“Three trees? Is this really necessary?” complained Wilder.
I nodded in response.
“Have you been in to see the duke this morning?”
Neither my father nor my mother had ever suggested my brother or I call them Duke and Duchess; it was just something we’d started doing when we were teenagers. Our sister, Darrow, hadn’t followed suit and still called them Mother and Father.
“I see him every morning, Wild.”
“He doesn’t look good.”
I helped Wellie, the head groundskeeper who had been part of our lives since my brother, sister, and I were children, load the first of the trees into the back of the estate wagon.
What did Wild expect me to say? Our father as we’d known him was gone. In his place was a man who couldn’t speak, eat on his own, or get himself up to use the toilet. The effects of the series of strokes he’d had, had left him a shell of his former self.
As much as I knew better, I still prayed the duke wasn’t fully aware of his deteriorated condition. It was the only way I could cope with looking into my father’s haunted eyes each morning. If I thought those eyes were imploring me to end his suffering, the guilt of being unable to do so would eat me alive.
“Good morning, lass,” said Wellie, breaking me out of my reverie.
The three of us had started calling Alcott Fulton “Wellie” when we were children, given we’d never seen the man wear any footwear besides Wellington boots.
“Good morning,” said Darrow, kissing the old man’s cheek. “These wankers couldn’t chop down trees on their own?” she asked before walking over to hug first Wilder and then me.
“Mind your tongue,” said Wellie, but with a smile that conveyed the love he had for the woman who had always been like a daughter to him.
“Axel is trying to reach you,” she whispered in my ear.
I pulled out my mobile and saw I’d missed two calls and a text.
“Excuse me,” I said to her, Wilder, and Wellie.
“Tell me something worthwhile,” I said when the man my sister called Axel but most everyone else referred to as Pinch, answered my call.
“The news is good and bad.”
“Get on with it.”
“She was here, but it appears we just missed her.”
“Where?”
“Rovani.”
What in the bloody hell was she doing in Lapland, Finland, at this time of year when it was rarely warmer than minus twenty Celsius?
“There’s more.”
“Go on, Pinch.”
“It doesn’t appear she’s alone.”
I closed my eyes. The stabbing pain I experienced just thinking about Losha, intensified to the equivalent of a hundred blades. Is this why she refused to surface, refused to make contact? Had she found someone else? The idea of it filled me with as much sorrow as rage. How could she? In the span of a few months, she’d moved on?
The idea of it would have been ludicrous delivered by anyone other than Pinch. The man, who happened to be Wellie’s only child, was like a fourth sibling, not just to me, but to Wilder and Darrow too.
“Shiv?”
“Yeah. I’m here.”
“I’m not sure you understand. The neighbor reported seeing a child. Not a child really—a baby.”
The muscles in my abdomen clenched. A baby? It couldn’t be hers; Losha had been sterilized by the KGB when she was eighteen. Although, the KGB had certainly been known to lie. In fact, I’d heard through intel circles that the fiancée of a good friend of his, a woman Losha had been recruited and trained with, was currently pregnant.
“Who’s the man?”
“What man?”
“The one she’s with.”
“I never said anything about a man.”
“I’m not following.”
“Those we questioned failed to mention anyone other than the woman and her baby.”
“No one else?”
“That’s right.”
“Flipping hell,” I muttered, running my hand through my hair. “I need to find her.”
“On it, Shiv. Sorry I missed her.”
“I’ll work it on this end. At least we know where she’s traveling from. In the meantime, get your arse home.”
“I’m not coming home for the holiday this year.”
I walked farther away. “I’m with your father as we speak.”
“He’s aware.”
“If this is about Losha—”
“It’s not.”
“If I find out otherwise…”
“I swear on my father’s life it’s not. How’s that?”
I cringed. “Jesus, Pinch.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
I heard the familiar sound of the call ending and wished I could continue walking away. I needed time on my own to think.
“Everything okay?” Darrow approached and asked.
“Yes, fine,” I snapped.
“Was your call about Father?”
I reached out and put my arm around my sister’s shoulders; she looked as though she was about to cry. “No, nothing to do with the duke.”
She pulled back and looked into my eyes.
“I promise.”
“I haven’t been to see him yet this morning.”
I kissed her forehead. “Go on, then.”
She waved behind her as she walked away.
“Where’s she off to?” asked Wilder.
“To see the duke.”
“What’s wrong?”
“As I told her, nothing. She hasn’t been up to the house yet this morning.”
Darrow lived on the estate in one of the smaller residences, called Covington House. I laughed to myself. Being away from home for so long and then being back again skewed my perspective. The ten-thousand-square-foot home was hardly small.
“Not with the duke; with you. Was the call about Losha?”
I looked away. “It was.”
“And?”
I turned back and met my brother’s eyes. “Do you think you can handle getting the other two trees on your own?”
Wilder studied me. “Definitely,” he said giving me a half-hearted shove.
“We’ll talk later.”
Rather than going back to the main house, I kept walking.
Pinch hadn’t said how old the baby was, and I hadn’t asked. If the intel he’d collected was accurate, that Losha had a child with her, it explained why she’d remained underground. I wondered who the father was, if the baby was, in fact, hers. Was he in the picture? Just because Pinch hadn’t seen or heard about a man from the neighbors he’d questioned, didn’t mean there wasn’t one.
“Every flight out of every airport remotely close to Lapland, Finland—every flight out of Europe. I don’t care what it costs, Doc. I can’t run this through SIS,” I said to the man who was one of my oldest and dearest friends. He had been since Doc Butler was a green CIA agent and I was a greener MI6 operative. We’d worked together so many times, I’d lost count.
“Understood. Be specific about what we’re looking for.”
“A couple traveling with a baby. Either that or a woman and a baby.”
“Traveling at the holidays?”
“I get it. Needle in a haystack.” I knew exactly what I was asking of Doc. “As I said, no matter the cost.”
“This could get very expensive, Shiv. It’s the week before Christmas.”
“I’m well aware.” How could I explain that I had to know? Whomever Losha was with, whomever the baby’s father was, I had to know.
“It isn’t just the monetary cost, Shiv. What about the personal one, and by that, I mean to you?”
“What I said before stands. No matter the cost. I have to know where she is.”
“And if I said no?”
“I’d call Merrigan.”
Doc laughed as did I. As far back as he and I went, Merrigan and I had known each other longer, since university. If Doc didn’t assign a team to this, his wife would make bloody well sure he did.
“How’s your father?”
“Not well. Thank you for asking. I can’t leave England presently.”
“I’m sorry, Shiv, and I understand. I’ll bring the team up to speed and will keep you posted on our progress.”
“I appreciate it.”
An hour passed before I returned to the main house to find the duchess, Darrow, and Wilder having tea in our mother’s favorite drawing room.
“Come, Thornton,” she said, waving me over.
When my eyes met Wilder’s, I knew my brother recognized my worry.
“Hey, Shiv. Fancy a trip to town?” he asked.
I didn’t miss our mother’s frown at my brother’s use of what she considered an inappropriate “nickname.”
“Why do you need to go to town?” asked Darrow.
“Bit of shopping to do,” Wilder answered without looking at her.
“For?”
“Darrow, please.”
Our sister scowled at him. “You’re both so secretive.”
“It’s the nature of the job, dear sister,” said Wilder, putting his arm around her shoulders.
“This has nothing to do with ‘the job,’ and you both know it.”
“No need to pout. It’s Christmas after all,” I reminded her.
She laughed. “I don’t believe whatever secrets you’re keeping have anything to do with Christmas either.”
She was right, not that either Wilder or I would tell her so.
“Excuse me a moment,” said our mother, leaving the room.
“What news of Axel?” Darrow asked once she was certain the duchess was out of earshot.
“He said he won’t be home for the holidays this year,” I answered. “Why do you ask?”
When she murmured, “Just curious,” I looked at Wilder, who raised his eyebrow.
“I saw that,” she said between sips of tea. “You aren’t the only ones with secrets, you know.”
Wilder laughed out loud. “Are you suggesting that you and Axel have a secret?”
Darrow shrugged a shoulder.
“What are the three of you discussing?” our mother asked, rejoining us.
“I’m not certain, but I think it might involve a secret romance,” answered Wilder, winking at our sister, who stuck her tongue out at him.
“Is there a chance any of the three of you will ever give me grandchildren? And Thornton, I remind you, the responsibility of an heir rests on your shoulders.”
I inwardly cringed at both of my mother’s comments. That she was anxious for grandchildren only served as a reminder that Losha may have had a child with another man, as did her comment about producing an heir. Not that I held the same line of thinking as my mother. These weren’t the dark ages. My brother or sister could take over the estate at any time. In fact, it was something I wanted to discuss with them while Wilder and I were home for the holiday.
“One day, Duchess, I’m sure one of us will make you a grandmum—”
“What do you say?” asked Wilder, abruptly standing and motioning toward the door.
His reaction was puzzling. I waited for him to say more, and when he didn’t, I stood and walked over to our mother. “We’ll be back soon, Duchess,” I said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.
She smiled and nodded, focusing her attention back on Darrow. “Your sister can keep me company.”
I almost laughed out loud at Darrow’s scowl.
“What was that all about? I mean I was joking, and then the duchess went straight to ‘when are you going to give me grandkids,’” asked Wilder, climbing into the passenger seat of my vintage Austin-Healey 3000 MK III. The British racing green convertible with a classic tan interior had originally belonged to our father. When I left for university, the duke had gifted it to me, to the great disappointment of both Wilder and Darrow, who had each assumed the car would one day belong to them. “You don’t think Darrow’s really having a tryst with Pinch…”
“I don’t know, Wild. It seems unlikely.”
“They’re like siblings.”
I shrugged. “And yet, they’re not.”
Wilder shuddered. “He wouldn’t.”
There were plenty of people whom I might’ve once thought the same thing about. I never would’ve thought Losha would walk out of my life, only to have a child with another man, either.
“Do you actually need to go to town?”
Wilder nodded. “I haven’t done a lick of shopping for the holiday, have you?”
I shook my head. I’d never been big on Christmas. Too often I’d attempted to use the excuse of a mission to get out of the annual family gathering. It had rarely worked. Somehow, my mother had easily ascertained whether I was actually required to be away or not.
“Fancy a stop at the pub first? The duchess insisted on tea when I would’ve much preferred a pint.”
“A baby?” asked Wilder after we’d gone through more than one pint.
“That’s what Pinch said.”
“If it had been anyone but him…”
“I thought the same thing.”
“And you’re not the father?”
“I’m not.” I’d briefly considered the possibility, but we’d never failed to use protection, plus, why would she remain in hiding, refusing to get in touch with me if the child were mine?
“How can you be so certain?”
“I’m certain.”
“I’m sorry, Shiv.”
“Me too.”