LITMIR.BIZ

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he lost his life in the service of his country … But it was a tragedy that was destined to take place long before he had set sail from Ireland.’ Sir Giles saw the slender fingers tighten momentarily round the stem of the glass, and a look appear in the turquoise-coloured eyes which was no less penetrating than that in his own. ‘Ill fortune played no part in your father’s demise. The French had been informed that three vessels loaded with urgent supplies would be setting sail for Portugal on a certain date, and they were lying in wait.’

      ‘How—how did you discover this?’ Katherine demanded. The heartache she had suffered when she had first learned of her father’s death had never left her, but now a completely different emotion, far stronger than the lingering pain, had swiftly gained supremacy. A despicable traitor had been responsible for the death of her father!

      ‘I make it my business to know, child,’ Sir Giles responded, smiling grimly. ‘One does not need to don a uniform in order to serve one’s country. And not all one’s enemies are as visible as those on the field of battle.’ The look in his steely-grey eyes grew noticeably harder. ‘Napoleon is in exile on Elba. But my war is far from over, and shall not be so until I have unmasked the heartless devil who, during these past years, has been passing information on to the French.’

      Taking a moment to refresh himself, Giles continued to regard her steadily over the rim of his glass. ‘I shall not insult your intelligence by attempting to suggest that the person I am determined to unmask is the very traitor responsible for tampering with the document sent to the Admiralty requesting an escort for the convoy in which your father was destined to sail. There have been a number of agents working for France during these past years. I have a particular interest in uncovering the identity of just one of them, mainly because I was foolish enough once to underestimate him, and in so doing was responsible, in part, for the death of a young Frenchwoman whose knowledge would have proved invaluable in unmasking a cell of agents working in this country.’

      Katherine’s gaze remained as steady as her host’s. She now knew precisely why Sir Giles, the secret spy-catcher, had invited her here. ‘You believe that I might prove useful in helping you achieve your objective?’

      ‘Yes, child, I do. From the moment I first set eyes upon you I was aware of the striking resemblance you bear to the young woman who was murdered whilst under my so-called protection,’ he admitted, his voice surprisingly betraying a hint of regret. ‘I failed her, and that weighs heavily on my conscience. I have no intention of repeating my error. I shall do everything within my power to minimise the risk, but should you agree to assist me it is as well for you to know at the outset that your life would be in danger.’

      Leaning back in his chair, Sir Giles regarded her in silence for a moment. ‘Now, before I divulge more, I need to know, Miss O’Malley, whether you are willing to undertake a very great service for your country, which, if successful, might go some way to avenging your father’s demise?’

      Katherine didn’t need to take even a moment to decide, but was somewhat startled, after voicing her desire to help in any way she could, when the door leading to the small ante-room was thrown wide and a sparse man in his early forties, accompanied by a woman of similar age, walked calmly into the room.

      ‘Do not be alarmed, my child,’ Sir Giles advised gently. ‘I wish you to meet Mr Arthur Ashcroft, and his sister Miss Margaret Ashcroft, two of my most trusted associates. They will play a small but vital part in the plan I am about to outline to you. There is one further key player with whom I must make contact, but that can wait for the time being. What we must do now is put our heads together and come up with some scheme whereby you may leave Bath again, and quite alone, in the very near future without arousing the least suspicion.’

      A plump, middle-aged figure suddenly appeared before Katherine’s mind’s eye. ‘That, Sir Giles, might prove more difficult than you imagine!’

       Chapter Four

      Major Daniel Ross laid his head against the back of the chair, and stretched out his long legs in order to rest his feet upon the fender. His time here in Curzon Street, enjoying the hospitality of his good friend Harry Danvers, must soon come to an end. These past few weeks had proved to be highly pleasurable, and some recompense, he supposed, for the many privations he had perforce to endure in recent years.

      Undeniably London had much to offer any bachelor of comfortable means. He would have been the first to admit that he had been content to while away the hours in the company of many of those who, like himself, had known the hardship of life out in the Peninsula. There was no denying too that the highly satisfying association with that delicate vessel, short on brains but infinitely skilful in other ways, had assuaged his physical needs and provided a most pleasurable way of passing several evenings and nights. None the less, a totally idle existence was not for him. It was time he returned to his Dorsetshire acres to put into effect those improvements he planned for his house and lands.

      After sampling the contents of his glass, he began to contemplate a future that would be in stark contrast with his past. Yet he had no regrets about the decision he had taken to sell his commission and leave the army. He believed he was more than ready now to take charge of his inheritance. The love of the land had taken time to come to him, but it was there now. Which was perhaps just as well, he mused, for there was precious little else in his life at the moment upon which he might shower attention and affection, least of all a woman.

      A wry smile tugged at one corner of his mouth before he reduced the contents of his glass still further. Although he certainly hadn’t lived the life of a monk in recent years, no female had succeeded in capturing his heart since Julia had held a place there in his youth. Even now, after all these years, he could well remember how utterly devastated he had been when he had discovered that his childhood sweetheart, the female whom he had considered so perfect in every way, had betrayed his love and trust by marrying his cousin. Had the bitter experience left him hard and cynical, and disinclined to trust another member of her sex? He could not help wondering. Or was it merely that he had searched in vain for a replica?

      A slight frown creased his brow. If that was so, why then had he felt nothing within him stir when, after so many years, he had seen Julia again, a few months ago? He would have expected to feel something more than just a faint twinge of nostalgia for the happy hours they had spent together in their youth. Undeniably, time had been kind to her and she was still very beautiful. Graceful and serene, she remained for him the epitome of womanhood. Not like that damnable little shrew who had crossed his path just a few weeks ago! He inwardly fumed, his frown deepening dramatically as the pleasing image of golden locks and limpid blue eyes was unexpectedly thrust from his mind’s eye by a set of quite different features, framed in a riot of deep auburn curls.

      He shook his head in a vain attempt to dispel the vision which had too frequently plagued him during his stay in town. That unpredictable little virago typified everything he most despised in her sex! Contrary and sharp-tongued, she was just the type to lash out at a poor, unsuspecting male without the least provocation. Any man who was ever stupid enough even to contemplate taking that ill-mannered minx to wife would deserve all he got! he told himself, wondering why on earth he had been singularly unsuccessful in forgetting her very existence.

      The door-knocker echoing in the hall brought these less than charitable musings to an abrupt end, and a minute later his friend’s very correct manservant entered to apprise him that he had a visitor. A quick glance in the direction of the mantel-clock informed Daniel that the hour was well advanced. He had an appointment early in the morning, and had no intention of delaying too long before he sought the comfort of his bed.

      ‘Did the caller give a name?’ he asked after a moment’s deliberation.

      ‘He did not,’ a smooth voice answered from the open doorway. ‘But he felt certain that our long and—er—not uneventful association would be sufficient to grant him admittance.’

      ‘Oh, you did, did you?’ Daniel muttered, before dismissing the servant.

      In one lithe movement he rose from the chair and moved towards the decanters. ‘So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit? I

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