and the three other men pulled back their grins.

      ‘You were trifle harsh on the signorina, Michael,’ Antonelli expostulated.

      ‘She can take it,’ Michael replied.

      ‘Sure and she can.’ O’Brien chuckled. ‘There must be some Irish blood in the lass. She gives as good as she gets, that one.’

      ‘You must be more forgiving with her, Michael. It takes time to adjust to this place,’ Antonelli said.

      ‘I make no demands on her above what any one of us would make for any other recruit,’ Michael retorted curtly, pulling another foil from the rack. ‘Antonelli?’

      The old master shrugged and took his place on the strip opposite him.

      ‘As I understand it, the purpose of the Institute is to train our agents to be as effective as possible. I do not personally believe the best way of achieving that is browbeating a young woman into obedience.’

      Michael flicked his foil through the air angrily. She had them all wrapped around her little finger. And in a mere couple of weeks. Why the hell was he the only one who realised this was a problem?

      ‘She is miles away from obedience, Antonelli. And without a more serious measure of it she will be of no use to us at all. En garde.’

      Fencing with Antonelli always required all his attention and the session helped to clear Michael’s mind and focus it back on the most important matter facing the Institute at the moment. Their contacts at the ports had reported that both Frey and Junger had been sighted arriving in London, but discussions with the Foreign Office had yielded no more intelligence about the reason for the presence of the two Austrian mercenaries on English soil. There was some conjecture that they had been hired to protect the personal interests of an Austrian banker based in London, but Michael was unconvinced. He knew they had to intensify their efforts to find out what the two were doing in the city.

      * * *

      After the fencing match he went in search of Anderson and tracked him down outside Deakins’s office.

      ‘I want to update you on our two Austrians. Is Deakins in there?’

      ‘I... Uh, no... I just saw him upstairs with Morton. Why?’

      ‘Inside.’

      Anderson followed him inside Deakins’s office and closed the door, his brows raised.

      ‘I met with Castlereagh and Wellington last night to discuss the business we just concluded up in Birmingham and we touched on Junger and Frey. They aren’t convinced the two are here for political purposes, but they agreed we should investigate them in case Metternich is using that Austrian bank business as a cover. I asked O’Brien to investigate and he tracked Frey to lodgings above the Black Dog in Southwark last night, but he couldn’t find Junger. I have put Morton on to tail Frey tonight while O’Brien goes down to the docks to dig for Junger. We need to know where he is and what he’s doing.’

      Anderson nodded. ‘Fine. Let’s hope they’re right and this isn’t political. From what you told me about Paris, I’d rather their business isn’t ours.’

      * * *

      Sari stood silently by the closed door of Deakins’s laboratory. After her encounter with the earl she had retreated to her other safe haven at the Institute, well ahead of her lesson with Deakins. She had not meant to eavesdrop on their conversation, but once she had recognised their voices on the other side of the laboratory door, she hadn’t had the nerve to call attention to herself.

      In fact, within minutes of her defiant retreat from the salle she had been swamped by a familiar rise of panic. The Institute was becoming more than a means to an end, a source of the salary that kept Charlie in school and might even allow George and Mina to start the family she knew they wanted. This was something she wanted for herself. She had never felt such a sense of...rightness in her life. She knew the earl had his doubts about her and her behaviour back in Antonelli’s salle had probably only added to his reservations. She had to prove herself, and quickly, or they might decide she was more trouble than she was worth.

      Perhaps if she could help find this Junger, they might keep her, she thought. Whatever the case, she had best do something soon. She moved to inspect Deakins’s closets of disguises. She would need to be inconspicuous and she would need to protect herself. She pulled out the street-boy’s coat Deakins had shown her, with its cleverly concealed pockets hiding lock picks and a thin, deadly dagger. It was so much easier being a boy...