The Spy’s Salvation is the third book in The Carmichael Saga. Third sons of a duke in 19th-century England rarely have a significant role in the family. The eldest son is the heir, the second son is the spare, but the third son is left to find his own way. Elliott Arthur Carmichael, the third son of the Duke of Calhoun, does just that. Struggling with demons from his past, Elliott strikes out to prove to his family and to himself that he is more than simply the youngest brother. After finishing university he travels extensively, writing successful guides and presenting travelogues that capture the attention of the Her Majesty’s secret service. Though enlisted to serve queen and country, the nature of his service makes it impossible for him to explain to those around him that he is more than a “ne’re-do-well” who runs off on another adventure rather than spending time with his family. Elliott’s work leads him eventually to Vienna where he happens upon Lady Rachel Armstrong, a beautiful young artist, as she is painting the towers of St. Stephen. Little does he realize that this chance meeting will change dramatically both his life and that of Lady Rachel. Together they find forgiveness, salvation, and love.

“Elliott had seen the artist from across St. Stephen’s Square as he walked toward his favorite cafe. He noticed how intensely she worked the paints on her palette as she looked at the cathedral and then back at her painting. He was unable to tell much about the artist except that she (yes, he noticed her sex), was focused entirely on her work. He observed her as she would gently stroke the color onto the canvas. “As Elliott came closer to the young woman, he could see that her hair encircled her head with curls. Although it appeared that she had tamed her locks by pulling them back at the nape of her neck, numerous dark chestnut curls had escaped. “He was just a step behind her as he watched her left hand slowly come up and slowly rub her pale cheek. Then, suddenly, he saw her slam her brush down, paint flying. She then stood abruptly, her folding chair collapsing, the palette tossed to the ground as she herself began to fall. “Elliott quickly steadied her with his left hand on her arm and his right in the small of her back. As she regained her composure, she slowly turned to look at him. “Seeing her face for the first time, Elliott found the artist stunning. Her face had a warm glow from the sun, enhanced by dark eyebrows that were raised in surprise by his touch. Her eyes were brown but not as dark as his mother’s or his brother’s, and her mouth formed an ‘O’ from her near fall and rescue. “Once Elliott was sure she was steady, he took a step back from her. He watched as she surveyed him with an artist’s eye. “‘Forgive my forwardness, but I did not wish to see you fall,’ Elliott said. “She slightly shook her head as if to clear her thoughts, then spoke. Her voice was deeper than he had anticipated. It was low and throaty. ‘Thank you. I should not have been overcome with emotions, Mr…?’ “‘Lord, actually. Lord Elliott Arthur Carmichael, at your service,&squo; Elliott replied with a bow. When he rose he noticed that the paint had splattered not only her apron and her hand, but also there was a dab of grey pigment on her right cheek. Without thinking, he gently removed the smudge with his right thumb while he gazed into her bright eyes. “Realizing the impropriety of his action, Elliott snatched his hand away as though singed. He reached inside his coat, brought out a handkerchief, and handed it to the artist. ‘I must ask your forgiveness again, m’lady. I am usually never this forward.’ “The young woman took the offered cloth. She spoke as she began to clean her face and hands. ‘No forgiveness necessary for either, I assure you, Lord Elliott. I would instead beg your pardon over my outburst.’ “Elliott’s heart warmed. How long had it been since he had spoken with a lovely young woman not connected with his work? He smiled at his new acquaintance. ‘May I be of assistance?’ “‘If you wish,’ she replied as she began to pick up her palette and brushes. “Elliott picked up the folding stool as the artist covered her artwork of the cathedral. “‘I was headed to a little cafe at the far end of the square. Could I interest you in some hot cocoa?’ he asked. “‘Do they have coffee?’ she asked. “Elliott smiled. Rarely did he find a young lady who preferred coffee to cocoa. ‘Actually, that is why it is my favorite cafe. They make a wonderful cup of coffee, stronger that most cafes.’ “‘Excellent. By all means, sir, lead the way.’”