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We will debrief you both on the details of each assignment tomorrow when Mist is settled in, and then it will be up to the two of you to accomplish both.
She had begun to wonder if he could take anything seriously, and if the operatives in the Foreign Office were some of the lowest qualified in the entire British operative ranks. This, at least, proved that not to be entirely true.
“And it would be only fitting for the Beddingsfords to dine with the Kirklins while visiting the family estate, so we can arrange that. Might even be good for the assignments to do so, all things considered.” “Undoubtedly,” Draper agreed, though something about it made him smile, which Minerva had yet to see him do. His gaze darted to Mist a moment, but he said nothing and looked at Milliner again.
His smug smirk was gone for the moment, and a serious, focused expression remained. That was even more attractive than anything she had seen yet. Unnerving.
Minerva nodded, ignoring how the feeling of his fingers in her hair sent a shiver down her spine and made her fingers quite warm.
Griffin had little experience with it, given his recent assignments on the Continent and his secret rustication at Worsley Park, his estate in Suffolk.
His brother, the duke, had insisted on keeping both of the estates in Wiltshire, which made no sense at all, but Hawk was a stickler for tradition, and both estates had remained in the holdings of the Duke of Kirklin for generations.
Better still would have been for Hawk to sell off Millmond or Elmsley Abbey and take Worsley back, giving Griff the money and the freedom to build his own estate where he pleased.
In some circles, ladies found such behavior charming. Mirrors had not. Which, he could also admit, was utterly fascinating.
Only then did the butler turn back, chuckling freely and shaking his head. “Always knew how to make an entrance, Mist.” “You taught me how, Pick,” Griff returned with a laugh. “Can I help it if I learn well?”
He had a few individuals he needed to strike up an association with, none of whom had names as yet, but he had very clear illustrations of their features, and a fair idea of allies, which seemed as good a place as any to start. Surely the disappearance of one scrawny would-be operative could not be so difficult to uncover, and yet, the entire London League had failed to do so. Given the incredible skill set of every man in those ranks, Griff could not help but take the whole thing that much more seriously.
League of London #6
He had a few individuals he needed to strike up an association with, none of whom had names as yet, but he had very clear illustrations of their features, and a fair idea of allies, which seemed as good a place as any to start. Surely the disappearance of one scrawny would-be operative could not be so difficult to uncover, and yet, the entire London League had failed to do so. Given the incredible skill set of every man in those ranks, Griff could not help but take the whole thing that much more seriously.
League of London #5
Someone had removed them—either the operative himself or someone who knew more than they should about the whole matter.
This was who she was, unobserved and stripped of disguise. He liked her more now than he had five minutes ago, and she hadn’t said anything yet.
Where are you from?” “Norfolk,” she replied without much interest. “Near Downham.” “Really?” He cocked his head, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I was raised in Wiltshire but spent a deal of time near Martham. Do you know it?”
“Mist,” Draper began, nodding towards his operative, “will be looking into the disappearance of the clerk who used to work for the London League.
He was one of ours before he started there, and his disappearance has become a great cause for concern.
“His file is sparse, if that is what you mean. I have his last used identity, and his birth name, but without anything to corroborate…”
“Mirrors,” Pippa began, drawing Minerva’s attention to her, “will be hunting Faction operatives. More particularly, tracking those who might have been smuggled into England before the coastal houses they’d been using were shut down. We’ve had word from operatives in France that certain figures are missing from Society there, and we are keen to use the likenesses captured by Sketch and Sphinx on their mission last year to find them here.
“It is simply rare to find an operative with similar tastes in missions and the capacity to satisfy the requirements. You might call it a mutual respect between colleagues, though we know little of each other’s missions.
“The clerk, whose given name is Charles Martin, had a simple role in a mission before his transfer to the London League six years ago.
“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to track a man named Charles Martin who was born in London in eighteen hundred?
It was one of the reasons why they had started the companion project, the Rothchild Academy, for the poor girls who would never have been provided any education at all, and could not afford finishing school of their own accord.
Sphinx was a gifted codebreaker and decipherer, and his recent on-site assignment in Paris had been one of his only missions outside of office space.
“Given the penchant for the Faction members to seek out funding and influence, it seemed the best option.
“It is entirely possible that the missing Parisian society members do not need the British society members for their present aims, which would mean they are looking for their own sympathizers or operatives already here.
Respect from a colleague was always to be appreciated, far more than any flattery or compliment from anyone else.
You get one return sign of affection without my demanding an explanation, as it is only fair. Anything else will require a full debrief when we are safe to do so. Agreed?”
“That is a compliment. You are an excellent kisser, Minerva.” “I don’t care, and it doesn’t matter.” “I beg to differ, it very much does. Ask any red-blooded man, and he’ll tell you.”
She was the most well-protected asset outside of official ranks that Griff knew of, though he doubted anyone else in the ranks knew just how protected. And she had free rein of everything within her scope. Tilda also worked in the theaters of London, with her actresses ranging from actual stage players to those who had more interpretive definitions of the thing. Griff had asked around, and no one was entirely certain if she preferred her work with the actresses to that with the operatives, but the woman never seemed overburdened or fatigued by her tasks.
In a way, it was like bantering with his younger sister Adrianna, only far more enjoyable. Because he was not related to Minerva. And she was still a mystery.
A faint tightening at his back told him that fingers were gripping at the tails of his coat. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing only a bonnet that faced directly between his shoulder blades. “What are you doing back there?” he asked, his voice only slightly less strangled than he felt. “Hiding,” she bit out in a surprisingly weak tone. “How bad is it?” He somehow managed a smile. “How do you know it’s bad?” Her fingers tightened their hold on his fabric. “You inhaled like you were drowning. I couldn’t move when I heard that, so please, tell me… are we going to die?”
A dark, knowing, almost predatory smile. “Good morning, my lovelies,” she all but purred, her barely gray locks pulled back into an elegant mass of curls at the back of her head, her lips painted a deep red, her eyes sparkling with an impish light Griff mistrusted. “Tilda,” Minerva greeted in the smallest voice known to humankind. The dancing eyes flicked to her, a neat hand with long, slender fingers reaching out to tip her chin up into the light. “Mirrors. I’ve said it before, but you are a beautifully blank canvas, my dear girl. I can do anything with you. Such a treat.”
“You have your callings, and I have mine. And unless you would like to fail in yours, you will indulge me as I do mine.”
She did not want to explain her slipping out into the London night to spar with Ears and her husband,
Lord Rothchild was one of the Shopkeepers with Draper and Milliner,
But as Anna was actually an operative herself, albeit one on a different scale, with separate tasks to assist Minerva, and now Griff, she did not have to take orders or cater to Minerva’s whims.
You have short sleeves, so you must have the long gloves.”
His scruff had been trimmed, but not shaved, and that made him more appealing, rather than less, even in his resplendent attire.
Honesty can always be trusted. Honesty is not flattery but observation, and honesty is irrefutable.”
And there is always the state of existence without really living, which is just as much of a tragedy.
DeRaven Park.
Milliner would be hosting them at the school starting from tomorrow, but tonight, they would be staying with the Duke and Duchess of Kirklin. At no point had Griff explained to Minerva that the Duke of Kirklin was his brother.
She had been a teacher at the Miss Masters school, according to their sister Adrianna, which meant that Minerva would know her. But was the Duchess of Kirklin also one of the Agents of the Convent?
Her face changed shape ever so slightly, the dusting of freckles was greater or less, her brow was higher or lower, her lips… Well, her lips were always the same, and it was better not to look at them for long. He knew what those lips felt like, and the memory was a scalding one.
Unfortunately, it also broke the adorable melody of Minerva’s snoring, and she was soon righting herself upon her seat and rubbing her eyes. Somehow, that was even more adorable. What the devil was wrong with him?
As it was, his smile became a shadow of a grimace. “I could be related to him.” Minerva frowned, her eyes growing hooded. “How related?” Griff made a face and moved to the relative safety of his side of the carriage. “My name is Griffin Robert Stanwick Russell. Lord Griffin, technically. I am the duke’s brother.” The silence was as deafening as it was frigid.
The butler gave Minerva a pleading look. “Please don’t confuse me further, my lady. I have quite enough to be getting on with now that Master Griffin is in the house.” “I beg your pardon,” Griff protested. Stafford ignored him and kept his attention on Minerva. She nodded with all the sageness a woman in her assumed position might hope to have. “I quite understand. Truly.” Griff looked between the two of them in disgruntlement, though most of it was pretended. “I am right here, you know.”
He would have more power than she would, but power was not everything. This time.
He swung for her, but she ducked and jabbed up at his nose, a resounding crack emanating from it with his accompanying grunt of pain.
