Margaret Moore Read Online Free PDF Page A

sported small patches of black taffeta cut in the shapes of diamonds and circles on his chin and cheek. Judging by the red skin at the edge of the one on his chin, they were there both because they were fashionable and to hide blemishes.
    As for his clothes, they were not quite so fine upon closer examination. The embroidery had obviously been mended and his gauntlet gloves and hat were far from new, although Rob thought the plume had recently been replaced.
    So, he was not as wealthy as he would like people to believe. That was unfortunate.
    After Bertie closed the door, the man turned back to Rob. “I am Sir Philip Martlebury,” he announced, by his air suggesting that Rob must have heard of him.
    He had not. Still, a nobleman was a nobleman, and he might know yet more noblemen in need of a good solicitor. “How may I help you?”
    “I am about to become engaged to the niece of a canny old buzzard and want you to negotiate the marriage settlement for me.”
    As Sir Philip steepled his fingers and smiled with smug satisfaction, Rob commanded himself to betray nothing.
    Not surprise. Not dismay Not envy.
    After all, there was nothing—nothing at all—to indicate that this had anything to do with the young woman he had met in Bankside. No doubt there were many young women in London who were in a similar situation.
    “You say nothing, Mr. Harding.”
    “I am taken aback, Sir Philip,” he replied, trusting that the man before him would apply his own flattering interpretation to that remark.
    Judging by Sir Philip’s widening smile, he did. “I gather you don’t get many men of my station coming to you on such errands. Still, I hear you are the best, and if you
are
the best, I certainly shall not be the last. I have several influential friends at court.”
    “May I ask, Sir Philip, how you came to hear of me?”
    “The whole court was buzzing about how you outsmarted that playwright when he married the rich widow.”
    At the recollection of the marriage settlement between Sir Richard Blythe and Elissa Long-bourne, Rob’s lips twitched. He had indeed drafted a very one-sided document which the groom had signed without reading. Despite his amusement, he kept his voice carefully level when he replied. “I understand they are very happily married.”
    Sir Philip had one of the most disgustingly evil chuckles it had ever been Robert’s misfortune to hear, and he had heard several evil chuckles. “He’s happy bedding her, no doubt, as I will be when I take my bride.”
    It was all Rob could do to keep his lips from curling with scorn. Rob had known men who lived in filth and poverty who would never speak of a woman with such disrespect.
    Rob wanted to tell him to get out, but Sir Philip’s next pronouncement made him hold his tongue.
    “There will be a fine fee in it for you, of course, for it will likely take several hours of work. Her uncle is the kind to haggle for days over something. Still, if all turns out as I plan, there will be a premium in it for you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you earned over fifty pounds.”
    Fifty pounds. That was nearly as much as Rob had made in the whole of the previous year. He needed the money this man was offering, and he would surely benefit from a pleased nobleman’s reference.
    As for his personal aversion to the man, he had searched through the stinking muck of the Thames to earn his bread once; surely he could put up with Sir Philip.
    It would be even more ridiculous to turn him down on the remote possibility that the man was going to marry a woman Rob had only met once, if memorably. “I accept your offer.”
    “Excellent!” The nobleman reached into his jacket and pulled out a white piece of cloth, which he sniffed delicately. The scent of a heavy, flowery perfume made Rob want to cough.
    “I shall, of course, require a portion of the fee today,” he said.
    Sir Philip frowned. “How much of a portion?”
    “Generally, I ask for a sovereign upon commencing.”
    Sir