My Highland Spy

  Copyright © 2014 by Victoria Roberts

  Cover and internal design © 2014 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover art by Jon Paul Ferrara

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

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  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  An Excerpt from X Marks the Scot

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  To Maisy Jane, my beautiful niece, who is always one publication ahead of her favorite aunt. Enjoy what you do, and one day you will inspire the world.

  Suspicion is a heavy armor and with its weight it impedes more than it protects.

  —Robert Burns

  One

  London, England, 1609

  She had made a deal with the devil, King James to be precise.

  Lady Ravenna Walsingham silently cursed her liege as she stood huddled against the darkened wall of an alley near the London docks. She closed her eyes as a light rain misted her face. Although she felt miserable, she knew the information she sought would assist the Crown in discovering the latest conspiracy against it.

  She pulled her heavy cloak tighter around herself, shivering from a sudden chill. The cold could have been due to the scantily clad clothing she wore underneath, but she quickly pushed back the thought. All she needed was to catch a glimpse of who dastardly Lord Cobham was conversing with in the latest string of unsavory establishments.

  She wiped the drops from her face and had just taken a step forward when a couple of drunken men walked out of the Devil’s Tavern. As the sound of laughter approached her, she backed hastily into the shadows. The men passed her and she studied them closely. To her regret, neither man was Lord Cobham. Although the light barely illuminated their features, she knew the man she sought was shorter—at least a head shorter than she was.

  The rain hardened as Ravenna quivered against the wall like a drowned rat. Lord Cobham was more than likely not coming out any time soon. That’s when she decided to hurry things along and make her move. Besides, if she didn’t meet her driver, George, within the hour, he would undoubtedly come looking for her. The faster she could determine the person or persons with whom Lord Cobham was conspiring, the better. She was tired, cold, and wet, and wanted to be home where a warm bed awaited her.

  She made her way toward the back of the brick building. The stairs leading to the door were dark. Of course they were. Was it too much to ask for at least one assignment that worked in her favor? She climbed the steps carefully and tried not to stumble over her own two feet. Fumbling for the door, she found the latch and discreetly entered.

  The small room looked like a crowded hovel, and she suddenly had a strong desire to bathe. More than a handful of women readied their hair in the looking glass as the sound of boisterous laughter came from the adjoining room. The women wore little clothing, which reminded Ravenna to remove her cloak. She tossed her protective garment into the corner and placed her arm over her chest. She suddenly felt very open to the view of others—not to mention that her laced bodice left very little to the imagination.

  A large-bellied man came into the room and waved the women out. “Make haste, ladies. My customers need to be served. You can’t do that if you spend all your time in here pampering yourselves.” As one of the women walked by, the burly man slapped her on the bottom. He looked up, and his cold, dark eyes met Ravenna’s. “You’re the new girl, but you will quickly learn your place. Don’t just stand here staring at me. Get out there.”

  Ravenna nodded and rushed past the man, feeling his gaze upon her. She followed the lead of the other women and picked up a tray from the table. As she looked around the smoke-filled room packed with men, she noted the large barrels and ship masts built right into the structure. Being so close to the River Thames, she could see why. The tavern was often frequented by men of the sea, but she knew not to be fooled.

  The Devil’s Tavern held many secrets.

  The establishment was notorious for housing smugglers, cutthroats, thieves, and pirates. If Lord Cobham was meeting anyone here to further promote his illicit behavior, she was going to find out.

  Without warning, Ravenna was roughly pulled down onto a lap. The man’s breath reeked of ale and he smiled, fingering her locks.

  “This place keeps getting better and better. I haven’t seen you here before.” He lowered his head and sniffed down her body. “Mmm…you smell of lavender.”

  She didn’t think it wise to tell the man what he smelled like so she politely nodded. When she tried to stand, he pulled her back down and held her with a firm grip.

  “Let me tell you a little secret.” He lowered his voice and leaned forward. “I think you are by far my favorite.” His hand encircled her breast, and it took all of Ravenna’s might not to slap him. And that’s when she looked up and noticed the men.

  Dear God.

  Lord Cobham was walking straight toward her. She hastily glanced to Cobham’s right and saw Charles Paget. What was he doing here? She couldn’t risk being spotted, so she did the first thing that came to mind. She turned in the lap of the man who held her and brought his lips to hers.

  The man’s comrades cheered him on, and his hands roamed all over Ravenna in places they shouldn’t. She had to endure quite a repulsive kiss and felt as though she needed a cloth to wipe away the slobber that had escaped the man’s lips. How she despised this part of the masquerade! Only when she was confident that the two men had departed did she dare pull back, attempting not to think about the bile that rose in the back of her throat.

  She placed her finger to the man’s lips. “I have something for you. I’ll be right back.” When the man nodded, as she knew he would, she made her escape to the back room. She didn’t want to spend another moment in that place. Grabbing her cloak from the corner, she bolted out the door.

  She did not look back.

  What was Lord Cobham doing with Charles Paget? She thought Paget was still in Paris. No matter, she would simply give the information to her uncle. She wrapped her cloak tighter around herself as the cool breeze whipped her cheeks. She walked with long, purposeful strides, clutching the dagger in her pocket. She didn’t like walking the streets of London by herself, let alone by the docks in the darkened hours of the night. One of these days her luck was going to run out. She prayed it was not at this moment.

  Her uncle’s carriage waiting at the end of the dimly lit street was a welcome sight.
George climbed down upon her approach and extended his hand. He was a large man with graying hair at the temples and stood well over six feet tall. He always aided her when she needed protection from places like the Devil’s Tavern.

  “Lady Walsingham, did you find what you were looking for?”

  “Thankfully, yes.”

  “Home, my lady?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Ravenna climbed into the coach and breathed a sigh of relief. She sat back, closed her tired eyes, and fell asleep to the gentle, rhythmic movement of the carriage and the sound of clomping hoofbeats. When the carriage suddenly stopped, she was jolted awake.

  “My lady, we have arrived.”

  She took George’s hand and climbed down. “Thank you. Could you please ask my uncle to pay me a visit on the morrow?”

  He nodded. “Of course. Have a pleasant evening, Lady Walsingham.”

  Ravenna walked to the front of the manor house and quietly opened the heavy door. It was nearly midnight and the house was silent. Her sisters were already in bed. She hated when she had to be away from them, but at least she would be there in the morning as the girls broke their fast.

  She lifted her cloak and climbed the steps on the tips of her toes. As she made her way down the hall to her bedchamber, she passed the family portraits that hung on the wall. She could feel her father’s gaze upon her and couldn’t help but wonder what he would think of her now. She closed the door to her chamber, and when she heard the soft click of the latch, she sighed. Removing her cloak, she tossed it onto a chair as a faint smell of smoke invaded her senses.

  A voice spoke from her bed and Ravenna jumped.

  “Where the hell have you been? And what in the name of God are you wearing?”

  Ravenna placed her hand over her heart to make sure it didn’t leap from her chest. “Grace…”

  Her sister sat up on the bed. “What’s his name? I want to know.”

  Ravenna wasn’t in the mood for this. All she wanted was to be in her warm bed—alone. Ignoring her sister’s prodding, she donned her nightrail and nudged her sister over. “Grace, it’s late. Why don’t you seek your own bed? Please?”

  “You may fool Elizabeth and Kat, but you don’t fool me. You sneak out of the house at all hours of the night, and now I find you dressed as what? Some type of harlot? Who is he, Ravenna? Why do you have to hide him from us? Is he wed? You must tell me.”

  Ravenna shook her head and prayed for her sister’s silence. “There is no man, Grace. I’m telling you the truth.”

  The light of the candle reflected on her sister’s worried brow. “Did Uncle Walter spend our coin? Is that it? Are you selling yourself?”

  Ravenna crawled under the blankets and stifled a groan. “I beg you to please lie down and close your eyes. The time is after midnight. I’m weary.”

  Her sister huffed and punched the lumps out of the pillow. “Why won’t you talk to me? I’m seventeen. I’m old enough to understand what’s going on with you. You take care of everyone around you but yourself. You won’t even let me help you. I’m not a child anymore, and you don’t need to face this burden alone. Talk to me.”

  Ravenna didn’t see Grace roll her eyes or hear her sister curse under her breath when a little snort escaped Ravenna. It wasn’t as if she deliberately fell asleep in the middle of Grace’s rant.

  ***

  The next Ravenna knew, the door flew open and she was crushed on the bed by Elizabeth and Katherine. She must have slept sometime during the night, since the sun peeked through the windows and Grace no longer slumbered by her side.

  Ravenna let out a grunt. “Why is it you two can never let me be?”

  Elizabeth, the elder of the two, sat down on the chair. She was fourteen years old, and she had the quietest disposition of all the sisters. Her reddish-brown locks were pulled back with a ribbon. She still wore her nightrail, while Katherine and her golden curls bounced annoyingly on Ravenna’s back.

  “It’s time to get up, Ravenna. We want to go below stairs to break our fast, but Elizabeth said we had to wait for you.”

  “Kat, go get dressed and I’ll meet you soon.”

  “We know you are just going to go back to sleep as soon as we leave.” At eight years old, Kat was wise beyond her years. She sat on Ravenna’s back and sighed. “We’re not leaving until you get out of bed.”

  “All right.” Ravenna rolled over and quickly grabbed Kat, tickling the little girl relentlessly. “I’m up! I’m up!”

  “Let me go, Ravenna!”

  Elizabeth stood. “Come, Kat. Let’s get dressed.”

  “Off with you both, and I’ll meet you after I dress.”

  Ravenna walked to the washbowl and splashed cool water on her face. These long evenings had started to take their toll. Her reddened eyes made it look as though she’d been in a brawl. She dressed quickly and descended the stairs. When she made her way into the dining room, her sisters were already seated at the table along with an early-morning visitor.

  “Uncle Walter, what a pleasant surprise. I’m so glad you’re here with us on such a lovely morn,” said Ravenna, pulling out her chair.

  He swallowed his oatmeal and smiled. “I have to meet with His Majesty later this morn and I thought to pay you girls a visit.”

  Lord Walter Mildmay, her mother’s brother, had been appointed the Walsingham family’s guardian, but their situation was more pretense than anything. Uncle Walter had his own estate and family, while he permitted Ravenna and her sisters to stay under their own roof. At twenty-five years old, Ravenna handled all the accounts, managed the servants, and had served as a mother figure to the girls since the deaths of their parents.

  Uncle Walter, with his dark hair and tanned skin, was the complete opposite of Ravenna’s fair-skinned mother. No one would ever think they were of the same relation, especially because his hair was as black as night. Ravenna always thought the man looked like a bloody pirate.

  Ravenna’s father, Lord Francis Walsingham, had been Queen Elizabeth’s principal secretary until his death. Little did anyone know that her sire had also been the queen’s spy. Given that Ravenna’s father had handled all of the royal correspondence and had determined the agenda of the council meetings, he had been a very influential man in his time, which fortunately now worked in Ravenna’s favor.

  In short, she was a spy for King James and the Crown, the same as her father had been under Queen Elizabeth’s reign. When Ravenna was old enough to show an interest in political matters, her father had educated and conditioned her to one day take his place. She lived in a man’s world, but that’s why she was so proficient at doing what she did—a mere woman was the last thing anyone would expect. Her family meant everything to her, and she was determined to keep her siblings sheltered and protected for as long as possible.

  Especially from unsavory establishments like the one last eve.

  After everyone finished their meal and polite conversation, Ravenna and Uncle Walter excused themselves and met behind the closed doors of her father’s study. With the dark wooden furnishings, the large desk, and her father’s books lining the wall, the room always reminded Ravenna of her father. At times, she could swear she even smelled his scent, almost as if he wanted her to know that he still watched over her.

  “What did you find out?” asked Uncle Walter, tapping his fingers on the desk.

  Ravenna sat in her father’s chair. “I followed Lord Cobham into the Devil’s Tavern. The man he met with was Charles Paget. I thought he was still in Paris.”

  Her uncle sat forward, his eyes narrowing. “I suppose it should come as no surprise. His Majesty gave Paget back his manor of Weston-on-Trent and his other homes in Derbyshire, but we’ll be sure to keep an eye on him. As usual, I’ll pass along the information to the king’s advisors. You did well, Ravenna.”

  “Grace is questioning my sudden disappearances, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to keep the truth from her.”

  “You know as wel
l as I do that it’s better she doesn’t know what you do. Perhaps we should start thinking about arranging a marriage for her.”

  Ravenna rubbed her fingers over the bridge of her nose. “I really want to give her some time. She doesn’t show an interest in anyone at the moment, and I’m not quite ready to force her into a marriage.” She paused. “Let me think about it.”

  He bobbed his head. “There is another assignment from His Majesty.”

  “So soon? I just completed this one.” She sat forward, frowning. “What is it this time?”

  “The Highland lairds are completely out of control and the men refuse to listen. Between their squabbles among themselves and increased rebellions against the Crown, the king has required that all Highland lairds send their heirs to Lowland Scotland to be educated. Futhermore, the men are to regularly report to Edinburgh to stand for their actions. King James demands conformity and hopes that by abolishing the Gaelic language and destroying Scotland’s culture, he will get it. The lairds won’t conform on their own so the king is left with no choice but to force their hand.”

  “And what does that have to do with me, precisely?”

  “There is a man in the Highlands whom the king’s men have been watching—Laird Ruairi Sutherland. He has not sent his heir to be educated, and he has not made an appearance in Edinburgh for quite some time. Although he claims his wife is gravely ill, the king’s advisors think this is nothing more than another clever plot to refuse King James’s authority. They also believe Sutherland’s absence in Edinburgh is because he’s conspiring with other lairds in the Highlands to raise arms against the realm.” He sat back casually in the chair.

  “Whether these rumors are true or not, an example is to be made of Sutherland. The king grows tired of these…Highlanders”—he sniffed—“and their constant disobedience. These barbarians need to understand they cannot do whatever they please and pay no heed to the authority of the king. Sutherland has a formidable stronghold in northern Scotland. He could be a powerful enemy. He’s been told a governess will be sent to his home to educate his son, since his wife is ill. You will travel to the Highlands. Find out if what he says is true, or if he and others conspire against the Crown.”