Page 102 of To Love A Spy
“Not me. “ Lifting her face to the wind and rain, Valencia let out a whoop of joy. “I shall always adore the sight of stormclouds and wine dark seas.”
“You must be drunk with love.”
“I am!”
“Ah, well, in that case, kiss me again. And again.” It was some moments before his lips raised from hers. “I suppose I can learn to like an Atlantic gale. Just so long as I always have you to bring me back to life.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lynsley set his hat and gloves on the sidetable of Mrs. Merlin’s private office.
“Excellent. I was hoping you would offer the usual refreshments,” he said dryly, seeing the silver tray already arranged by the sofa. “The pastry chefs of Paris cannot match the skills of your cook, especially when it comes to strawberry tarts.”
The headmistress peered at him over her glasses. “That was a close shave, Thomas. You were very lucky.”
“Very lucky, indeed,” he replied gravely.
As she smoothed at her dove grey skirts, her hands betrayed a slight flutter. “For a moment or two, you had me worried.”
“I do apologize.” He took a seat and crossed his legs. “So you sent out reinforcements to rescue me?”
“Hmmph.” A tiny snort sounded. “That rascal Marco came up with the idea on his own. As for Verona . . .”
“You may leave them to me,” he murmured. “I have a suitable punishment in mind for them both.”
Steam curled up as Mrs. Merlin poured a cup of tea and passed it over. “So Rochambert is dead?’
“Yes.”
“And the weapon is safely in Whitehall’s hands?”
“No. The fact is, no one has it. It was destroyed, along with the papers detailing its creation.” He shrugged. “Bathurst is not overjoyed, but I cannot feel too disappointed. To my mind, we have enough ways of killing each other without adding a new dimension to our armaments.”
“Amen to that.” The headmistress sipped meditatively at her tea. “So, it seems everything turned out for the best, despite the rocky start.” She took off her spectacles and pinched her nose. “You are certainly looking in fine fettle for a man who has gone through hell.”
He smiled. “It was not all pain and suffering.”
“If I didn’t know better, I would say . . .” She gave an owlish squint, then shook her head. “Never mind. Did you bring back anything else of interest from Paris?”
“Several bottles of excellent champagne. An embroidered waistcoat that my valet has already consigned to the ragbin.” Lynsley tapped a finger to his chin. “Oh, and a wife.”
Mrs. Merlin was starting to rise but sat down with a thud. “I beg your pardon?”
“Not exactly a wife,” he amended. “A fiancée. However, we will be married on the morrow by special license. A small ceremony here in the country. I am hoping you will attend, Charlotte.”
She took a moment to catch her breath. “I confess, this comes as somewhat of a shock. Not an unpleasant one, mind you. I have been wondering for some time whether you were growing too set in your ways. Like old age, old habits are hard to shake.”
He grinned. “I think I have found a second youth.”
“I am looking forward to meeting the lady,” said the headmistress. “She must be a singular female to have swept you off your feet.”
“That she is.”
Mrs. Merlin carefully squared the papers on her blotter and lined the pens in a neat row before asking, “Is she French? It is not that I have any prejudice against such a match, but it might be a bit awkward, given your government responsibilities.”
“No, my bride-to-be is English,” replied Lynsley. “And actually, you know her, so I took the liberty of asking her to accompany me here this morning.” He rose and went to the door. “Do come in, my dear.”
Valencia entered the room and crooked a shy smile at the headmistress. “It has been a long time, Mrs. Merlin.”
