In the Heat of the Bite Read Online Free PDF

but
that
would most likely catch someone’s attention, something he tried desperately to avoid, if possible. Although with MacQuarrie loose in the city unchaperoned, Matthew’s concerns about detection were nothing more than a futile attempt at normalcy. The Scotsman had a way of drawing attention even when he was behaving himself, which he didn’t do all that often.
    Once he was on his way, Matthew rested his head against the battered squabs as the rickety conveyance rambled from the Covent Garden district toward Whitehall. With his head pounding, he closed his eyes, which apparently was a mistake.
Her
vision instantly appeared in his mind. Drenched from her own storm, her gown clinging to her every curve. Her ebony hair falling over her shoulders. Her soft hazel eyes, which made her seem as vulnerable as a newborn kitten, blinking at him with innocence. Matthew’s eyes flew open. What the devil was wrong with him?
    The hack finally stopped at Whitehall. After Matthew handed the fare and an extra coin to the driver, he descended the stairs and boarded a small ferry across the Thames to Vauxhall Gardens. The thump of the orchestra and the raucous clatter of applause reached his ears before he had even disembarked. Bloody wonderful! The place was teeming with people, not that he was surprised. Still, that would make locating MacQuarrie all the more difficult.
    He clasped his left hand over the signet ring on his right pinkie and started to close his eyes to focus on the infernal Scot. But he stopped himself, remembering the last time he’d closed his eyes mere minutes earlier. The last thing he needed was to see Rhiannon Sinclair’s perfect, heart-shaped face again. He’d never find MacQuarrie if he allowed himself to get distracted.
    So he did the next best thing and closed
one
eye, which he was certain made him look utterly ridiculous, and tried to seek out his charge. MacQuarrie was most definitely in the pleasure gardens. Matthew could feel the Scot’s restless spirit among the humans who milled about. The question was
where
? He ambled along the path toward the supper boxes. After all, Charlotte had said MacQuarrie mentioned fireworks, hadn’t she?
    “Blodswell!” came a jovial voice from behind him.
    Matthew turned to find the aged Sir Ralph Smyth following him down the path, relying heavily on his cane.
    “Sir Ralph, how nice to see you.” And it was. Two generations ago, he and Sir Ralph had been great friends. But Sir Ralph had aged, while Matthew had not. The passage of time made it difficult to maintain close friendships.
    The old man smiled warmly. “I never do get over the resemblance. Such a shame your grandfather didn’t live to see you, my boy.”
    How Ralph would be surprised to know Matthew
was
his own grandfather. But it was part of the ruse. Spending one generation in London and then one in Derbyshire to keep people from realizing he never aged. “So you often say, sir.”
    “I am glad to see you.” Sir Ralph’s gnarly hand squeezed the rounded tip of his cane. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Blodswell.”
    That sounded fairly enigmatic. Matthew stiffened, preparing for the worst. “Yes, Sir Ralph?”
    “Well, with your grandfather gone, and your poor father, who I do regret I never got to meet, having both passed, I feel I should step in on their behalf.”
    “Step in on their behalf?” What the devil was Ralph going on about?
    “You’re not getting any younger, you know. If you don’t find a wife soon, there’ll be no heir. No one to pass your holdings to. Your family line will end.”
    Despite Matthew’s headache, he felt the overwhelming desire to laugh, though he held it in check. Still, the irony was almost too much to bear with aplomb. Ralph had fought the parson’s noose like nothing Matthew had ever seen before. The man had been well past forty by the time he finally married, and even then he had grumbled the entire time, or so Matthew had heard as he had