be the first woman to enter your training program. It’s getting late, my lord. I must leave you, for my dear father is waiting to take me home.”
When she reached the terrace door, Olivia turned to wave to the viscount. She wasn’t surprised to find him looking confused, his brow lined with worry.
When Sebastian found the home secretary seated on the terrace bench where Olivia had left him, the old man was in a thoughtful pose.
“Are you all right, my lord? I’ve come to escort you home.”
“Oh, it’s you, Brooks. Yes. I’m fine.”
“It’s growing late, sir. Are you ready to leave? Shall I call for your carriage?”
“In a moment.” He raised his eyes to the spymaster and patted the seat next to him. “Tell me about your new training program, Brooks. Has it begun yet?”
Sebastian wondered why the viscount showed such a sudden interest when he never had before. “We hope to begin next week, sir, but…”
“Is there a problem?”
“Nothing we can’t resolve, sir. We’re one man short of our quota.”
The two sat side by side, the viscount lost in thought, Sebastian unable to decide whether the old gentleman was growing forgetful or whether he had something pressing on his mind.
“Let me ask you something, spymaster.”
“My lord?”
“No. Not now. See me Monday, Brooks.”
“Of course, sir.”
“You may escort me to my carriage.”
When he had handed the home secretary in, Sebastian folded the steps, closed the door, nodded to the driver, and stepped out of the way, all the while wondering what was on the old man’s mind.
Chapter Two
London—Monday, The Twenty-fourth of June
“Afternoon, sir.”
“Sit,” Viscount Sidmouth said. The home secretary, a short man, was conscious of his lack of height. Both the enormous desk and the high-back leather chair in which he sat were raised on a platform. The elevation was a reminder to visitors of who was in charge.
Sidmouth templed his fingers. “Tell me all about your new recruits.”
The old man’s up to something. Better tread carefully. But what? “Well sir, at twenty-two, the oldest is John Carter, a battle-smart soldier. We can expect good things from him. The next is Harold Perkins, aged twenty-one. A brilliant mind and a whiz at codes and deciphers. He’s one of Aaron Foster’s protégés. The youngest man—a likeable lad—is eighteen. Rufus Riggs was under my command. He acquitted himself well during the war. In fact, he was awarded a medal for bravery. And finally, we have a matched set.” Sebastian grinned.
“Matched set? What do you mean?”
“Identical twins, sir. Robert and William Reed are twenty-year-old country boys. None of us can tell them apart.”
Sidmouth allowed himself a small chuckle. “Twins, eh? That’s good. They’ll confound the enemy wherever we send them.”
“Exactly what we had in mind.”
“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
