A Yankee Spy in Victorian London (Book 2 - Spy Series)

By Patricia Catacalos

England 1865...American, Caitlyn Cody Carrington, wishes to exonerate her British great-uncle accused of treason but his arrest is a ploy to ferret out an elusive double-agent. She is asked to serve as a spy for the Crown, reporting to the mysterious spymaster, Raven, and partnering with the charismatic Earl of Huntingdon. Both men intrigue, confuse and enthrall her...until she discovers why they do.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patricia Catacalos
• Release date: Oct 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311434784

Patricia Catacalos

I hold a BA in Theatre from Seton Hill University and a MA in Theatre from the University of Denver. Years ago, when still single, I acted in and directed plays in the Philadelphia area but suffered the fate of many artists, struggling financially. So I entered a career in sales. But, my creative spirit needed to express itself and several years, ago, I started writing historical romances. I discovered that writing historical romances is my passion. I love weaving historical personalities into my plot, interacting with my fictional characters. Recently, I began writing historical mysteries/intrigue and again, love the aspect of interspersing historical fact and personalities into my story line.I am married to a loving and supportive man with a Greek heritage (which influenced a couple of my novels) and we live in southern New Jersey.

Book preview

Chapter One

England -- November 1865

Is there anything else ye desire, Miss?

The young lady sauntered from behind the floral dressing screen as she looped the coordinating belt to her satin robe, tying it in a secure knot around her slender waist, accentuating her shapely form. Her wheat-colored tresses hung long over both her shoulders effectively covering her breasts as if intentionally shielding their bounty from view.

No, Nettie, I require nothing else. Thank you for your assistance. She smiled graciously and spoke appreciatively to the little servant girl in a melodious voice, most men would readily describe as sensual in quality.

She slowly walked toward the vanity and its matching cushioned bench with oscillating hips, seductively alluring in their swaying movement. She sat and peered at her reflection in the looking glass, touching the corner of her left eye as if one of her long, dark lashes was irritating her large, brown eye, tilted slightly upward at the outer corner and giving her a somewhat exotic look.

All this the man observed from his hiding place, hidden in the shadows on the balcony of the lady’s bedchamber. He guessed her to be twenty years of age and perhaps, one of the most sensually beautiful women he had every encountered. Her every move was as if perfectly choreographed to lure a lover into her arms.

He had best be on guard.

He watched as she picked up a silver-handled hairbrush and began to brush her bountiful hair with long strokes. He felt mesmerized by her rhythmic movements and stood observing for several long seconds. Finally, he blinked as he collected his senses, reminding himself that he had a task to complete.

Good evening, Miss Carrington.

In one fluid movement, Miss Carrington dropped her brush and grabbed a small pistol from where it had rested, beneath a strategically placed doily, on her vanity table and quickly stood as she pointed the derringer at the shadowed form standing on the balcony. It took you long enough to announce your presence.

The hooded figure stepped slightly over the threshold of the French door but while remaining in the shadows and beyond the circle of light created by the gas lamp on the vanity table. He casually leaned a shoulder against the doorframe and crossed his long-sleeved arms against his chest. The hood of his long black cape was pulled low over his face, effectively hiding it from the lady’s view. He was dressed completely in black, including black leather gloves and polished black boots. He now stood with one boot crossed over the other, with the toe touching the wooden floor, in a cavalier pose.

How long have you been aware of my presence? the intruder calmly queried. He spoke in a raspy stage whisper obviously intended to disguise his real voice.

A shiver tickled her spine, but she refrained from shuddering. His voice oddly unnerved her, but she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how he affected her. She lifted her chin as she honestly replied, The moment I came out from behind the dressing screen. She tilted her head before smiling, naughtily. "If I had sensed you before I undressed, I would not have changed into my night rail. Fortunately, I changed behind the screen."

Ah yes but…the light from the fire in the hearth served as a nice backdrop, silhouetting your body behind the screen as you undressed. I thoroughly enjoyed the erotic show. He cocked his head in imitation of her slightly tilted head. He smiled, wickedly, knowing she could not see his expression beneath his disguise.

Her brown eyes flashed as anger welled up in her chest and her breathing became labored. She would not take her eyes off the insolent man to look behind her and verify the truth to his words. She needed to be alert to any sudden movement on this stranger’s part. Who are you and what do you want?

I am Raven, he hoarsely responded in his continued stage whisper.

You are Raven? She sounded incredulous as her right dark eyebrow rose quizzically.

I am.

Her large eyes narrowed as she stared at the man who called himself Raven. My great-uncle has spoken of you and I had hoped to meet you. But I did not expect you to stealthily enter my bedchamber. She lifted the gun slightly higher as she spoke. I thought the English to be ever so proper and a man entering a lady’s boudoir is considered a compromising act...punishable by marriage to said lady.

"Firstly, the woman in the bedchamber need be considered a lady before deeming the act improper. And I am not a man but a spy…a spymaster to be precise. Semantics perhaps but…"

His insult struck her like a poisoned arrow, unexpected but nonetheless hurtful. Why the barb should offend her, she could not say. This man meant nothing to her, other than the instrument of her great-uncle’s imprisonment. True, she had been a hoyden as a child, but her mother and Aunt Harriet had worked diligently to refine her as a lady which she most definitely was now. Be you man or spy, you are no gentleman.

Raven stiffened. Her well-aimed insult also hit its mark. Then he spoke, slowly and softly, I prefer the darkness of night to visit. And your bedchamber affords the privacy I needed.

"You are the spy responsible for gathering the evidence against my great-uncle. He is my only living relative and a more honorable man you could not find. I never thought that I could bear such hatred for another human being but you I do loathe."

But would you shoot an unarmed man?

I doubt that you are unarmed. She smiled, mischievously. "And you did sneak into my bedchamber and most likely with nefarious intent. I am within my right to shoot you."

"And I doubt that you could cause much harm with that little toy gun."

Do not underestimate the effectiveness of this weapon nor the hatred I bore for you. Just a slight twitch of my trigger finger and… She could feel her palms sweating and her finger beginning to cramp as it was positioned on the trigger. She had never killed a man before but… this man deserved to die, did he not?

And you would be shooting at shadows.

Perhaps I would but I would hit my mark. She paused before adding, as if to justify her threat, My great-uncle is innocent.

Yes, I know.

What? Her heart began to beat rapidly. What game was this man, Raven, playing?

Raven pushed away from the doorjamb and stood with legs braced widely apart and fisted hands on his hips. "I am not overly fond of Yanks."

She intensely disliked the term ‘Yank’ as it invariably reminded her of the Civil War that had only recently ended, leaving the country scarred. "And how many Yanks have you met?"

Only one…

Her eyes widened as she instantly realized that she was the only one. And other than my beloved great-uncle and my deceased grandmother, I am not overly fond of the English.

Raven slightly cocked his hooded head. We tend to grow on foreigners, slowly earning a favourable opinion.

I question the veracity to that statement. I find the English to be condescending, arrogant and insulting.

Raven shrugged his cloaked shoulders. Not necessarily bad traits when perceived in the right context. I find Yanks to be brash, impetuous and hot-tempered.

Not necessarily bad traits… she mimicked as she shrugged her shoulders in mocking imitation of the cloaked man.

Your great-uncle endearingly describes you as a ‘spitfire’.

She smiled, mischievously. I can get passionate at times especially when I sense an injustice needing to be rectified.

He calls you Cody. Is that truly your name?

She blinked. When and why would her great-uncle mention her to this man? She stood staring at the cloaked man, wishing that she could scrutinize his features. He was a tall man at perhaps slightly over six feet in height and his body appeared lean and athletic beneath his black garments as he stood with fists on hips, revealing his full form. But there was nothing discernible about him that would later allow Cody to identify him and this fact disconcerted her.

Finally, she decided to answer the mysterious Raven’s question. "A man named Isaac Cody once saved my father’s life and my middle name honors him. His son, Bill, and I have been friends since childhood. And he will soon marry my best friend, Louisa, in St. Louis where I live. My full name is Caitlyn Cody Carrington. My great-uncle and friends call me Cody. You may address me as Miss Carrington."

Raven chuckled. I shall address you as Cody. I rather like the name.

"And I rather dislike you, Raven."

"Whether you like me or not is of little consequence, Cody. Once you agree to what will be asked of you, you shall report to me."

I do not understand. Once I agree to what? She lifted her chin defiantly. And I have no intention of reporting to you…or to any man for that matter.

Again, he smiled, amused by her bravado. "You are a feisty one. Tomorrow a carriage will take you to Lord Huntingdon’s country estate and there you shall speak with your great-uncle who will explain everything."

"My great-uncle is in prison awaiting the hangman’s noose, thanks to you. And I have not been permitted to see him…also probably thanks to you."

"You have not been permitted to visit him definitely due to my instructions. All of England believes that your great-uncle is imprisoned at Newgate Prison here in London. But he is not. Instead, he is hidden at his lordship’s estate."

I do not believe you.

Raven shrugged again as if her belief or disbelief was of no concern to him. Travel to Lord Huntingdon’s estate and verify whether I speak the truth or not. Suddenly Raven whirled around, causing his long cape to swirl with his sudden movement, and lithely swung his legs over the wrought-iron banister of the balcony, disappearing from Cody’s view.

Cody ran to the balustrade and peered down, instantly spying the cloaked man climbing down a trellis, with his flowing cape suggesting the wings of a blackbird taking flight, before agilely jumping to the ground. He then ran through bushes and jumped over the picket gate separating the alley from the garden now barren in the chilly month of November. He untethered his black stallion, mounted the beast and galloped down the cobblestone alleyway in a northerly direction.

Seconds later, he was no longer in sight and only the horse’s hooves could be heard galumphing on the cobblestones, fading rapidly in the distance.

Cody frowned before sighing audibly. She had traveled the long and arduous journey from St. Louis to London to exonerate her great-uncle’s name. He had been arrested for treason, but she knew with every fiber of her being that he was innocent. Now the very man who had accused her uncle was agreeing with her conviction and confirming Lord Barry’s innocence. Her brow furrowed once again. And who was this Lord Huntingdon who was supposedly shielding her great-uncle?

Her eyes dropped to the small pistol she still held in her left hand. She must carry it with her everywhere. No one could be trusted…except her great-uncle. And if there was the slightest possibility that she could see and speak with him, then she would go to this Lord Huntingdon’s estate.

Cody lifted her eyes in the direction to which Raven had ridden on horseback.

She especially did not trust him.

Chapter Two

He stood framed by the open double French doors with his left shoulder leaning casually against the doorjamb and arms crossed against his broad chest. One booted foot was crossed over the other and his head was cocked over his right shoulder, watching the lady.

He could not stop grinning, wickedly, as he watched the young woman examining a figurine, she had picked up off its customary resting place on the marble mantel. She appeared intrigued by it and rightly so for it was an artifact discovered in Greece and one of his favorite possessions. The figurine represented the goddess of beauty, Aphrodite, but the inanimate object could not compare to the radiantly beautiful woman now holding the statuette in her gloved hand.

He thought she was perhaps one of the most attractive women he had ever set eyes upon and yet she was far from the conventional English beauty. He could only see wisps of pale blonde hair peeking out from beneath her blue bonnet, framing her perfectly symmetrical, heart-shaped face. Her brown eyes seemed too large for that face and their almond-shape, curved slightly upward at the outer corners, were mesmerizing. She was not some pale English lady, wary of the sun’s rays, but a vibrant woman whose complexion was kissed by the sun and lightly tanned. She was perfectly shaped with her tiny waist and swaying hips. And when she moved, there was a gracefulness which any professional dancer would envy, and that grace seemed to call to his sexual desires. She was the most sensual creature he had ever encountered.

He was drawn from his observations by her words.

How long do you plan to stand in the doorway and observe my every move? Cody slowly turned to face the startled lord who pushed away from the doorframe and stood with hands clenched behind his back and booted feet braced widely apart, looking rather sheepish.

Beg pardon, Miss Carrington, but I could not resist watching you as you examined the contents of this room. You appear to have an appreciative eye for antiquities.

She smiled a radiant smile and he felt as though he had just stepped from the shadows into the sunshine and the sun bathed him in its warmth…or rather her smile did.

I appreciate all things beautiful, be they old or new. I am here to see Lord Huntingdon. Are you his Man-of-Affairs?

He chuckled. No, I am not his Man-of-Affairs. I am the lord you seek. He bowed slightly as he formally introduced himself. I am Jonas Jacobs, Earl of Huntingdon. Welcome to Briar Estate, Miss Carrington.

Cody blinked before stammering, Y-you are his lordship? I-I was expecting an older gentleman.

Jonas smiled a radiant smile of his own as he slowly crossed to where Cody stood. He lifted her right gloved hand and softly kissed the back of it. "My father died before I reached my majority and I assumed the title of Earl. There are many young Earls among the peerage."

She smiled, wanly, averting her eyes as she pulled her hand from his grasp.

My butler was amiss not to have taken your cape and bonnet.

I will not be staying long.

No…?

"A cloaked figure visited me last night and strongly suggested that I visit you. You have obviously anticipated my arrival as you have addressed me by name."

I have been expecting you. And was your visitor’s name Raven?

Yes, and I found him most insufferable to say the least. I do not believe his claims that my great-uncle is here on your property. But since I am not permitted to visit my great-uncle at the prison, I thought to investigate Raven’s claim, nonetheless.

Yes, the mysterious Raven can be rather annoying at times, but his claim is true. Lord Barry is here.

Her eyes widened, incredulously. M-my great-uncle is here?

Yes, but we must talk before you visit him. I must prepare you for the worst.

Why? What have you done to my Uncle Frederick? Her brown eyes narrowed as she puckered her lips in pugnacious annoyance. If you have harmed him in any way, you shall answer to me, Lord Huntingdon.

Jonas’ eyes were instantly drawn to her puckered lips and oddly, he wanted to kiss away her pugnacity. Instead, he stepped backward, away from the angered woman, with his hands held in mimed surrender. I have done nothing but offer comfortable accommodations to his lordship.

Cody looked perplexed.

And Jonas thought she looked adorable in her confusion.

Then why must you prepare me for the worst?

Jonas outstretched his arm, miming for Cody to sit on the settee.

She bit her lower lip before complying with Jonas’ suggestion. Then, she slowly walked to the piece of furniture dominating the center of the room and sat with ladylike grace, spreading her long skirts about her legs.

Jonas lowered his head as an attempt to avert his eyes from her lips. She looked so vulnerable, biting her full lower lip, and Jonas could not help but wish that he was the one biting that lush lip. Once she was seated, Jonas sat on the upholstered chair nearest the green velvet sofa and rested his elbows on his muscular thighs with his hands cupped between his knees. When was the last time you saw your great-uncle?

I do not think that…

Interpreting a reluctance to respond, Jonas interrupted, Please trust me and answer the question.

Her dark brows drew together, and a slight wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows before she spoke. "I do not trust you nor do I trust that shadowy Raven. I trust only my great-uncle."

Jonas nearly smiled. Lord Barry had described his great-niece as a spitfire and Jonas heartily agreed. There was a courageous boldness to her that would serve her well should she agree to what would be asked of her. Lord Barry trusts me.

That is yet to be seen.

And you shall see but firstly, when did you last see your uncle?

She sighed in resignation. I last saw him when he left St. Louis, after an extended visit, approximately three months past.

Is that when your mother died? Jonas sensitively asked.

Cody averted her eyes as they began to well with tears. She and my Aunt Harriet both died in a horrific carriage accident, last spring. Uncle Frederick came immediately following their deaths and stayed in St. Louis throughout the summer, returning here to England in late August.

I offer my heartfelt condolences for your loss, Miss Carrington.

Without looking at Jonas, she murmured her thanks.

Is that when your great-uncle asked you to come live with him here in England? And you graciously refused his offer, choosing to stay where you grew up, surrounded by friends but no family.

She jerked her head back toward Jonas and stared into his eyes. How do you know all of this? And why should my personal choices be of any concern to you.

Jonas ignored her questions and continued as if she had not spoken. How was your great-uncle’s health at the time?

Robust…he was in robust health. Why are you asking these questions?

Jonas lowered his eyes to his clenched hands. To prepare you for what you are about to see.

Cody gasped as he placed her right gloved hand over her gaping mouth. Was Uncle Frederick tortured upon his arrest?

No, no, Miss Carrington, but… he is not well. The robust man you saw three months prior is no more. The man you will see today is gravely ill and in need of your services.

Cody abruptly stood. "Now you are speaking as cryptically as that mysterious Raven. I want to see my great-uncle. If he is here, take me to him now."

Jonas had stood in perfect concert with Cody, in polite deference to the standing lady. As you wish I shall take you to him. He is resting in a guest chamber on the second floor. But afterwards, we shall talk in greater depth. Jonas mimed for her to lead the way out of the front parlor and into the foyer.

Cody haughtily lifted her chin and crossed to the exit with hips oscillating.

Jonas could not take his eyes off her alluringly swaying hips, appearing even more seductive by her determined gait.

He marveled at what a truly sensual creature she was and quite obviously oblivious to her innate allure.

He had best be on guard.

Chapter Three

She did not like Lord Huntingdon climbing the stairs behind her. She felt as though his piercing blue eyes were boring into her, trying to decipher her very essence. She had never seen such intensely blue eyes before and their hue appeared even more blue against his lightly tanned complexion and shiny jet-black hair, worn long and tied in a queue with one errant lock of hair kissing his forehead. The sheen of his hair reminded her of the black plumage of a raven.

He was perhaps one and thirty years of age…

A sudden thought teased her mind.

She slightly stumbled, and she felt his hand brace her elbow to steady her. She turned and smiled, appreciatively, but said not a word as thoughts were whirling about her mind. Lord Huntingdon appeared to be the same height and lean, slender build of the mysterious Raven. But Cody mentally admitted that there were probably scores of men in England with similar height and build. Yet, how many possessed hair, reminiscent of raven feathers? And Raven was the spy’s operative name.

Before turning again to ascend the stairs, Lord Huntingdon smiled at her and Cody thought that she would stumble a second time from the mesmerizing radiance of that smile. Earlier when he had smiled, she felt inexplicable pinpricks of pleasure at her intimate core and she had averted her eyes so as not to let him see how oddly affected she was.

Quickly, she turned her back to him and continued to climb the stairs to the upper landing. Reaching the landing she turned to the Earl, with one dark eyebrow raised, quizzically.