The Oslo Affair (Shadows of War, #2) by CW Browning (read after .txt) 📗

flagged stones on the other side. Only two rooms faced the south lawn and opened onto the terrace on this side of the drawing room. One was the billiard room, and the other was her father’s study.

The click of the window casing caused Evelyn to reach down for a large rock near her feet. Her intention was to throw the rock into the garden behind the terrace and make the intruder think someone was there. When he turned back towards the railing, she could intercept him.

Before her fingers touched the rock, a chorus of barking erupted from the right and her father’s three hunting dogs came bounding from the direction of the woods. Evelyn stared at them, then stood up quickly. It was too late. She saw only the back of a tall man dressed in a long black coat as he disappeared into the trees on the left side of the terrace.

The dogs caught sight of her and lost interest in the man whom they had first sighted. Tom, Dick and Harry swarmed around Evelyn, barking joyfully in greeting. Dick held something clamped between his teeth and she bent to pull it away from him. Evelyn straightened up slowly and glanced towards the trees. It was a brown leather strip and, unless she was very much mistaken, it was part of a bridle.

Chapter Two

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“Well, I’m glad that’s over, at any rate,” Mrs. Ainsworth said, standing. “I’m going to check on luncheon. I’m sure everyone is getting hungry.”

The family solicitor had just left after going over the will. There had been no surprises and Evelyn looked at Rob, who had got up and was standing near the window of the study, staring out.

“I can take care of that for you, if you’d rather go and rest,” she said, standing. While she was loathe to leave her brother when he was clearly feeling overwhelmed, her mother looked exhausted.

Mrs. Ainsworth smiled tiredly and reached out to take her hand.

“Thank you, dear, but it helps me to keep busy.”

She turned and left the study, allowing Evelyn to turn her attention back to her brother.

“Are you all right?” she asked, walking over to join him at the window. Her gaze lingered for a moment on the window casing. There was no sign of it having been forced earlier. Someone must have found the window ajar and closed it before they gathered for the reading of the will.

Rob turned his head and glanced down at her.

“Never better.”

She raised an eyebrow dubiously. “You can’t lie to me, Robbie. You never could.”

He let out a short laugh and turned away from the window, one hand in his pocket.

“Not for lack of trying.” He pulled out a cigarette case and opened it, offering her one. She shook her head. “I suppose I’ve just realized that he’s really gone. Nothing drives it home quite like being presented with my entire estate and birthright in a twenty-minute conversation with the family solicitor.”

“Would you rather it had been drawn out into an hour?” she asked with a quick grin.

He made a face at her and pulled a lighter out of his pocket.

“Heaven forbid! Twenty minutes was quite long enough.” He turned to go to the heavy wooden desk where their father spent so many hours. “I have to go down to London tomorrow to meet with him and go over all the papers, then I have to meet with the manager at the bank. And I have to try to get Damien Stevenson up here to go over the steward accounts before I go back to Duxford. How in blazes am I going to get everything sorted? Don’t they know there’s a war on?”

He dropped into their father’s chair behind the desk and stared glumly at the polished surface. Evelyn watched him for a second, then went over to perch on the arm of the chair, putting an arm around his shoulders.

“Damien is here now for the luncheon. Ask him to remain afterwards and fill you in on anything pressing. You’re already familiar with most of it. You were starting to take it over anyway. As for the solicitor and the bank, go to London tomorrow and do what you can. I’m sure anything that isn’t able to be done tomorrow can be done through the post. It will have to be. As you say, there’s a war on.” She leaned down and rested her cheek next to his. “Don’t worry. We’ll get through this. I don’t know how, but we will.”

Rob put his arm around her waist and squeezed, tapping ash off his cigarette into the heavy glass ashtray on the desk.

“Knowing you, you’ll just throw yourself into work,” he said. “What is work, anyway?”

Evelyn slid off the arm of the chair and went over to the side board where their father always kept decanters of brandy, scotch and sherry.

“You know I can’t tell you anything,” she said, picking up the brandy decanter. She held it up questioningly and Rob shook his head.

“I’ll take some of the scotch, though.” She nodded and poured herself a glass of brandy before reaching for the scotch. “I can’t image what they have you doing up there. What’s in Scotland except a bunch of haggis? Is that it? Are you on a secret haggis mission?”

Evelyn bit back a laugh and turned to carry the scotch over to him.

“If I am, I’m not telling you.”

He took the drink and studied her for a moment.

“Why did you join the WAAFs, Evie?” he asked, sobering. “In all seriousness? You didn’t have to. You could have gone to University. With your language skills, you would have done well. Why the WAAFs?”

Evelyn sipped her brandy and sank into the chair across from the desk, fighting the sudden wave of guilt that washed over her. Rob had no idea what she really did, nor could he ever know. It was too dangerous. No one in her family had any clue that she wasn’t really a WAAF. Once