Dancing With A Devil Read Online Free PDF

I cannot think of anything phonier or less enjoyable.”
    Sutherland shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
    “ You know I will.”
    “ I’ll see you there, Davenport,” Sutherland said before taking his leave.
    Trent shrugged into his own coat before speaking. “Why do you always do that?”
    “ Do what?” Dinnisfree asked.
    “ Keep everyone at arm’s length.”
    “ Because I have to, just as you once did. I cannot afford to trust anyone, but tell me, lately I find myself curious if that feeling has ended for you since retiring.”
    The question made Trent uncomfortable. “Are you considering retiring?”
    “ Never. And do not try to avoid what I asked. Do you trust as you once did?”
    Trent knew what Dinnisfree meant. His life would never be the same as before he was a spy. He rubbed his chin for a moment, the already burgeoning whiskers prickling his fingers. He had been trained extensively―just like Dinnisfree―to trust no one but his fellow spies, yet he had slipped with Gwyneth. She had broken down his walls one by one and gained his confidence. He’d been too in love to recognize what was happening and too late he had realized that Gwyneth was a French spy on a mission to secure the secret correspondence it was his job to transport between Prinny and the men who guarded Napoleon.
    “ No. I don’t trust as I once did.” And he never would, but that had more to do with what Gwyneth had done to him than anything else. She had shown him just how wrong he could be about a woman, and it was a lesson he would never forget.
    Dinnisfree nodded. “I did not think so. You have that same haunted look in your eyes as you did the day I rescued you from Bagne de Toulon. Which begs the question of why you are going to the Allred ball to help Lady Audrey if she will never be anything to you.”
    “ She is something to me,” he said, surprising himself with the verbal admission. “She is a friend, and I don’t bloody well know why, but I’m compelled to watch over her. Speaking of which, I need to be departing.” They strolled through the crowded room side by side, retrieved their hats from the coatroom and walked down the brick steps of the club and into the dark night made glowing thanks to the lit street lamps. “Will I see you at Gritton’s tomorrow?” Trent asked as his coachman slowly pulled his carriage up to the curb.
    Dinnisfree shook his head. “No boxing for me tomorrow. I’ll be headed to France.”
    Trent stilled and checked the streets for anyone who might overhear them, a habit that would likely never fade. “Is this a job or are you running away to wrestle your demons?” Not an unusual occurrence for Dinnisfree. Sometimes Trent envied the man’s lack of family ties that enabled him simply to go as he pleased, but then he would see his mother, brother or cousins and his envy for Dinnisfree would be replaced by pity.
    Dinnisfree compressed his lips into a thin line. “I keep my demons in a steel box and I threw the key away long ago, my friend. They can’t get out and I can’t get in.”
    Trent grunted. It was typical of Dinnisfree to refuse to talk about his past, or even acknowledge he had one. With a wave, the duke disappeared into his carriage and Trent stood on the cobblestone streets without moving until it pulled away. He closed his eyes and breathed in the crisp scent of soil and grass that accompanied the aftermath of a sunny day ending.
    An ache he recognized as loneliness seeped into his bones as a pleasant breeze blew around him. Slowly, he opened his eyes and stared up at the sky. The moon and stars overhead reminded him of many long summer nights when he had been a lad. He would sneak out of his room to go and fetch his cousin Whitney when she was visiting, and they would swim in the creek at night, oblivious to the dangers or the pain of life. He yanked his greatcoat tighter and climbed into his own carriage before tapping on the side and telling his driver where to go.
    As the