A Lady’s Secret Read Online Free PDF

centered on Saint James’s Palace in London.”
    “True”
    “That is where the king lives.”
    “Not true.”
    “No?”
    “The palace is a rambling old warren which the king only uses for official functions. He lives at the Queen’s House—that’s its name—in a more rural setting.”
    “And the court? His courtiers?”
    “Live in their London houses when necessary and their country ones when they can, as now. In summer even the king moves farther into the country, to Richmond Lodge.”
    “How far is that from London?”
    “About ten miles.”
    Not too far. She could walk that distance if a carriage would be too expensive.
    “You seek someone who will be at court?” he asked.
    Trapped, Petra said, “Perhaps.”
    “Who?”
    “I can’t tell you that.”
    “You could trust me.”
    “I’ve known you less than an hour, sir.”
    “Even so.”
    “Exactly so,” she said.
    “Stubbornness is not a virtue.”
    “Nor is persistence.”
    “Isn’t it? Sister Immaculata—if that is your real name—I predict that you’ll encounter difficulties in England. You will need me.”
    She met his eyes firmly. “And I know that I will not.”
    Her declaration was hollow and he must have known it, but she could not allow him to take over her life. She understood his price for that.
    He shrugged with irritating confidence. “So you seek a gentleman of the court. If you won’t supply a name, I will. A title?” When she didn’t respond, he said, “Why not? Lord, as it covers everyone except dukes. I assume he’s not a duke?”
    “You are irritatingly flippant, sir.”
    “If you won’t amuse, I must. Let’s see. Lord Mystery, Lord Conundrum, Lord Puzzle, Lord Riddle…Riddle!” he declared. “You seek Lord Riddlesome.”
    “As you wish.” Petra smiled despite herself. By chance he had the first letter right.
    “But unless Riddlesome is part of the king’s household, Sister dear, he won’t be at Richmond Lodge. He’ll be enjoying bucolic pleasures at his country estate—Riddlesome Hall. So where is that?”
    She remained silent.
    “North of London?”
    That tricked a “No” out of her and she tightened her lips.
    “You are a very irritating woman,” he said. His silly little dog suddenly whined and came to her feet. He scooped her up. “She irritates you, too?” He smiled at Petra. “She says yes.”
    “She’d say yes to anything you said,” she snapped, then realized she’d been tricked into his nonsense.
    “Just because you can win over a dog so easily doesn’t mean you will win me.”
    “No?” Long fingers playing in fur again, stroking the dog to besotted contentment.
    She forced her gaze up to his face. “Not even with your beautiful blue eyes.”
    He smiled. “Are they beautiful?”
    Why, oh, why, had she said that? Grateful that growing darkness stole their power, she said, “You know they are, sir, and you enjoy using them to devastating effect.”
    “Are you devastated?”
    “Not at all.”
    “Of course, you’re not lying in my lap, being stroked. We were talking of Coquette, weren’t we?”
    Heat flared in her cheeks. “It’s wicked to say such things to a nun!”
    “It’s wicked for a nun to respond.”
    “I didn’t!”
    He silently accused her of lying, and he was right. But then he said, “I apologize. Unfair to play such games when you have no escape. I’ll try to be good. So what is your native tongue?”
    Petra felt tossed breathlessly from near drowning onto dry land.
    “Italian.”
    “Then your linguistic abilities are impressive. Your French is good and your English almost perfect.”
    “Only almost?”
    “Alas, a slight accent, but lovely.”
    She smiled, but then realized she was being stroked in another way.
    “How did you learn so well?” he asked.
    Petra searched the question for traps, but found none. “I had an English nurse, then later an English governess. How do you speak such good French?”
    “I had a French nurse and governess, but