“Yes!” He nearly shouted it, though he caught himself in time. Any patient who dared to raise his voice in anything but a scream of pain would be chastised immediately by Nurse Wilcox, the same ward matron who had so infuriated Margot De Wilde the other day. He couldn’t help smiling over the memory of her stomping in, her hair an absolute wreck and fury dripping from every beautiful line of her face.

Hopefully DID would chalk the smile up to something other than thoughts of Margot De Wilde. Though as distractions went, she’d proven an interesting one. She hadn’t rejoined Dot on her daily visits, but his sister had endless stories to tell from their six-week-long acquaintance.

“I do realize that five days in hospital is hardly enough to have recovered after such a scrape, and I’ll not have you pushing yourself beyond your capabilities and slowing your recuperation. However”—Hall lifted his chin and looked down at Drake like a schoolmaster would look at a particularly bright pupil who was acting particularly stupid—“if you promise to abide by the dictates of your doctor, I’ve made arrangements.”

Drake nodded, afraid to part his lips lest that forbidden shout of joy emerge.

The admiral nodded too. “Very well, then. Tomorrow you’ll be moved to your sister’s flat. I’ve arranged for your doctor to pay you a visit every day, and we can hire a nurse as well, if needed. If their reports are good, then I’ll begin sending a bit of work home for you with your sister.”

“With my . . .” Drake pursed his lips. “But, sir—”

“You’ll have to tell her, Lieutenant.” Hall’s tone left no room for debate. “Thus far she is willing to believe that I am the bearer of information simply because she is under my command, but that will not hold up if we move forward with this plan.”

“Yes, sir.” Training had him agreeing. But training didn’t answer the questions. How was he supposed to inform his sister that he was an intelligence agent—not just a sailor—without sparking the fear that lived deep inside her? How was he to admit that when she thought he’d been on the battleship Royal Oak, seeing little action, he’d really been with Abuelo in Spain, balancing the image of a spoiled university student with the reality of dodging German bullets?

Or not dodging them, as the case may be.

Margot De Wilde seemed to have a formula for telling a convincing lie. Did she also have one for delivering a hard truth?

“Very good. Now.” Eyes snapping with amusement, Hall leaned forward. “I’ve yet to get a straight answer from either Miss De Wilde or your sister about what happened here the other day to result in shorn locks. But I suspect it’s a story I want to hear.”