The Duke of Olympia Meets His Match by Juliana Gray

country of my birth.” She leaned forward, and that serene face went suddenly sharp. “But I must have your
word
, Penelope, your solemn word that you’ll deliver this to our man as we discussed, and
only
to our man, whatever happens. No one else is on our side.”
    â€œBut why not?” Penelope had asked. “Why not, if the contents are innocent?”
    â€œBecause everyone acts according to his own interest, Penelope. Don’t you know that? Men and countries alike. You can never tell what a man’s true motives are. Deliver this parcel to the appointed fellow on the appointed day, as I’ve directed, and you won’t have to worry about whether or not someone’s on your side or his own.”
    Penelope had smiled and held up the portfolio with her two hands. “And how do I know what side
you’re
on? How do I know I can trust
you
, dearest Margot?”
    Madame de Sauveterre had thrown back her well-preserved head and laughed. “Oh, darling! What an excellent question. I knew you were perfect for the job.”
    Penelope had laughed, too. It had all seemed so simple at the time, so theoretical. Trust no one else. Deliver the portfolio to its designated recipient at all costs. What could possibly hinder her from completing such a simple mission?
    But this wasn’t a comfortable drawing room on Fifth Avenue. The pitch of the ship, the whistling wind, the state of her cabin that might or might not have indicated an intruder: it was all so doubtful and precarious, so laden with a sense of danger she couldn’t quite name. Robert’s face yearned toward her, smooth and guileless and eager. He had that well-scrubbed beauty of youth, the bland handsomeness of a nicely bred college boy: the kind who played football in the fall and baseball in the spring, and went sailing with his father in the summer. You shook his hand and thought,
What a good-looking fellow
, but five minutes after meeting him you had forgotten exactly what he looked like. You certainly wouldn’t suspect him of any connection with the portfolio now resting in the ship’s safe.
    But wasn’t that the point?
    She gazed up at him and ironed her expression free of any intelligence. “Do you really think so?”
    â€œYes! Do let me take charge of those papers, Mrs. Schuyler. And any other valuables you might be carrying,” he added quickly. “I will guard them with my life, I promise.”
    The ship pitched beneath her feet, and a concurrent gust of wind caught her in the small of her back. She staggered forward, catching his arm for balance, and the strength of his bicep surprised her. A faint waft of shaving soap found her nose, touched with the familiar smell of hair pomade. He used the same brand as her husband had.
    â€œThank you,” she gasped, righting herself.
    â€œPlease,” he said in her ear. “
Please
give me those papers.”
    Penelope put up one mittened hand to secure her hat. With the other, she reached out and patted the side of his shoulder. “Mr. Langley, I think your enthusiasm has gotten the better of you. It’s only a few passports and letters of credit. Nothing at all to interest an anarchist. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must return to my part of the ship before I’m missed.”
    â€œBut Mrs. Schuyler—”
    â€œGood day, Mr. Langley. And do take care with your footing. I’ve heard the weather is only going to get worse.”
    He said something back, but Penelope was already hurrying away, and the words escaped into the draft.
    ***
    The Duke of Olympia braced himself against the corner of the deckhouse and turned up the collar of his overcoat, but the wind still found the cracks at the edges of his clothing and went inside to shave his skin. He reached into his breast pocket and consulted his watch against the electric light. Five minutes past midnight, and in another minute he would give up. The weather had