Page 98 of Give Him a Chance

Either way, it had not mattered. Hovell had always been a quiet, unassuming man, the sort one could see several times and still struggle to describe. He had always hunched, always grinned inanely even when giving quite serious instructions, and had once let slip that his first name was Obadiah, which was probably why he went by Hovell.

Bernard smiled. Even the man’s name was a tad unpleasant.

But his smile faded as he took in the version of Hovell who was seated before him. This was a very different man.

Hovell tapped his index fingers together in front of his face. “You look disconcerted.”

“I am,” Bernard said honestly, not seeing much point in hiding the truth. Where had that gotten him? All it had done was lose him Lucy. “You look…different.”

“‘Different’?” The man before him shrugged, and there was a looseness and a cavalier attitude that made Bernard’s neck prickle. “I will admit, it was quite a wrench, deciding not to dress up for you. I’ve got so accustomed to borrowing oil from Frank, though she doesn’t know I take it. Or why.”

Now Bernard’s stomach dropped. “Frank… ‘She’?”

“My sister,” said Hovell lightly.

What the devil did the man think he was doing, revealing a personal fact about himself to Bernard? Didn’t Hovell remember how they had always agreed to keep as much about each other a secret as possible?

A strange sense of uncertainty crept up Bernard’s spine. He had heard someone refer to a Frank as a woman before. And that meant Hovell either wasalsorelated to a woman named Frank, who, in an especially strange detail the spy had accidentally let slip, somehow possessed a great amount of engineering oil, or…he knew all about Bernard’s time with Lucy, down to the smallest detail of their conversations.

And that was even more disconcerting.

Or…Or… There were a great number of Chance cousins. Bernard had commented on that fact to Lucy. Perhaps the man had intentionally spoken of Frank to test Bernard’s astuteness. How many Lady Franks could there have been in England?

“You look surprised.”

Bernard cleared his throat. “I… Well. You know my true name, and I know the name you’ve provided to me, but other than that…you told me when we first started working together that it was safer to keep details like that private. That they could be used against us.”

Hovell’s eyes glittered. “But you are leaving the service.”

Oh. Oh, yes.

How had he completely forgotten that?

Probably, Bernard realized darkly, because his mind had been otherwise occupied with a beautiful face and a passionate heart that had loved not only him, but justice, just as he was passionate about justice. How could he have failed to fall in love with her?

“Right,” Bernard said quietly. “Yes, of course.”

“Now I have not inquired as to why you have decided to leave the service,” Hovell continued lightly. Even his accent was different, richer. More refined. “But I presumed it was because of a woman, and after receiving your letter about Lucy…”

All the hackles on Bernard’s neck went up. “Lady Lucy.”

Why it mattered that the man show the proper respect to the woman, Bernard did not know. But it mattered.

And the pushback allowed him to test his theory as to Hovell’s real identity.

“Indeed?” Hovell appeared distinctly unconvinced, which was never a good sign.

Bernard was not the best spy in the world, he would readily admit that. He was not sent out to France or to Germany, but into England’s prisons, but he did very well there.

And he knew Hovell.

Or at least, he thought he had.

“Now, you wrote to me about Lady Lucy, as you say, just before you left. On her own paper, by the way, which was not very good form,” Hovell said lazily.

“I didn’t have access to any other—” Bernard stopped himself before he went any further as a chill settled within him.

On her own paper.