“Nicholas,” said Bennett, sighing as he closed the door. Once again, Nick found himself with his handler inside his study. Bennett looked less excited and a bit more exasperated as he went and sat on the sofa in the middle of the room. He gestured for Nicholas to do the same. “Come on, Nicholas… James. You know that you are going to have to wed one of these highborn ladies. We agreed that it is the fastest way to get you inside their circle.”

“And perhaps I should have objected, Mr. Bennett. I could continue our operation without the help of a highborn wife by being nameless and discrete. I could even work as a butler and gained information from --”

“Nonsense, James,” Bennett waved a hand to dismiss him. “And do sit down.” With a defeated sigh, Nick did, choosing the empty chair across Bennett. He refilled his glass and took a long drink. “We both know why you are acting this way,” continued the older gentleman. The shadows of the night made the creases on his face look deeper and him a lot more unforgiving than he really was. “I do apologize for not giving you a choice on the matter, but as I have said before, you cannot afford to be picky. We need this fast – Her Majesty needs this.”

Nick looked away, studied the swirling brown liquid in his glass. “I was never given a choice from the start,” he mused to himself.

“We are at war, James.”

“I understand. I’m not dimwitted.”

Bennett leaned forward, resting his elbows to his knees. “Then tell me, why do you object?”

Nick shrugged. “I don’t like her. She doesn’t like me,” he said plain as day. He turned his attention back to his handler. “This is disastrous, I’m telling you. I feel like she is not your ordinary woman. She is… She did turn me down tonight.”

“So there’s our problem – your pride, Mr. Rochford.”

“She did stomp on it,” he confessed. And she was also a spoiled rich man’s child, who was used to getting her way done all the time. Nicholas or James Flannagan was none like her, because unlike her he was forced into the service because he could not afford any other choices.
 
“I have spoken at length with her father and he consents the union,” said Bennett. He eased up and leaned back on the sofa, but the intensity of his eyes bore down on Nick. “Besides, it’s not like you are marrying her for good. This is probably harder for her, because unlike you she believes that this marriage will be real, but you on the other hand know that it is not.”

Of course. There was no such person as Nicholas Rochford, he was just a made-up character who played charade with the important people of London as a means to an end. Once the spies had been cleared up and the war was won, Nicholas would just disappear. His handler confirmed it by saying, “Once this is over, we are going to stage your death.”

Nick smiled for real. “Make it a good, dramatic one, Mr. Bennett.”

******

The letter from Ms. Abbott found him the following day in the stables tending to his horse. A servant came up behind him carrying the missive which said, [i]”I need to speak with you – as soon as possible and privately. CA”[/i] 

Well, it appeared that she heard of the news as well. “And I am going to see her today,” smiling, he told that to his horse. Bennett was right. He didn’t have to take this seriously. He was a spy for the crown and the identity he had was fake. He could marry Claire Abbott for a while.

Nick went straight to his private study and penned a reply. “Please allow me to express my utmost surprise, Ms. Abbott, upon receiving the message. I had reasons to believe that you dislike my company and yet you need to see me soon and in private. Must it be in private? An unmarried lady should not be ‘in private’ with a man – married or unmarried – as it is seen as inappropriate by our ruthless, judgmental society. Nevertheless, since I believe you have heard of our shared fates, I consent to speak with you in private. Meet me at Hyde Park. I will be loitering around the Grand Entrance at around three to four in the afternoon. Can you ride a horse, Ms. Abbott? – Nicholas R.”

He read the whole thing, folded the paper and went downstairs to hand it over to Ms. Abbott’s messenger. 

*******
Not to say that he was excited to meet her, but a few minutes before three in the afternoon he was already at Hyde Park wearing a gray vest over white undershirt, riding his horse Nightshade. He wore a black coat over his vest, which matches his trousers, but he wasn’t wearing a hat. He exercised Nightshade as he waited for the lady.