Lord and Lady Spy Read Online Free PDF Page A

festering with shame.
    He should forgive his father. The man was long dead, and God knew he’d paid for his crimes. Melbourne was right. Adrian should forget his father, step out from his shadow. After all, he’d barely known the man.
    But the more Adrian contemplated having his own family, the more his father’s legacy haunted him. Adrian swore he would be different. His children would be proud to call him father, proud of what he’d accomplished.
    If he ever had children. A new pain, this one a dull throb, replaced the anger.
    The sharp, staccato pounding continued, and Adrian pushed out of his chair, rose, and stomped to the window. What the hell was the woman doing out there? Gardening was supposed to be a peaceful, quiet activity—tilling the soil, dropping in seeds, pulling weeds. Why did it sound like she had taken shovel to stone? And why did he care? The banality of life at home was driving him mad. He wanted to throw open the French doors, stride to Melbourne’s office, and force the secretary to reinstall him.
    Adrian massaged the bridge of his nose. Even as a child, he’d hated being told no —a selfish trait everyone said he shared with his treacherous father.
    Stop it , he told himself. He was nothing like his father. James Galloway had been a criminal, and he’d been tried and hanged for his treason. Adrian was knighted for his service to England.
    He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window. But was it enough? Had he done enough to wipe the taint from the family name?
    Can you ever do enough? a dark voice whispered.
    “Yes,” Adrian muttered to himself. But he hadn’t yet. He could do more, would do more, and if Melbourne thought he could stop him—
    He heard a tap on the door. “Enter.”
    A footman did so, carrying a silver tray. Even from across the room, Adrian recognized Melbourne’s handwriting on the card in the center. Adrian stiffened as the familiar rush of anticipation coursed through him.
    ***
    Adrian was angry, and it didn’t take a spy to figure that out. For the past day, he’d stomped around the town house like an irate dragon. This morning he’d snapped at one of the maids for dusting too loudly. Before long, Sophia wouldn’t just be imagining smoke furling from his nostrils.
    He’d even deigned to notice her. He was usually benignly neglectful toward her on the infrequent occasions they dined together, but at breakfast this morning, he’d scowled at her.
    How she wished she could scowl right back, tell him he was being ridiculous if he believed she was pregnant. She would never betray him. How could he even believe that of her? If he thought that little of her, he deserved to stew. Besides, he wasn’t the only one in an infernal mood, and at least she had a valid reason for her ill temper. Yesterday afternoon, she’d tried to gain an interview with Lord Melbourne, secretary of the Barbican group, and her request had been denied. She was no closer to reinstatement than before. Her patience, never her best trait, was wearing thin.
    Thank God she had this garden as an escape. This hot, overgrown, dirty garden. She’d been out here for several hours and had accomplished almost nothing. The only task she seemed capable of was tapping her metal spade against a large rock protruding from what should have been her flower bed.
    Clank. Clank. Clank.
    The sound was oddly soothing—perhaps because it drowned out the loop of desperate pleas racing through her head.
    “What on earth is that infernal noise?” A voice rose from the other side of the gate, and Sophia jumped in recognition.
    With a furtive peek at the house behind her, she rose. “What are you doing here?”
    “Saving you, as usual,” Agent Blue said, crossing one ankle over the other and leaning one shoulder against the gate. “And not a moment too soon.” He gave Sophia a quick perusal. “I’ve seen you look better after a knife fight. Good God, Saint, where did you get those enormous