The Name Was Familiar. The Man Was Not.

Lena knew two things with absolute certainty:

She had never seen him before.

And he should not have known she was there.

At that moment, the sound of a carriage approaching the house could be heard through the open drawing room windows. Lena peered out, but the view only showed the garden and the barest edge of the front driveway, not enough to view the vehicle.

“I wonder who could be visiting,” Lady Faine said, putting away Lena’s mangled embroidery. “I have not yet spoken to any of our neighbors about your visit.”

Light footsteps indicated the butler approaching just before he scratched on the door and entered. “My lady, Mr. Thornwell has arrived. He has said that he is a new neighbor.”

“Sir Gilbert is not here,” Lady Faine said.

“When I informed him of that fact, he indicated he wished to greet the lady of the household and that he is an acquaintance of the Neybridges.”

Lena kept a polite but curious expression on her face, but her entire body grew rigid with tension. None of their acquaintance should know the Neybridges were in Wittenden.

Within the department walls, most of the agents went by false names to protect the Ramparts should any be captured, but Lena happened to know the true identities of a few of them. The actual surname of one agent, Mr. Clay, was Thornwell.

Lena rather disliked him but had been forced to work with him on several occasions. However, because of the clandestine nature of the Ramparts department, Lena and Mr. Clay treated each other as strangers if they met in public. He had certainly not been formally introduced to Miss Melinda Neybridge.

And if this was not the Mr. Clay—or rather, the Mr. Thornwell she knew, then this man claiming to know the Neybridges was lying.

Melinda looked confused and glanced at Lena with raised eyebrows. To Lady Faine, she said, “I am afraid I am not acquainted with him.”

“Perhaps he is known to Mr. Neybridge,” Lena said. “We should greet him, if you would not mind, my lady.”

Melinda turned to Lena with eyebrows raised. “Oh yes,” she said in a flat voice, “I so enjoy meeting complete strangers in the absence of my father.”

Lena turned to her with a too-wide smile and an aggressive twitch of her eyebrow. “If he is indeed an acquaintance of Mr. Neybridge, would it not be better to see his face so that we may tell your father all about him later?”

“You mustn’t be so distrusting, my dear Melinda. I’m certain he is a perfectly nice man.” Lady Faine nodded to the butler, who withdrew.

Soon, they heard the heavy footsteps as the man followed the servant to the first floor drawing room.

“Mr. Thornwell, my lady,” the butler announced.

The man who entered the living room was tall. He had dark hair with gold highlights, and he was smiling, but the smile somehow did not reach his green eyes, which were hard like emeralds. He had a rugged face, which might have been handsome if his eyes had been warmer. Strangely, he looked to be forcing himself to be charming. Despite his fine dark blue coat and embroidered waistcoat, which indicated him to be a modest but wealthy gentleman of the ton, the man would have looked more in place on a battlefield.

“My lady, thank you for receiving me.” He bowed. “I apologize for this improper introduction. I am Mr. Thornwell. My sister and I are moving into the area for a few weeks.”

The ladies had risen to their feet as he entered, and Lena had to concentrate to keep her hands softly folded in front of her. Her heartbeat raced in her chest.

This was not Mr. Thornwell. She had been an agent for the Ramparts for almost eight years, and despite most of the other agents, she had never seen this man before.

He was a stranger. Who had somehow known that the Neybridges were here, in Wittenden.

—From Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 7: Spinster

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This post relates to Camille Elliot’s Lady Wynwood’s Spies, a Christian Regency romantic suspense series set in 1811 London and featuring intrigue, espionage, botanical alchemy, slow-burn romance, and themes of faith and redemption.

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