The day dawned gray and drizzly, but unlike the previous day, Tristan didn’t have anything to look forward to when he rose from bed. He dressed sluggishly, wishing that his valet hadn’t been occupied with Harker, so at least he would have had a bit of company. He tried to avoid thinking of the company he would have liked to have had.

It was bad enough that he would have to see her this morning. And keep a close eye on her, at that. He scrubbed a hand over his chin, feeling stubble but mustering no desire to shave it clean again. With a sigh, he left his room and trudged down to the breakfast room. At least Lucy wasn’t waiting to pepper him with questions about Freddie, this time.

As he reached the threshold of the breakfast room, he gathered himself, threw back his shoulders, and strode in.

Freddie was waiting for him. She perched on the edge of her seat, an empty teacup resting in its saucer, the last remnants of her breakfast. The moment he stepped into the room, she raised her gaze and met his. She smiled.

She might as well have gutted him. It felt the same.

Launching to her feet, she lifted a mug and napkin. She held it out to him.

He eyed the offering warily. “What’s this?”

“Think of it as self-preservation. You’re always a beast in the morning, and I know you plan on dogging my heels all day. I might as well do what I can to put you in a sweeter mood.”

Cautiously, he accepted the bundle. He took a seat across from her at the end of the table. When he unfolded the napkin, he found a single piece of warm bread smothered with butter from corner to corner, just the way he liked it. His coffee was strong and bitter—not as hot as he might have liked, but he had obviously made her wait.

When he met her gaze again, she gave him an eager smile. “Does it meet your approval?” Her voice was chipper, cheerful.

He nodded. His murky head started to fade as he gulped the coffee, alternating with bites of bread. She’d remembered his chosen breakfast, even though they hadn’t known each other for more than four days.

Could it be that she noticed him, after all? Not Tristan the spy or Tristan the duke’s brother, but Tristan Graylocke. The man he was when no one was watching.

Something warm unfolded in his chest, but he tried not to look at it too deeply. Freddie was still his enemy…wasn’t she? He didn’t know what to believe—or what he wanted to believe.

He busied himself finishing his breakfast as she tapped out a cheerful beat on the tabletop. Suddenly, the day’s events seemed much sunnier.

* * *

Tristan barely spoke two words to Freddie while he ate. She tried not to take his churlishness to heart. After all, as she’d said, he always acted a beast in the morning. If he treated her no differently than he had the day before, did that mean that he’d forgiven her for her transgression last night?

She gritted her teeth. The beat she drummed onto the table faltered. It is not a transgression. After all, he’d known when he’d started to romance her that they were on opposite sides.

She battled the urge to lower her head into her hands. Whatever Tristan was interested in, it couldn’t be romance. Not with her. No, if anything, he was trying to trick her to give up the mission Harker had set her. She resumed the beat of her fingers against the wood table, slower this time. If Tristan thought he could trick her, she should be proud to have proven him wrong.

Instead, she felt guilty for fighting the pull of his kiss, even for a moment. His gaze lingered on her face. She averted her eyes.

The moment he finished his breakfast, she jumped to her feet. “Are you ready to seize the day?”

The noise of derision he made drew her attention. He raised his eyebrows as he slowly straightened. “It’s raining out. The day is shaping up to be miserable.”

A sly smile curved her lips. “The day is whatever you make of it.”

He stepped around the table, falling in line with her. “Given the look on your face, I gather you have an idea of what you’d like to make of today?”

Her smile widened. “I hear you’re a formidable chess player. I thought I’d trounce you a time or three and teach you some manners.”

A wicked glint entered his gaze as he grinned. Her heart skipped a beat under the full force of that smile. It was a formidable weapon. She swallowed, trying not to show how effective it was.

He is the enemy, she told herself. Unfortunately, that argument was getting weaker and weaker with each repetition.

He leaned closer, so close her senses hummed with the spicy scent of his cologne. “You can try, but don’t think I’m going to let you win.”

“I like a challenge.” Her voice was a bit breathy. She glanced away before his nearness conjured memories of his kiss.

Too late. Her body tightened with an ache she hadn’t been able to appease since last night. All she wanted was to turn back time and lose herself in that kiss once more.

Tristan offered his arm to her. “In that case, shall we adjourn to the library?”

“Of course.” She tried to act confident but that mien vanished the moment she laid her hand on his sleeve. The muscular flesh of his forearm only served to remind her of a time not too long ago when he’d encircled her with that arm.

He didn’t appear to be afflicted by the same wayward thoughts. Had it been a calculated seduction? If so, he was certainly an asset to the French. Even knowing that they were on opposite sides didn’t stop her from wanting to kiss him again.

The moment he led her into the hall, Freddie stiffened. Harker stood in the doorway to a sitting room diagonally from the breakfast room. His beady eyes narrowed as he beheld Freddie on Tristan’s arm. Had he been waiting for her?

When he smiled, the expression did not meet his eyes. “Frederica, may I have a moment?”

No. Every bone in her body rebelled at the idea, even as she knew she had to accept. She clenched her teeth and started to withdraw her hand from Tristan’s sleeve.

He pinned it beneath his. The glare he leveled at Harker could be considered nothing less than lethal. “I’m afraid we have an engagement elsewhere.” He half-turned, shielding her with his body as he urged her in the opposite direction. He didn’t once look at her, but the fierceness in his tone and stance left no doubt that he was protecting her.

From Harker, the man everyone accepted as her relation, and therefore a man she could trust.

At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to melt into Tristan’s embrace, to let him hold her up for just a moment while she caught her breath. She was always the shield, the barrier keeping Harker from her family. Mama played her part—Freddie couldn’t prevent that—but she did what she could to mitigate it. No one stood up to place themselves between her and Harker, not the way Tristan did.

It felt good to be protected, even if she couldn’t let herself get used to it.

“I won’t take more than a moment of her time.”

Harker’s voice was cutting. When Freddie shut her eyes for a moment, gathering herself, she saw her sister’s bright, smiling face. Freddie laid her free hand on Tristan’s arm. The bunch of his muscles beneath her palm was an ominous sign.

“This won’t take long, I promise.” Her voice was faint. She didn’t look him in the eye. Instead, she fixed her gaze on the tight muscle in his jaw. It twitched.

His hand loosened over hers as he nodded curtly. She retracted her arm and he took a step back, but he didn’t move far. She hoped her voice wouldn’t carry.

She pinned Harker beneath her stare. At that moment, she’d never disliked him more.

No, dislike was too tame a word. She loathed him. She didn’t understand why the British government would employ such a snake. Could it be they didn’t know his character?

Perhaps they didn’t care, so long as he served their purposes. Right now, Freddie was the one putting herself in harm’s way while Harker looked on disapprovingly.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice blunt. She didn’t care if she displayed coarse manners. Harker had…

What? His only crime this morning was in approaching her and Tristan when she’d rather not be gifted with the ugly sight of his face. She and Tristan were supposed to be enemies. In fact, they were, they must be, despite the protective way he’d tried to keep her from Harker. Perhaps it was yet another ploy to draw her onto his side.

It won’t work. Her family’s future was at stake—and her future, too.

Harker’s lip curled as he leaned closer. His breath reeked, stale from sleep. “You haven’t found me the book, yet. You said you knew where it was.”

“I was mistaken.” The words cost her dearly, but she could offer no others. Her last lead on the code book’s whereabouts had led her into a trap.

“At this rate, the party will end and you will be left empty-handed!”

She swallowed hard. A painful lump formed in her throat. She could barely speak around it. “I’ll find the book.” Was she lying? The words tasted sour.

What if she couldn’t do it?

She grappled for any excuse. Peeking over her shoulder, she found Tristan staring in their direction, his expression dark.

She swung back to face Harker. “I’m making progress. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m beguiling the man who has possession of the book.”

Was she? Or was he beguiling her?

She swallowed again, thickly. “Once I’ve gained his trust, he’ll lead me to where the book is hidden.”

Harker’s expression grew even colder, glacial even. He drew himself up, even though he wasn’t much taller than Freddie. Staring down his nose at her, he said, “You’d do well to find it sooner, rather than later. Your poor sister is looking dreadfully out of sorts to be left all by her lonesome while you tarry.”

Horror washed over her, quickening her pulse. It throbbed painfully in the base of her throat. Was that a threat? Surely he wouldn’t touch Charlie, not while under the Graylockes’ roof.

He won’t touch her after, either. That, Freddie vowed. No matter the cost, she would keep her sister safe.

When she turned, she met Tristan’s gaze. His dark brown eyes were sharp, disapproving. He was the key to keeping her sister out of Harker’s clutches. Her personal feelings for him didn’t matter. She had to find that book at all costs.

With a faked smile to hide the unease seething inside her, she approached him. “I’m terribly sorry about that. Shall we continue to the library?”

He nodded, stiffly. His steely gaze drifted past her, to Harker, as he offered his arm. She slid her hand into place and composed herself as they walked away.

The library granted her some comfort. The soaring shelves of books loomed over her like benevolent guardians. She relaxed as Tristan led her to one of the seats by the fireplace. A fire had been stoked in the grate, but it must have been a while since the servants had attended to it because it had started to burn low. Upon helping her into the padded arm chair, Tristan positioned a high, square table next to her and retreated to fetch the chess board.

He seemed perfectly content to ignore the fact that they were enemies, each fighting on opposite sides of a war. Freddie’s country relied on her to filch the book from him—but that would not have mattered a whit to her if the mission had threatened the well-being of her family. How did Tristan feel about his duty? Had Britain ever offered him employment or had they turned him away? Freddie found it hard to believe that the government would choose to employ Harker over Tristan. At least Tristan didn’t send others out to do his work; he faced it head on. That, or else he didn’t find Freddie to be a formidable opponent.

She clenched her fists. I’ll show him. When she found the book and delivered it to Harker, she would show everyone. Most of all, herself.

As he seated himself across from her and set up the board, she mused, “There are enough books in here to educate an army. I can only imagine how many of them are scattered in other places throughout the abbey.”

He didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he presented her with the white side of the board, graciously allowing her to take the first turn. She did, moving her knight out from behind her row of pawns. His eyebrows twitched as he beheld the move. Most people led with a pawn.

Freddie preferred to remind him that she was not most people.

As he made his move—moving his pawn one square away from the queen—he said, “I am quite proud of our collection. We have some tomes in London, of course, but not to this extent. Have you explored our selection?”

“I have.” She moved one of her pawns, freeing a path for her bishop.

His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the placement of her pieces, measuring her strategy. She waited, unconcerned, for him to make a move.

Almost absently, he asked, “And did you find something to your liking?”

“I didn’t find what I was looking for.”

He raised his gaze, his eyes sharp as his fingers hovered over the head of his pawn. “Not every book is available in our library, extensive though it may be.”

For some reason, the disapproval in his eyes and voice as he caught on to the fact that she referred to the code book shredded her gut into ribbons. She waited for him to finish his move, then quickly made one of her own.

Heaven help her, but she craved his good opinion. She liked the amiable truce they’d formed. She didn’t want to bloody well do this spying business anymore.

She had no choice. But it was obvious from his tone that he wasn’t about to tell her the location of the code book. She would have to find out on her own, when she could rid herself of his company.

Not now.

She cleared her throat. “I did borrow a novel by Mrs. Radcliffe that I hadn’t read yet.”

Some of the tension in the air eased with this neutral topic. “Oh? And how did you find it?”

She countered his move and took one of his pawns. He frowned. She grinned. She wasn’t going to let him win, either.

“Actually, I was a bit disappointed in it. I like her later novels better.”

He leaned his elbow on the arm of his chair and propped up his chin as he mulled over his next move. Freddie counted only three viable options to put him in a favorable position, and she’d already lined up her pieces to counter the one she thought him most likely to choose.

He surprised her, proving himself a worthier opponent than she’d earlier assessed. She might have to take more time to think over her moves going forward.

He said, “And what sort of book impresses you?”

“I prefer not to see women painted as weak and malleable. Men can be just as weak.”

His eyebrow twitched as she made her move. At her play or at her words? She kept her finger on the top of her bishop, holding it in place as she reconsidered the move. No, she liked it. She let it stand.

“Are you referring to The Monk?”

She smirked. “You’ve read it too, have you?”

“I have, though I have to say, I don’t know how well I’d like to be cast in Ambrosio’s role.”

She grinned. “Exactly.”

He gave a rueful shake of the head as he met her gaze. “You’re something of a feminist, aren’t you?”

She bristled. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No.” He offered the word with a shrug of his shoulders. It was a casual statement, a fact.

She’d half-expected him to belittle her.

He added, “There are weak and malleable women in this world—men, too, I’m sure. But you, Freddie Vale, are not in danger of becoming one of them.”

His adamant tone teased a smile from her lips. “You aren’t one, either.”

That seemed to please him. The grin that curved his mouth was nothing less than radiant. Her heart lurched as he asked after other books she liked, leaning closer to her as if the answer was vital to him. As if he cherished her opinions.

Was there any way that Harker could be wrong about Tristan being a French spy? Maybe he was a double agent. Anything would be better than him being her enemy.

Because, deep down, a small part of her feared that it would be very easy to fall in love with him. And that was the one thing she couldn’t afford to do.