Excerpt from An Unlikely Spy by Rebecca Starford, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"Very good. Right. Well." With a rattle of his empty glass, Stephen stood up. "I think I fancy another."

Evelyn watched him as he made his way to the bar. He dragged his left foot. It had been crushed by a pontoon at Dunkirk; he had been lucky not to drown. He was shy about his disfigurement but never ashamed. It was perhaps the first thing that drew Evelyn to him: the ease with which he spoke about the past. That, and how he never asked for much in return, even when she knew he must want her to share more of herself with him.

"You don't need to answer right away," Stephen said quietly. "I've caught you unawares." He looked into his lap. "But will you think about it?"

"Yes, of course." Glancing at his thinning hair, the fine freckles across his broad nose, Evelyn felt a throb deep in her chest. "Of course I'll think about it." She reached out, grazing her fingertips over his knuckles. "I'm so pleased you asked me, Stephen, really I am."

"Mm." Color had risen in his cheeks and he wouldn't look at her.

Evelyn clasped her hands together. She had hurt him. Sometimes she forgot she could still inflict pain on others.

"Very good. Right. Well." With a rattle of his empty glass, Stephen stood up. "I think I fancy another."

Evelyn watched him as he made his way to the bar. He dragged his left foot. It had been crushed by a pontoon at Dunkirk; he had been lucky not to drown. He was shy about his disfigurement but never ashamed. It was perhaps the first thing that drew Evelyn to him: the ease with which he spoke about the past. That, and how he never asked for much in return, even when she knew he must want her to share more of herself with him.

She rubbed at her eyes. The truth was she wanted to go to Rome. But there were so many complications—her papers, for one. How could she explain it all to him?

While Stephen lingered at the bar, she turned her attention to the window and the gardens outside. It was busier now, men and women streaming from the terraces surrounding the square, batting their way through the gaggle of children mobbing the Wall's ice-cream man on the corner. Evelyn's gaze rested on a small girl and a dark-haired woman. The girl, in a smart woolen dress, was chattering away, while the woman—her mother, Evelyn presumed—flicked through a picture-card stand by one of the stalls set up along the garden fence. Evelyn watched the graceful swoop of her gloved hand until, almost as if she sensed she was being watched, the woman turned. Her eyes met Evelyn's and what followed was a moment of perfect calm, just as the air had felt before a shell dropped.

"You do like brandy, don't you? I can never remember."

Setting a drink in front of her, Stephen followed Evelyn's gaze, one hand pressed into his back. "I've never understood how children can eat ice cream in the cold."

A bus rumbled past, a few cars.

"I say, are you all right, Evelyn? You're awfully pale."

Evelyn sat up straighter as Stephen, face pinched-looking, crouched in front of her.

"Look, you needn't worry about the Rome trip, honestly. It was just a mad idea."

She scanned the square for the woman and the little girl, but they were both gone.

"I mean, I could ask Timmy Walker to come. You remember Tim? Foreign Office. He's always had a bit of a thing for the Romans ..."

Evelyn listened to Stephen's prattle, not wanting it to stop. As long as he kept talking, she could convince herself that she had imagined it. That she hadn't seen Julia Wharton-Wells at all. But then, after a burst of laughter from the lobby and the tail end of the pianist's song, came the cry: "Evelyn?"

Her voice still had that breathiness, as though she had just sprinted across the street.

Turning, Evelyn saw the little girl first, and up close she recognized the straight, almost black hair and the same watchful amber eyes. Julia stepped forward, arms outstretched, and before Evelyn knew what she was doing she was on her feet, Julia's smooth coat, cigarette smoke, and perfume caught up in their embrace.

Excerpted from An Unlikely Spy by Rebecca Starford. Copyright © 2021 by Rebecca Starford. Excerpted by permission of Ecco. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.