Regency Spymasters 01 - Spy Fall Read Online Free PDF Page A

one of England’s highest lords. Longing speared through her at the thought of Maman, whom she hadn’t seen in almost a year. She missed her mother’s warmth and easy laughter. Hopefully, once she completed this mission, she could return home for a visit. Turning her thoughts back to business, she said, “I don’t think we have to destroy the bridge.”
    “Is that wise?” He chewed on the green sliver of grass. “You need a valid reason for staying there.”
    “I think we have one. Aldridge is a great admirer of aerostation.”
    “I don’t like it.” He frowned. “It’s a risk. Destroying the bridge removes any question of your leaving.”
    “It also cuts the house off from visitors. It’s possible he isn’t sending the information out by boat.”
    “Then why is he here on the coast?” The blade of grass bobbed from between his teeth. “Why not his castle in Oxfordshire?”
    She shrugged. “I do not know. Besides, the old man is sick and his doctor can only visit if the bridge is passable.”
    Marcel tilted his head at her. “Don’t go soft, Mari. If the old man dies, so be it. It might solve our problems.”
    “Or it might not. If he has the document, it could very well fall into someone else’s hands.”
    “I don’t like it.”
    She toughened her tone. “I say we don’t destroy the bridge. Not yet.”
    He shook his head with disgust. Marcel never got used to taking orders from her. “Very well. It’s your neck in the end. What do we do next?”
    “Get Maxim and come to Langtry with the balloon.”
    “Land on the property in the light of day?” He threw his hands up in a show of exasperation. “Just like that?”
    “ Exactement. ”
    “ Et après? ”
    “I’ve got a plan.” All she had to do was make sure Dunsmore didn’t interfere with her goal. “Leave it to me.”
    Both men came to their feet when Mari entered the dining room that evening. Dunsmore appeared to move more slowly so his father’s lack of agility would seem less apparent.
    “Mademoiselle Lamarre, I’m so pleased you could join us,” Aldridge said from the far end of the long mahogany table.
    “Thank you, my lord. I apologize for my attire.” She gestured at her breeches. “But I fear I have nothing else to wear.”
    “No apologies necessary. With the bridge washed out, there’s no getting to the village seamstress to secure suitable attire.”
    The butler entered and went to the marquess. Excusing himself, Aldridge turned away from the table to consult with the man on some matter they discussed in murmurs too low for Mari to overhear.
    Dunsmore came over to pull out her chair. “I confess this is the first time I’ve dined with a woman wearing breeches,” he said lightly in her ear.
    “I can only imagine what the women you consort with usually wear,” she said, taking her seat.
    “Or not wear,” he murmured, his lips briefly touching her ear. “To my eternal delight.”
    Straightening, he moved away at an easy stride, settling against the carved back of his dark wood chair. But he’d already made his mischief. The raton had her picturing his brawny form in a state of undress, opposite an equally indecent woman. With just a few insinuating words, he’d managed to stir a physical response in her. Clearly, he’d put away any distress she’d caused him earlier in the day.
    When Aldridge returned to the table, Toby—the man who’d brought up the water for her bath—served the first course. “I hope you don’t mind that we dine in an informal style here at Langtry,” Aldridge said as Toby placed his soup before him. “We keep to simple meals.”
    Nothing about the hand-painted porcelain plates edged with gilded braiding, or the crystal goblets sparkling with reflections of candlelight, struck her as informal. She felt utterly underdressed, and as out of place as Robespierre would have been dining at Versailles.
    Aldridge continued. “We’re rarely in residence; hence we keep a small