Page 27 of The Spy Wore Silk (Mrs. Merlin’s Academy for Extraordinary Young Ladies #1)
C oals cracked in the hearth, setting up a cheery blaze that was only partially blocked by the great mass of grey fur curled in front of the hearth.
“Good of you to share a spark or two with us,” murmured the earl as he settled down upon the sofa and propped his boots on a stack of books.
Mephisto raised his shaggy head and gave a low whoof .
Kirtland smiled, a sigh of contentment slipping from his own lips. He did not need any outward spark to warm his bones. He had an inner flame.
The fire within.
Not bad for a first line of poetry. Perhaps he would take a stab at writing an ode to his new bride, though her singular spirit seemed to defy description in mere words. It would, he decided, take a lifetime for her moods, her mysteries to become commonplace. Maybe two.
“I am waiting.” Siena’s raven tresses tickled his cheek as she leaned her head on his shoulder. “A teacher should not be tardy to his own class.”
“Where did we leave off?”
“William Blake.” She handed him the book. “Songs of Innocence and Experience.”
“Hmmm. I’m afraid we were neither last night. If I recall correctly, the lesson on meter came to a rather abrupt end when the pupil insisted on asking for a more detailed demonstration.”
“Do not deny your experience, my lord. You seemed quite conversant on the subject.”
“With you, it takes on a whole new meaning. However, at this rate, it will take us quite some time to cover all the basics of English poetry.
“I will try not to distract you again,” she said primly. “I am beginning to understand the nuances of coupling rhymes.”
“Rhyming couplets,” he grinned.
“What are we studying tonight?”
“I’m sure I’ll come up with an interesting topic once we begin.” He hesitated a fraction. “You are sure that you are not growing too bored with books? Lynsley promises we shall soon be leaving for Lombardy.”
“You could never be boring, James.” Curling her fingers with his, she lifted his hand to her lips. “I love learning more about art and literature, Though I do confess that I am looking forward to testing my mettle in a new mission.
His palm cupped her chin. “But this time we go together from the start. You will never again face danger alone, Siena. Never.”
“Together,” she whispered. “I never dreamed such an ordinary word could sound so poetic.”
After a last, lingering caress, Kirtland cleared his throat and opened the leatherbound volume. But instead of his silver bookmark between the pages, he found a folded piece of vellum.
Eyes narrowing, he smoothed it open.
If you are still interested in a certain collection of manuscripts, I am of the opinion that they would be most at home in the library of someone who appreciates beauty and intelligence. It will, of course, cost you, but no more than you were willing to spend in the first place. If the offer is agreeable to you, bring a portmanteau with the money to The Hanged Man Tavern on Wilmot Lane, tomorrow at precisely 4 in the afternoon. Ask for the room of Mr. Smythe. Leave it there. The books will arrive at your townhouse later that evening.
You will have to take a leap of faith. The question is, who do you trust?
It was signed with a slashing “O” written in red ink. Below it was a postscript.
By the by, felicitations on your recent nuptials. Your bride is indeed a most remarkable lady. Indeed, were I ever to find her match, I might even consider matrimony myself—a state I have assidually avoided at all cost. But the odds are, I will enjoy my bachelorhood until I shuffle off this mortal coil.
“I’ll be damned,” muttered. Kirtland.
“That does not rhyme.” Brows quirked, Siena looked up.
He handed the note to her.
“Hmmm.” Her expression was equally inscrutable.
“Perhaps Lynsley can nab him,” mused the earl.
She thought for several moments. “Do you want the manuscripts?”
He made a wry face. “Pragmatic, as always, my love. Are you suggesting that I ignore the possibility of capturing the rascal and simply hand over the amount he is asking for?”
“Why not?” Siena pursed her lips. “I don’t think Lynsley would disagree. The matter is finished, and Orlov, for all his faults, did us a favor.” She tilted back her chin, and batted her lashes. “Do you, perchance, hold a grudge?”
“No doubt I am being terribly petty to feel just a touch of resentment toward a man who tried to feed me to the duke’s trout.”
She laughed, a carefree sound that warmed his heart. ”He did say he was sorry. As for feeling any hesitation over edging out the other bidders, consider the Psalters a reward of sorts from a grateful government. Do you mind that you must bear the actual cost?” A mischievous smile played on her lips. “Perhaps I could put in a voucher for expenses.”
Kirtland chuckled. “The expression on Lynsley’s face would be priceless. But no, I will not ask the government to pay a penny. I will consider it my penance for past mistakes to pay Orlov’s price. And then, of course, I shall have to settle up with the duke.”
“Are you sure the cost is not too high?”
“You, my brave and bold avenging angel, are worth every illuminated manuscript in the universe.” He kissed her upturned lips. “How could I begrudge the cost of the Psalters—even if it’s going to that imp of Satan—when you turned out to be the answer to all my prayers.”