Rogue's Honor Read Online Free PDF

as big a ninny as Mr. St. Clair thinks I am."
    Argos agreeably wagged his tail and placed
one white paw on her knee.
    "Feel free to contradict me," she told him.
"It's the polite thing to do, when a lady speaks ill of
herself."
    The dog declined to respond, so Pearl rose
again, to explore her temporary quarters. Her first estimation had
been correct. The furnishings and artworks were of the very highest
quality. Her curiosity about Mr. St. Clair increased.
    Going to the mahogany sideboard, she found
the bread and cheese he had mentioned and cut herself a generous
slab of each. She had not eaten since luncheon, she suddenly
realized. Didn't the Mountheaths feed their hired help? Indignation
further bolstered her courage.
    Returning to her chair with her simple
supper, she amused herself by sharing the occasional morsel with
the dog, who obligingly sat up, extended a paw, or rolled over on
command. Pearl was charmed. Thus occupied, the hour of waiting
passed relatively painlessly.

    * * *

    Luke had misgivings about leaving Purdy alone
in his rooms, but aside from his perfectly plausible plan to find
her friend, he needed to get away from her, to firmly remind
himself that she was off-limits. The truth was, he was finding
himself far more attracted to the lovely simpleton than was
decent.
    He chuckled sourly as he descended the stairs
to the foggy alley below. When had considerations of decency ever
constrained him? Still, he'd never stooped so low as to take
advantage of a child, and for all her beauty, Purdy was little
more, due to her limited understanding.
    The shock of disappointment he'd felt on
realizing that, after the instant connection they had seemed to
share, had actually been physical in its intensity.
    He refused to dwell on it now, though. This
was his opportunity to retrieve the evening's haul from its hiding
place outside the Mountheath house. By searching for Purdy's friend
at the same time, he could kill two birds with one stone. Three,
counting this most necessary separation from his delectable
guest.
    Alone, it took him half the time to reach
Mayfair that it had taken him to lead Purdy to Seven Dials. In less
than fifteen minutes, he emerged from the mews behind Berkley
Square. The Mountheath house was brightly lit, the entertainment
clearly still in full swing, with no sign of any disturbance yet.
Good.
    Casually, so that it would look as though he
were merely taking the air if he was seen, Luke angled into the
small garden behind the house. Alert for anyone venturing out of
the servants' entrance, he knelt to move aside a pair of bricks
near a large rosebush, still in bud. There, in the depression he'd
located before beginning his night's work, was the cloth-wrapped
parcel, right where he'd left it.
    He tucked the bundle inside his shirt and
slid it around to the back of his waist, where the bulge would be
less noticeable. It would be risky venturing back into the house
with the goods on him, but he had no choice if he was to find
Purdy's friend.
    The kitchens were still bustling, though by
this late hour the activity was less frantic than it had been when
he'd left. Assuming a slack-jawed expression, he approached the
cook's assistant.
    "You!" she exclaimed. "And where 'ave you
been this hour and more? Tipplin' his lordship's wine, by the look
of you."
    "Nay, nay, t'was me own gin, missus," drawled
Luke with an injured air. "I'll last for a bit, now."
    She glared at him. "Off with you! We want no
sots working here."
    He blinked fuzzily. "What about my shillin'?
And I won't leave without my sister Hettie."
    Grumbling, the woman sent a maid in search of
Hettie, wherever she might be, and counted out sixpence into Luke's
outstretched palm. "I'm giving you but half, and may it be a lesson
to you."
    "Half?" He argued with her, since it would
have looked suspicious otherwise, but only until the maid returned
to report she'd found no such person as Hettie.
    "Are you sure?" he asked, not having to feign
his