Love and Let Spy (Lord and Lady Spy) by Shana Galen

looked pointedly at Lady Smythe and then at Lord Smythe. It might not be proper for Lord Smythe to be alone with her, but she could hardly discuss classified Barbican cases in front of a civilian. Not to mention, the deeds of a monster like Foncé might cause the poor woman to give birth prematurely. Her belly was huge on her small frame, and Jane rather thought the lady looked ready to fall forward from the enormous size and weight of the babe she was carrying. The child looked as though it would be more horse than human.
    Of course, Jane had no experience with women in Lady Smythe’s condition, so perhaps all of them looked as though they were carrying a foal at this stage.
    Lord Smythe correctly interpreted her glance at his wife and sat beside the woman, taking her hand. Jane was a bit uncomfortable at such displays of affection, especially considering holding the woman’s hand was probably the beginning of what had caused the condition the woman was in now, but the woman was not hers to contend with. Surely Lord Smythe knew how to dismiss his own wife. Considering her difficulty in ridding herself of Mr. Griffyn earlier, she should probably take notes.
    “Miss Bonde,” Lord Smythe began, “you said Lord Melbourne sent you.”
    Actually, she hadn’t said that, but she had let it be assumed. “I am his niece,” she repeated.
    “And did he mention who I was?”
    Jane’s gaze slid to Lady Smythe again. Really, the poor woman should probably go lie down. It could not be comfortable to sit in her position. Or stand. Or…exist.
    “You can speak in front of Lady Smythe,” he said. “If you know I am Agent Wolf, then you might as well know she is Agent Saint.”
    If he had pulled out a pistol and shot her, Jane would have been less surprised. She actually fell back against the seat of her chair, all the air whooshing out of her lungs. She shook her head. “I don’t understand.” She knew it was rude, but she could not stop staring at Lady Smythe’s—Agent Saint’s, the Agent Saint’s?—belly. How could this hugely pregnant woman be an agent for the Barbican group?
    “I see you are somewhat surprised,” Lady Smythe—Jane could not think of her as Agent Saint in her condition—said. “Believe me when I tell you Lord Smythe and I were equally surprised. We had been married five years when we discovered, quite by accident, that we were both agents for the Barbican group.”
    “And M knew?” Like many agents in the group, she often called her uncle M to protect his identity and save her the time and trouble of using his courtesy title.
    “Of course. He managed to keep the secret from everyone.”
    That did not surprise her. What was truly extraordinary was that these two were such good spies that they kept their roles from each other. It underscored what she already knew: Wolf and Saint were the best—save herself, of course. She had studied their previous cases and the techniques they’d used to fulfill their missions. She had read and reread Saint’s amazing feats, never once considering Saint was a woman.
    Until very recently, women were not allowed in the Barbican group—or so her uncle had told her. That was one reason her identity was kept so secret. At least, that was what she had believed. But how could a woman so hugely pregnant be an operative? Did they have other children? How had she fought with that huge belly? She certainly couldn’t run.
    “We are retired,” Agent Wolf told her.
    “I had heard that,” Jane said, snapping her gaze back to him. “But I also know no one can rest easy with Foncé free.”
    “That is true,” Saint said. “It’s only a matter of time until he uncovers our hidden identities and comes after us. He abducted Baron’s wife, and he sent his assassin after Blue. Foncé has more reason to hate us. We’ve almost had him twice.”
    Jane nodded. In other words, these two had come face-to-face with Foncé and lived. Not many could say that, especially agents