Chapter 14 #4
Evie’s blood ran cold.
Wren. Her code name. The one only British Intelligence should know.
And her real name too. As she’d suspected. Likely given by her brother.
Pain knifed through her middle. Another betrayal.
And Blake’s code name was there too. Falcon.
And she’d marked them both for elimination.
Rivers knew. Not just suspected—knew. Perhaps she didn’t know Evie Montgomery was Helen Gale or Falcon was Stephen Blake, but this new information dangled much too close to identifiable. How much more had the woman discovered?
Evie’s hands steadied by sheer force of will and turned to the next page.
In the same code, she read of officers’ names and military tactics. Usual weapons used by such men. Current placements.
All listed in order for the enemy to know weaknesses. Strategies.
Here’s my proof.
She photographed the list from multiple angles, ensuring every name, every notation was captured. The small camera clicked softly—once, twice, three times.
Then she refolded the papers exactly as they had been, returned them to the false bottom, sealed the compartment, and placed the bag back beneath the bed at precisely the same angle.
She couldn’t risk Rivers discovering the intrusion. If the woman suspected someone had been in her room, she’d bolt immediately.
Or strike first when there were too many vulnerable people within this house to risk danger.
Evie stood, swept the room with one more glance to ensure nothing was disturbed, and moved toward the door.
Her hand was on the knob when she heard it.
Footsteps.
Quick, purposeful.
Coming down the corridor directly toward Rivers’ room.
Evie’s mind raced through options. The window was too small. No closet large enough. No second exit. The bed wouldn’t conceal her—Rivers would see her immediately upon entering.
The footsteps grew louder.
Blast.
“Oof!“ came a decidedly male voice, followed by the heavy thud of something hitting the floor.
Evie carefully peered through the crack in the door to find Blake sprawled on the corridor floor with Nurse Rivers standing over him, her expression caught between alarm and annoyance.
“What on earth are you doing here, Mr. Blake?”
“I’m terribly sorry, Nurse Rivers.” His speech slurred as if he were … drunk? “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Good Lord, you smell like a brewery.” She leaned down, helping him to his feet with obvious reluctance. “Have you been drinking?”
“Found something in the cupboard,” Blake mumbled, pressing a weighted hand against the woman’s shoulder for support. “Thought it might take the edge off, you understand. Then Private Jones and I had a bit while we played cards.” He squinted down at her mournfully. “I lost.”
“Clearly.” Rivers shook her head, all cheerfulness entirely gone from her expression, and the shift aged the woman a few years. How interesting that a shift in demeanor brought out the awareness that Nurse Rivers really could be the experienced spy they’d been looking for.
It was then Rivers caught sight of Evie. Her eyes narrowed for the briefest moment, flicking between them with sharp assessment. “Perhaps I should leave you in the hands of your … friend?”
Evie sneered at Blake, dropping into her housemaid’s persona instantly, complete with working-class accent.
“Please, Nurse Rivers, don’t make me tend to him.
He’s atrocious. Treats a woman’s faithful heart in the worst of ways.
If I’d known his true nature, I never would have corresponded with him in the first place. ”
“Me?“ Blake’s brow creased, and he looked as if he was struggling to keep his eyes open. “What d’you think drove me to drink in the first place? I saw you this morning. Saw you with that footman, didn’t I?
And here I’ve risked my reputation and my social standing to court you properly.
” His voice broke with theatrical devastation. “Helen!“
If she didn’t know better, she’d believe the man was utterly heartbroken. The performance nearly loosed her grin. “I’ve seen you with Mary. I know the truth.”
“Mary?” He gave his head an unsteady shake, his face scrunching into a dozen wounded creases. “Pfft. She’s just nice to talk to, is all.”
“And what am I?”
“You’re … you’re …” He swayed slightly. “You’re the one who’s broken my heart into a thousand tiny pieces, that’s what.”
Nurse Rivers raised a brow in Evie’s direction, though something cold flickered behind her pleasant expression. “Not very generous of you, Miss Gale, to take a poor soldier’s heart with so little care.”
The way Rivers spoke Evie’s surname held a hint of steel.
She knows something.
“There was nothing going on with John,” Evie protested. “Nothing but a simple conversation about the war.”
“Well, it looks to me as though you two need to sort this out.” Rivers slid her gaze from Evie down the corridor, assessing. “What are you doing in this part of the house this evening, Miss Gale?”
“Mrs. Powell asked me to deliver fresh linens to the nurses’ rooms.” Evie offered her most innocent smile. “I’d only just started when I heard the commotion.”
“Ah, of course.” Rivers’ bright smile returned, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Then you’d better be on your way—and return your missing soldier to the proper part of the house.” Her gaze moved between them again, deliberate. “Wouldn’t want anyone to be where they oughtn’t.”
“No, of course not.”
“Was I?” Blake interjected, looking down the hallway as if he’d just realized his location. “I say, is this the servants’ wing?”
Evie released a withering sigh. “You really should talk to me instead of jumping to such ridiculous conclusions. You nearly frightened Nurse Rivers to death.”
“I’ve seen worse,” Rivers said, and despite her smile, her gaze held like ice. “You know, Miss Gale, you remind me of a previous acquaintance of mine.” Her head tilted, birdlike. “Have you worked in hospitals before? Perhaps during your training?”
“No, miss. Just in households.”
“How curious.” Rivers’ gaze swept over Evie again, slower this time, almost as if cataloguing every detail.
“Ah, now I remember. A former colleague, you understand. Incredibly helpful in their work.” Her smile took a deliberate turn.
“But alas, they died aboard the Lusitania. Or I would introduce you.”
There it was. The acknowledgement. The mutual recognition.
They both knew the other knew.
And suddenly everything took a lethal turn.
Evie barely kept her expression neutral, though her pulse kicked up. “I’m sorry for your loss, miss.”
“No matter to me.” Rivers’ smile turned almost doll-like, empty and precise.
“They were nothing of consequence.” Her gaze dropped to the linens in Evie’s arms. “And there’s no need to tend to my room.
My linens are perfectly fine.” Rivers’ smile remained fixed in place, but her eyes had gone flat and calculating.
“Do give my regards to Mr. Blake when he’s sober enough to remember them.
” She turned slightly, angling her body toward her door.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have correspondence to attend to before supper service. ”
“Of course, miss.” Evie dipped a curtsy, maintaining her housemaid’s deference even as every instinct screamed danger.
Blake swayed convincingly, gaze dropping to her lips as if he had other ideas than conversation yet still playing the heartbroken drunk to perfection. “Helen, please—”
“Not now, Mr. Blake.” Evie’s voice was sharp as she tucked her arm more firmly beneath his shoulder. “You’ve embarrassed yourself quite enough for one evening.”
She steered him down the corridor, feeling Rivers’ eyes boring into her back with every step. It wasn’t until they’d turned the corner and were well out of earshot that Blake straightened, his affected stumble disappearing entirely.
“Did you get it?” he whispered.
“Everything.” Evie’s hand went to the camera concealed in her pocket. “Kill list. Code names. Both of ours.”
His jaw tightened. “Then we’re running out of time.”
“She knows I’m onto her, at least, and I feel she may suspect you too. That little performance bought us hours at best.” Evie glanced back down the corridor. “She’ll either run tonight or eliminate the threat. And we’re the threat.”
They’d found their proof.
Now they just had to survive long enough to use it.