Read Lady Catherine's Secret: A Secrets and Seduction book Online
Authors: Sheridan Jeane
Lady Catherine's Secret: A Secrets and Seduction book
13 - Eyes the Color of Scotch Whiskey
A novel by
Other Books by Sheridan Jeane
Gambling on a Scoundrel
Books in the Secrets and Seduction Series
It Takes a Spy (a novella) - Book 1
Lady Catherine’s Secret – Book 2 (this book)
Once Upon a Spy – Book 3
My Lady, My Spy - Book 4 (2016)
Along Came a Spy – Book 5 (TBA)
A Flowers and Fullerton Book / published by arrangement with the author
Copyright 2014 by Sheridan Edmondson
Cover Design by Earthly Charms
ISBN:978-1-63303-005-3
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance it bears to reality is entirely coincidental.
Produced by Sheridan Jeane
at Flowers and Fullerton, LLC
Cleveland, OH
For my husband Bob, and for my father,
but especially for my mother,
Winnie Jean Flanegan Ferguson,
who loved this book.
Whenever I look at it
her love and support shines through to me from its pages.
Lady Catherine's Secret will always
hold a special place in my heart.
I miss you Mom.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I want to thank my husband Bob, and our children, for their help, their support, and their understanding. I couldn't have done any of this without you.
In addition, I want to thank
Kristi Avalon
, Sheila Larkin, and the members of the Sunshine Critique Group for everything they did to help make this book a reality and Amanda Sumner for her careful copyediting.
I want to thank Ann Marie Stone for her awesome proofreading skills.
I also want to thank my old friend Paul (PJ) Foster for providing information regarding medical care in the 1850s.
I especially want to acknowledge my friend Eva Costa Tohill and her poor departed dog. The police believe her pet was stolen from her fenced-in yard by men who used her as fodder in a dog fight. I can only hope someone like Daniel was there to rescue her.
Lastly, I want to thank the Northeast Ohio Romance Writers of America chapter of Romance Writers of America (
NEORWA
). I found you just when I needed you most, and you made my transition from hopeful writer to published author a successful one.
1 - Bernini's Academy
January, 1853, London
“You’re walking like a girl.”
In the glow of the gas lanterns outside the fencing academy, Lady Catherine Williams whipped around and scowled at her older brother. She felt the hood of her cloak fall back, but it didn’t matter, since the snug white head covering she wore hid her hair.
“Slouch your shoulders.” Charles’s critical gaze swept over her. “And lengthen your stride.”
She shot him a challenging look and then spit expertly into a pile of icy slush at the edge of the slick cobblestone road.
He closed his eyes and shook his head in mock despair. “Mother would be so proud.”
Catherine chuckled. “Spitting would be the least of my problems if Mother could see me now.”
She hurried up the stone stairs of Bernini’s Academy into its welcoming light with her brother trailing a step behind her. As she stepped through the doorway, contentment enveloped her. She was finally returning to her true home. She grinned at Charles with the sheer joy of the moment.
He shot her a quelling glare.
Mr. Winston, a secretary for the academy, sprang to his feet from behind a tall, gleaming front desk.
“Lord Spencer, how good to see you,” he said in the unctuous tones Catherine always found grating. “And young Master Gray,” he said, turning his gaze toward Catherine, “how wonderful to have you both back in London. If I may say, it’s been much too long since we’ve seen you.”
Catherine always found the small, balding man too effusive for her taste but had to grant that he was good at his job and kept the place running smoothly. She gave him a curt nod.
Winston peered at them through his round, wire-framed spectacles. “I’ll let Maestro Bernini know you’re here. He’ll be quite pleased.” He gave a small bow and departed through the office doorway with mincing footsteps.
“I hate this next part,” Catherine murmured.
“You can always go home,” Charles said. But he didn’t pause as he headed toward the dressing area. He knew her too well to think she’d actually leave.
Catherine followed closely on Charles’s heels and crossed the threshold into the dressing area. Her stomach knotted upon entering this purely male domain. The polished, wood-paneled walls and tall personal storage boxes gleamed from regular applications of lemon oil. The aroma lingered in the air, not quite masking the musky, male scent of perspiration.
She always avoided venturing far into this particular area and kept her eyes cast down, focusing on the floorboards. This was the only part of her visit she disliked. Long ago, she’d laid claim to a storage box near the entrance, so she didn’t need to go far to gather her fencing gear. With Charles by her side to shield her, she slipped in, snatched up her foil and other items, and then darted back out the door.
“
En garde
.” Charles’s traditional parting words trailed behind him as he entered the academy’s main salon without a backward glance.
As if she needed a reminder about how much she risked by being here.
With her foil in hand, Catherine followed him into the fencing salon. Charles had assured her that her disguise would still pass muster, so she didn’t worry about being exposed as a fraud. By design, the pants fit tightly around her calves and were loose around her hips. She’d become a bit rounder in the past year or so, and the loose-fitting breeches helped hide her curves. The doublet, with its heavy padding across her chest and some additional padding she’d sewn around the waist, successfully hid all hints of femininity. The most important part of her disguise came from the careful application of collodion. The bit of theatrical makeup created a puckered scar on her cheek and at her hairline that completed her disguise.
She tugged at the snug white skullcap that covered her hair, assuring herself that no stray strands had escaped. The other fencers were used to seeing her wear it, and only newcomers looked twice at it these days. Years ago, Charles had let it slip that Gray had suffered a severe burn, leaving his head horribly scarred, and the fake burn mark she created with the collodion supported the story.
Catherine stopped to absorb the feel of the space, letting it soak into her bones. She bounced on her toes and then tilted her head back to look up at the glowing gas chandeliers. The glittering cut-glass shades caused the light illuminating the large, open room to sparkle. She breathed in deeply, pulling the various mingled scents of men’s colognes and the slight undertone of perspiration into her lungs.
It was the smell of home. Her
true
home.
Catherine set her fencing mask on the floor along one of the walls. She wouldn’t need it until they picked up their foils. The crisscrossing strands of wire protected her face from being injured by an accidental slashing motion, but the large, one-inch-wide mesh squares would never be able to deflect a direct thrust. At least she could see clearly through it. Papa had given it to her a number of years ago. He always insisted upon safety, and had ensured that both Catherine and Charles were well supplied with the necessary fencing gear.
