Only a Hero Will Do (The Heart of a Hero Book 2) Read online

  “Grant, over there.” She could hear the alarm in her own voice.

  He whipped around. “Stay here,” he commanded as he went running off after the intruder.

  Elizabeth was about to follow him when she saw another figure looming in the opposite direction.

  Lifting her skirts, she ran down the steps leading to the sculpture garden. The figure was still in sight. Keeping her skirts up with one hand, she fumbled as she tried to reach for the small pocket pistol in her thigh holster.

  “Bloody hell,” she swore under her breath as she watched the intruder run further away from her. These damn bloody, impractical skirts. She wished she were wearing her breeches.

  Picking up her pace, she ran with all her might through the elaborate maze of Greek gods and goddesses. The terrace lay up ahead, just beyond the sculpture garden, and she would have a clear shot. She was within sight of the terrace when she was knocked to the ground. The air was pressed from her chest as she struggled against her attacker. Slowly he came into focus.

  “Mr. Ward?”

  A firm hand slapped her across the face, while Mr. Ward’s other hand grabbed her wrist and slammed it to the ground causing her to lose control of the pistol. He released her as searing pain rippled up her arm. Ignoring the throbbing, she clasped her hands and swung them hard into his torso. He grunted as he shifted to one side. She was about to strike again when she heard a familiar voice yell to her, “Stay down.”

  So tangled in her own skirts, she had no other option than to obey.

  A loud shot rang through the air, followed by a piercing cry. Mr. Ward grasped his chest, falling onto the ground beside her. She quickly untangled herself and edged away from the dying man.

  “Elizabeth, are you alright?” The sound of her cousin’s concerned voice reached her ears. Sophia came running from behind a cone-shaped shrub, practically sliding into Elizabeth, and embraced her.

  Shock, relief, and then comfort infiltrated every part of Elizabeth’s body. She rested her head against Sophia’s shoulder.

  Awareness began to dawn on her. Her cousin, the same person who’d asked Elizabeth to teach her how to use a bow and arrow only several days ago, had not only fired a pistol but killed a man.

  Lifting her head, Elizabeth looked into her cousin’s sapphire blue eyes. She could hear the perplexity in her own voice. “How do you know how to fire a pistol?”

  Sophia let out a slight laugh through a sly sideways smile. “Cousin Michael taught me. You are not the only who craves adventure.”

  Grant came running up, but stopped short when he saw at Elizabeth and her cousin still sitting on the ground. “Are you alright? What happened?”

  “Mr. Ward attacked me, but my cousin shot him.” The words sounded so foreign to her ears. Her sweet, giggling cousin had actually shot a man.

  “Miss St. Ives?” Grant let out a surprised breath. “Perhaps you’d like a position with the Legion?”

  “Perhaps after my first season,” Sophia said with a teasing smile. “But I would appreciate there be no mention of this little adventure. My father would lock me in a tower for the rest of my life if her ever found out.” Sophia stood, adjusted her dress, and smoothed back her hair. “I will distract everyone up at the house. You can dispose of…” Sophia closed her eyes and turned her head away.

  “Are you all right, Sophia?” Elizabeth asked as she got to her feet.

  “Better than all right, Lizzie. I think I’ll go up to the house now.” She waved her hand in the direction of Mr. Ward’s bloody corpse. “Yes, I believe I will let you both deal with that.”

  Elizabeth suspected this would not be the end of the conversation. She watched as Sophia quickly retreated. Thankfully this little skirmish had not seemed to attract further notice.

  “I hope you weren’t serious about Sophia joining the Legion.” She didn’t believe she did a good job disguising her annoyance.

  “Would it bother you?” Grant’s eyes clung to hers, analyzing her reaction.

  Fury almost choked her. “W…why would it be acceptable for Sophia to be thrown into danger and yet you fight me constantly?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Don’t you understand?”

  “Understand what?” She demanded as she closed the distance between them.

  “Nothing.” He took several steps back. “Send word to Lord Fynes and I will handle this,” he said as he pointed to the body.

  She wanted to argue, to demand he tell her what he meant, but once again duty took precedence.

  ~~~

  After the events of today, Elizabeth was in need of more answers. Why would her father allow her to be a part of something so dangerous? Surely he was well aware of what harm could befall her.

  She walked toward her father’s study with nervous trepidation. Lord Fynes had already been and gone, having explained to Lord Atwell what had taken place in the garden earlier that day. Somehow Lord Fynes had managed to downplay the events and kept Sophia’s participation out of the conversation.

  Taking in a deep breath, Elizabeth raised her hand, and knocked softly on the elegant wood door.

  “Come in.”

  She gripped the round brass knob to keep her hand from shaking and opened the door, peering inside before entering. Her father was reclining in his favorite chair reading. Guilt pressed against her chest. She was about to ruin his evening.

  “Good evening, my dearest daughter!” His jovial voice filled the room. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the evening’s festivities, or have you decided to stay in for the night?”

  She closed the door and offered a silent prayer that this meeting would go well. “There’s something I wish to discuss with you, Father.”

  Her father’s face sagged in a multitude of worry lines. “What’s the matter?”

  She went to the dark brown damask chair beside his and sank into its cushioned softness. “Why did you allow me to join the Legion?”

  Much to her surprise, her father let out a hearty laugh. “Yes, I suppose it seemed rather unorthodox for a viscount—or any father for that matter—to allow his daughter to be involved in such a dangerous diversion.” He offered a sincere smile. “You are your grandfather’s granddaughter through and through. We both knew very early on you were destined for greater things.”

  Some of the fear and nervousness eased with her father’s declaration. “How did you know?”

  Father put his book down on the side table and leaned forward, taking her hand in his. His eyes softened as respect filled them. “You are intelligent and honest. You’ve always been headstrong and determined. I knew you’d never be satisfied with the life of a lady.” He smiled brightly and chuckled. “You once told me you wanted to make a difference, to save the world.”

  She searched her memory. “I did?”

  “Yes. That’s why I asked Lord Fynes to the manor all those years ago.”

  His confession came as a shock to her. “You…asked him to come because of me?”

  “Lord Fynes and I grew up together. I’m probably the only one outside his secret world who knows exactly who he is and what he does.” Her father released her hand and sat back in his chair. “The summer you discovered the drawing had been particularly trying for the Legion. Rumors had been swirling about spies infiltrating London. Lord Fynes had been attempting to decipher Napoleon’s code, but to no avail. Worse, the enemy was easily decoding Lord Fynes’ own encryptions. I had a knack for such puzzles and on occasion assisted him.”

  “But why then didn’t you join the Legion?”

  “There was a time I considered it, but I was destined for a different course.” Father glanced up at the large painting of Mother hanging proudly over the mantle.

  “Do you regret the life you chose?” The question popped into her head and out of her mouth before she contemplated whether she wanted to know the answer or not.

  “No.” His firm response eased her conscience. “Despite our differences, I love your mother deeply and could not im
agine a life without her.” Her father’s confession came as an utter surprise, and a tremendous relief.

  She worried her cold hands in her lap. “Does Mother know…about Lord Fynes, and you, and all that business?”

  “No.” His tone took a serious turn. He leaned in, his golden brown eyes searching hers. “What is this all about?”

  Standing abruptly, she walked over to the unlit fireplace, turned around and blurted out everything that had been bottled up inside her for months. “What if I’ve found someone who I could share this sort of life with? Who wanted to make a difference in the world? What if I want to marry? What if the man I want to marry won’t even…” She sighed heavily. “Consider me because I am the daughter of a viscount and he’s just…” Her body sagged. She was tired of the fight between honor and duty.

  Father stood and walked over to where she was standing. “Are you referring to Captain Alexander?”

  “Yes.” She fell into her father’s open arms, resting her head against his chest. The thump, thump of his beating heart offered comfort, security.

  “I would not object.”

  The surprise in her voice echoed in the large study. “You wouldn’t?”

  “No, I wouldn’t. He’s a good man.”

  “But Mother…”

  “Let me worry about her.” Despite all that had happened and what was sure to come, Elizabeth’s world suddenly felt a little lighter.

  A soft knock sounded on the door. “Excuse me,” Lewis said with slight urgency. “Lord Atwell, there is a message for Miss Atwell.”

  Chapter Ten

  Elizabeth sat on her bed surrounded by a dozen letters, coded messages, and cryptic drawings she’d received from Lord Fynes. One missive in particular had been giving her a headache all night. Over fifty characters were scattered across the page in random order and she’d not been able to piece them together.

  Stretching her back and neck, a little crack met her ears. Her body ached from sitting in one position too long. Grabbing the piece of paper, she strolled to the fireplace and stared down at the sheet.

  “What am I missing?”

  Pacing back and forth, contemplating the possibilities, the heat from the fireplace warmed her tired body. She stopped mid-pace, looking down at the paper in her hand.

  Heat.

  Holding the paper up against the heat of the fire, she watched as faint symbols darkened.

  “The letter was written in code and with invisible ink.” Her own hushed words rattled her thoughts. The pieces suddenly started to come together.

  Scurrying back to the bed, Elizabeth reorganized the sheaves, and performed the same experiment on them in front of the fire. It was as if she was seeing them for the first time. Characters became words. Words became sentences. Sentences…oh, no, that’s tonight!

  Panic and alarm collided.

  She rushed to the armoire, flung open the doors, and removed the false bottom panel. She quickly changed into her boy’s attire, then grabbed a chain and key and brought them over her head. There was no time to lose.

  Not caring for propriety, she decided she needed to relay the information to Grant. After tucking several loose strands of hair into her hat and pulling the black coat tight about her, she slunk out the servants’ entrance into the dark night. Except for the pounding of her heart, she made no sound.

  By the time Elizabeth reached the manor, her heart was beating so hard it felt like it would break through her rib cage. She had to warn Grant. She only hoped he was still in residence.

  Creeping through the mews to the back passage, recollections of Lord Fynes showing her the alleyway slowly came into focus. It had been years since she’d been this way.

  When Elizabeth first started to assist Lord Fynes, he’d told her this would be her safe house if anything should ever take a turn for the worse. Thankfully, she’d never needed it, until tonight.

  A large shrub blocked any evidence of the secret passage. She squeezed between the wall and the branches, and within a couple of minutes she found a latch.

  Pulling the door open just wide enough, Elizabeth wedged her way through, and then closed it behind her. She gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the dark space before running her right hand along the cool wall as she proceeded down the unlit corridor. Past the first turn she switched hands, letting her left hand guide her the rest of the way down. Minutes later, she reached her destination and pulled the chain from around her neck.

  The whole ordeal felt like it had taken a dozen minutes to complete, but soon she was rewarded with the soft click of the door unlocking. Once inside, she relocked the door and continued up the two steps to the sliding panel.

  Slowly easing the door to one side, Elizabeth stepped into the library, and was instantly greeted with the sight of Grant reclining in a chair by the fire. She cleared her throat before speaking, hoping he wouldn’t be too startled by her presence. “Captain Alexander.”

  He jumped to his feet, tossing a small stack of letters onto the chair, and whipped around to face her. Confusion laced every inch of him. He looked beyond her to the sliding panel before settling his gaze back on her.

  “Does everyone in London know how to get into this house?”

  “Lord Fynes showed me years before you moved here.”

  “What are you doing here, and at this hour? Surely whatever it is could’ve waited till morning.”

  “No, it couldn’t.” She pulled the decoded missives from inside her coat and handed them to Grant.

  He read through them quickly. “The meeting is tonight.” His brows creased together, deep in thought, as he paced back and forth, the warm glow from the fire caressing his face. Elizabeth fought to keep her focus on the matter at hand. “Simon and I will handle this.” He paused for a moment, then looked directly at her. “And you will stay here.”

  Although his tone brooked no argument, she was not going to just sit and wait.

  “No.”

  “Elizabeth, we don’t have time to argue.”

  “Well then, don’t.” She closed the slight distance between them. “Let me into your world. Let me help.”

  A long sigh escaped his lips as he wrestled with her words. She stood silent, waiting.

  “Simon and I will go to the docks. You will finish decoding the letters I received from Lord Fynes. We should return within the hour.”

  She acquiesced, knowing it was all he could offer at the moment, but this discussion was far from over. “They will be done before you return.” She looked into his eyes, the struggle in them as clear as their blueness. “Thank you.”

  “You’re most welcome,” was all he said before leaving the room with haste.

  Taking off her coat, she draped it over the back of the chair he had been sitting in and ran her hand down the back and across the arm. Her mind wandered to images of him.

  Closing her eyes, she imagined how it would feel to kiss him, to run her hands across his muscular chest, down his taut stomach. Oh, dear. She needed to sit down.

  Elizabeth picked up the papers he had been reading when she’d first arrived and sank into the warm leather chair. The scents of fresh soap and leather lingered around it, encircling her in his essence. Breathing in the intoxicating smell, her thoughts began to spin out of control.

  Attempting to compose herself, she turned her attention to the papers in hand.

  Roman numerals jumped off the page. She remembered seeing a similar configuration on the papers she’d decoded earlier. She started thumbing through the pages. She was going to decode all of these before Grant returned, and then hopefully he would see her as an asset to this mission.

  ~~~

  The old and ill-equipped carriage hobbled down the well-worn street. Not for the first time that evening, Grant questioned his sanity in allowing Elizabeth to stay at the manor. Between sneaking into his residence, dressing as a boy, and insisting she aid him in this mission, she seemed to have little care for the ton’s rules for propriety—which actually made he
r more endearing.

  He knew she was capable, that was not the issue. But he constantly worried she would find herself in a dire situation, and then what? He shook his head. Elizabeth was headstrong and resourceful. She could probably talk her way out of any situation. He adored how her forehead crinkled when she was deep in thought and loved how riled she became when passionate about something she believed in.

  He bolted upright, shock running through his body.

  Loved? Bloody hell, how had he allowed this to happen? If he were honest with himself, it had never been just about physical attraction. He was drawn to her intelligence. He found he wanted to hear her thoughts and opinions, to know every detail of her life. That she was beautiful only intensified his feelings.

  Damn. His enemies would stop at nothing to harm those he cared about. It was the nature of the business. He leaned his head back against the cushion.

  They would soon arrive at their destination and he had to refocus on the impromptu mission. He would contemplate this revelation later.

  Disguised as a hackney driver, Simon was on the box keeping an eye out for Typhon’s men. The details Elizabeth had recovered contained vital information about a meeting of Typhon’s men this evening. All signs pointed to the warehouse next to the Goose and Gander tavern. By the foul smell of rotten fish, Grant knew their destination was near.

  While he was still going over their strategy in his head, the carriage came to an abrupt halt. The roof rattled several times as Simon pounded, signaling there was trouble. The piercing sound of a gunshot, followed by loud shouts, echoed through the stale night air.

  Grant kicked the worn carriage door, sending it flying off its hinges, crashing onto the street. He jumped out just in time to see Simon running after someone, disappearing into the evening mist.

  “There’s another man…” Simon’s words trailed as he took off at full speed.

  Grant pulled out his knife and looked around, listening for the assailant. Sounds from the tavern wafted down the narrow street. He took a step forward when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man charging toward him with a large dagger in hand. Fifteen paces behind him was another assailant brandishing a knife.