London England           Duff Cooper dialed out on his private phone line, rather than have one of his aides place the call.           “Méliès résidence.”           “Lady Méliès, s’il vous plait.”           “Qui appelle?”           “Duff Cooper.”           The maid entered the parlour where Victoria was reading Le Matin, the daily newspaper. “Monsieur Duff Cooper.”           Victoria hid her surprise.           “He’s here?”           “Téléphone.”           “Merci.”           Victoria thought back to the day they met. *           It was springtime, and everything was coming back to life after a long hibernation. It was Victoria’s first year of finishing school in Paris and she was sick-to-death of elocution lessons, etiquette coaching and classes in protocol and decorum.           When first asked if she wanted to complete her education at l’École de Madame Chalgrin in Paris, she had agreed wholeheartedly, imagining an exciting escape from a routine life in England. But she soon learned the school for young women had very strict rules. Young ladies were never allowed to leave the premises unescorted. Every young woman was required to perform light housekeeping duties. And the haughty instructors with their perfect manners and condescending attitudes did not tolerate slipshod work, sloppy attire or individuality.           After seven months in Paris, Victoria had grown fluent in the language and knowledgeable enough about the city to want to venture out on her own. So one morning, defying regulations, Victoria left a note saying she was visiting a sick aunt and embarked upon a day of adventure.           She looked older than her sixteen years, with her tall slender figure and her fashionable outfit. And while most of her honey blond curls were pinned up beneath her hat, long tendrils of hair came loose as she walked, framing her pretty face.           Turning off the Avenue des Champs Elysees she stopped in front of the Grand Palais to study the building. She thought the bronze statues on the roof were in need of polishing. They had developed a coat of verdigris that Victoria didn't like.           She continued walking until she reached a café. She stopped to have a cup of tea, which she preferred over the cups of strong coffee that were de rigueur at her school. The café was crowded and Victoria was forced to sit at a small table in a cramped corner that received little sunlight.           After a long delay, the waiter brought her some freshly brewed tea, but it splashed onto the table when a man sitting nearby pushed his chair back, bumping into the waiter.           Victoria jumped out of her seat so the tea wouldn’t stain her clothing.           The man responsible for the upset turned around and offered her an apology.           “Pardonez-moi. I’m not usually so clumsy.”           He was dashing, charming and British and at least ten years older than Victoria. That made him very attractive.           She smiled. “No harm done.”           “I’m so sorry, Mademoiselle. Forgive me. Please, move to my table and allow me to pay for your meal.” He removed his hat. “Duff Cooper, at your service.”           Victoria offered him her gloved hand. “Enchanté,” he said as he moved her hand to his lips. Victoria blushed, and then smiled. She was under Duff Cooper’s spell.           She allowed him to order her a fresh cup of tea, as well as a croissant (Madame Chalgrin frowned upon young ladies who took more than one at breakfast).           As they ate, Cooper enthralled her with tales of his exploits during the Great War. She, in turn, talked about her childhood in Harrogate. She never once mentioned being a student at Madame Chagrin’s School. Instead, she said she had come to Paris to learn about French fashion.           “We’re two British subjects, far away from our homes and families," he teased. "We owe it to the Crown to stick together while on foreign soil. Allow me to show you the splendors of Paris.           Together, they toured museums and gardens, stopping for cassoulet and burgundy for lunch. They visited a small Parisian shop where he bought Victoria a lace handkerchief with her initial on it, “To wipe away the tea spilled by clumsy men.” Then he took her to the top of the Eiffel Tower so they could view all of Paris. They topped off their day with caviar and champagne for dinner.           Victoria spoke enthusiastically about the sights from the tower and Duff told her about the view from his apartment. He invited her to see it and she naively accepted. *           Victoria was mesmerized by the view from Duff’s balcony. It overlooked the streets of Paris and she could see the lights along the river Seine, sparkling like gems caught in a haze of tulle. As she gazed out, Duff wrapped his arms around her. “The view is magnificent, but not nearly as breathtaking as you.”           She allowed herself to lean back into his embrace and as he bent his head forward to kiss her neck, her nerves tingled. She turned to speak, but before a word could escape, Duff’s lips were on hers, his tongue pushing into her mouth. This was a new experience for Victoria and she liked the way it made her feel.           Duff tried to remove her dress, but she clutched it against her body. Undeterred, he complimented her while tracing her face with his finger from her forehead to the tip of her nose, over her lips and under her chin, not stopping until he reached her breasts. Victoria gently pushed Duff away, but he was persistent and she finally gave in. She allowed him to remove her clothing and blushed violently as she stood naked before him.           Slowly, he caressed every inch of her, kissing her and extolling her beauty. That evening, Duff Cooper stole Victoria’s innocence. As she fell asleep in his arms she smiled contentedly. She was in love.           She awakened in the middle of the night, to find him gazing at her. “Can’t you sleep?”           “I’d rather just look at you.”           “In the dark?”           “In the moonlight. There’s something about it that’s very soothing.”           “What were you thinking about?” she asked.           “Oh, I don’t know. My life. The war. Everything.”           “Was it exciting, fighting in the Great War?”           “There was no glory in it,” he answered. “If you were in the right place at the right time, you did okay. But damned was the man who was in the wrong place.”           “Did you know anyone who was… in the wrong place?”           “Many of my friends. I don’t think it would have turned out so badly, if we just had a more reliable way of getting information across enemy lines. But nothing seemed to work.”           “Couldn’t you just post letters?”           Duff smiled. “Mail is too dangerous. The contents are easily read. We tried having pigeons deliver small hydrogen balloon canisters to our agents behind the lines and asked our people to send them back with reports of enemy troop movement. We sent a hundred of them, but only one message ever came back that I know of, and that one nearly ended up in the Germans’ hands. Thank God one of our people intercepted it during a raid. The little ignoramus who sent it had signed her real name on it. She could have gotten herself killed.”           Victoria sat upright. “She? There were women working behind enemy lines?”           Duff hesitated. “I’m talking too much.”           “I want to know more about these women. Are they spies?”           “I’m sorry, Victoria. I shouldn’t talk about covert operations. I can’t tell you anything more.”           “But it sounds so exciting. How do they get the information they send you?”           “Much the same way you’re getting information from me, right now,” he answered wryly. “Let’s get some sleep.” To silence her, he slipped his tongue back into her mouth.           Later, she stood alone on the balcony as Duff slept, thinking about how exciting it would be to steal behind enemy lines and gather the kind of information that could help win a war. She would ask him to tell her more about it, in the morning. *           When she awakened, Duff was sitting fully dressed in a chair opposite the bed, watching her. She modestly pulled a blanket up to her chin. “Good morning, Mister Duff Cooper.” She paused for a second. “You have such a interesting name.”           He smiled. “Actually, my given name is Alfred.”           She noticed him fidgeting and tried to be glib. “You look like you’re getting ready to fly the coop, Alfred. You could have, at least, waited for me to get dressed. Ladies first and all that.”           “Victoria, it’s not that I want to leave you right now, but… I’m getting married!”           Victoria froze. “What do you mean, you’re getting married?”           “I’m catching the ferry, today. I’m due back in London for some last minute wedding preparations. If I had realized you were a virgin, I would never have brought you here.”           Victoria scarcely moved. Tears stung her eyes but she refused to let him see how hurt she was. Instead, she willed herself to sound calm and remain in control. “Well then, I guess you really are trying to fly the coop. Go. I won’t be here when you get back.”           “I won’t be coming back any time soon. Do you need anything? Do you need money?”           Victoria’s eyes flashed. “Money? Do you take me for some kind of whore? Get out!”           He stood up and took a calling card out of his pocket, placing it on the edge of the bed. “If you ever need anything, contact me.”           She held up her hand to stop him from saying anything more. “Please leave.”           “I’m so sorry.” With that, he walked out.           Victoria got up and dressed hurriedly, but her nervous fumbling slowed her down. She had snuck out of school overnight and for one shining moment, she believed she was in love. Now, she felt like a foolish child. Worse, she had to figure out how to get back inside the school, without too much fuss. "Oh," she moaned aloud. Madame Chalgrin was sure to make her feel even worse than she already felt. *           Victoria walked into the parlor to find Duff Cooper and Piccolo had become fast friends. Cooper was rubbing the tiny dog’s belly and Piccolo seemed content lying beside Cooper’s chair.           The last thing Victoria expected was to hear that the Nazis had taken her brother prisoner.           “How can that be? I realize there’s a lot of tension between our countries, but we’re not at war. How can they take him prisoner?”           Cooper was careful in his answer. “He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was a theft involving some very critical German documents. Even though the Germans know Commander Tyning doesn’t have their documents, they’re detaining him.           “Victoria, if you’re contacted in any way; if you feel you’re being followed; if you have any reason to suspect something’s not quite right – call me immediately. I will do everything in my power to assist you.” *           Two days later, Victoria received a thick ivory envelope in the mail. It contained an invitation to a house party at Cliveden, just outside of London. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been to a British house party, but her brother still lived at their London house in Cadogan Gardens and often attended them.           She believed she might learn something there.           She reluctantly entrusted Piccolo to her maid’s care and prepared to travel to England. *** Code Name: Evangeline is available in its entirety on Kindle Don't own a Kindle? Download a free app to read Kindle books on your iPhone and iPod Touch. Or get the free app to read Kindle books on your PC.