Love and Let Spy
by Shana Galen
Series: Lord and Lady Spy #3
Genre: Historical Romance, Espionage
Published: August 5th 2014 by Sourcebooks Casablanca
Format: Paperback/eBook, 352 pages
Her name is Bonde, Jane Bonde . . .
A beautiful and eligible member of the ton, Jane has more than a few secrets: she’s one of the Crown’s most elite agents. She may be deadly, but she doesn’t know a thing about fashion, flirtation, or love . . . until Dominic Griffyn shakes up her carefully stirred world and asks her to be his bride. He’s exactly the kind of man she’s not looking for. And he’s dangerous, because falling into his arms is so much more satisfying than saving England from her enemies.
He’s an improper gentleman who needs a wife. . .
Tall, dark, and tortured, Dominic Griffyn is haunted by demons from his past. When his stepfather insists that he marry, Dominic allows himself to hope that the beautiful but mysterious Miss Bonde might help him forget his troubles. As they grow closer, it’s clear that there’s more to Jane than danger. She might be just what his neglected heart needs.
“Tell me again why we must attempt this,” Butterfly said.
“Because,” Bonde answered, trying to secure a handhold and floundering slightly. Show no fear. Show no fear. Her glove slipped, and she flailed, but she managed to regain her balance by grasping a hole in the limestone with her other hand. “At some crucial juncture you might need to make a quick exit, and there are times when a window is more accessible than a door.” She glanced down at the ground, still a good distance below her. Baron stood in the shadows under them, keeping watch and occasionally glancing up and frowning. “Baron, do I have the right of it?”
“Of course,” he called up. “Talk later. Concentrate now.”
Bonde did not think chitchat much of a distraction. Having someone shoot a pistol in one’s general direction or dump a pot of hot water down the side of a building, those were credible distractions. But, she reminded herself, Butterfly was still learning. Bonde descended the next few feet in silence, listening instead to the sounds of the orchestra playing at the ball taking place inside the Grosvenor Square mansion. The low rumble of voices and the clink of champagne glasses rose above the music at times, as did the tittering laugh of some woman or other. She decided that for all the exertion of the climb down, she much preferred it here than inside.
“What is taking so long?”
Bonde knew that voice and sighed. She glanced at Butterfly above her. The other spy was still proceeding slowly but surely. Bonde could have drunk a glass of ratafia by now if she’d not moved slowly to make certain Butterfly did not need her. And now here was her uncle, expressing his usual impatience.
“We are trying to concentrate, Uncle,” she called down.
“Everyone is asking for you,” he answered. “Your aunt, in particular.”
That news was rather worrisome. What could her aunt possibly want with her? She’d worn the gown her aunt had chosen, allowed her hair to be styled by her aunt’s lady’s maid, and promised to dance with no fewer than six eligible gentlemen, none of them more than once, of course.