A Wicked Gentleman Read Online Free PDF

in all honesty I must tell you that if I were your solicitor I would most earnestly counsel against such a move. The property is not worth your original offer. Another three thousand would be a reckless expenditure…in all conscience, sir…” His voice trailed away.
    The viscount regarded him with a degree of sympathy. The poor man was clearly caught on the horns of a dilemma. On the one hand, he was obliged to advance the interests of his clients, in this case the Lacey ladies both late and present, but his conscience obliged him to tread an honest path.
    â€œI appreciate your advice, Masters, don’t think otherwise,” he said equably, drawing on his driving gloves. “And I fully understand your difficulties in offering it, but I will take the liberty of declining to act upon it. Please relay my new offer to this Lady Livia Lacey, and do what you can to discover her circumstances.” He gave the man a nod as he went to the door, flicking his riding cloak off the coatrack as he passed. “I bid you good day, Masters.”
    The lawyer hastened to accompany his august visitor down the narrow stairs to the front door. A sleety rain was falling. Harry drew the cloak tightly over his shoulders as he looked up and down the street. Beside him, his companion shivered in his black coat and britches.
    â€œGo inside, man,” Harry instructed. “My groom’s walking the horses, he’ll be back any minute, there’s no need for you to catch your death.”
    Gratefully Masters shook his visitor’s hand and retreated within.
    Harry stamped his feet, clapped his hands across his body, and cursed his groom, but without much conviction. He’d instructed the man to walk the horses to keep their blood moving, and he’d need to go farther than the end of the street and back to do that. Soon enough the two horses appeared around the corner of Cornhill. The groom, astride a sturdy cob, saw his master immediately and urged his own horse and the raking chestnut he was leading to lengthen their strides.
    â€œDevil take it, Eric, I thought you’d headed for the nearest tavern,” Harry said, taking the reins from the groom and swinging himself into the saddle. “It’s cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.”
    â€œAye, m’lord. Sorry to have kept you waiting,” the man returned stolidly. “Is it home now?”
    â€œYes, but have a care, the road’s slippery.”
    â€œAye, m’lord,” the groom muttered. “I had noticed it meself.”
    Harry shot him a quick glance and grinned. “Off your high horse, Eric. I know you had.” He clicked his tongue, nudging the horse’s flanks with his heels, and the chestnut moved forward, his neck arched, nostrils flaring against the cold.
    Harry left the horse to set his own pace on the slippery cobbles and concentrated on the considerably more than irritating news he’d just been given. If he couldn’t enter the house on Cavendish Square legitimately, he would have to resort to more devious means. There was no time to waste in this race to retrieve the package.
    Whoever was responsible for the original theft, either the French or Russians, or indeed both if they were cooperating with each other in this instance, knew that the key to the code was hidden somewhere in that neglected house on Cavendish Square. It had been a week since the theft and the debacle that had led to Lester’s injury and he knew they were as frantically trying to retrieve it as he himself. And they had the advantage of knowing exactly where to look, although they wouldn’t evade the surveillance of the Ministry’s watchers who had been in place in Cavendish Square since the dawn fracas.
    Neither it seemed would they get legitimately past the eccentric guardians of the gates. Despite his anxiety he couldn’t help but smile grimly at the recollection of his own reception at the