Somewhat Scandalous (Brambridge Novel 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

ignominiously into pink sofas was, however, certainly not in a spymaster’s job description.
    Thrusting his chin upwards, he watched as Granwich shuddered outwardly. Remaining calm and watchful, he flicked a small feather away from the fold of his breeches. Henry hadn’t been named the Hawk just for his patrician nose; indeed his valet Ames had laughed as he had recounted the rumors that it was because he located his prey, watched them, and then, some whispered, killed them with his bare hands. Henry smoothed at the soft material of his breeches and shrugged inwardly; they would say what they will. But that episode in Wales was a case in point. There were some things that just came with the job. He jiggled his knee with impatience.
    Granwich took another sip of the brandy. “We feel that it would be a good idea if you,” he coughed, “if you took a wife.” Granwich knocked back the amber liquid and subsided back into his chair.
    Henry gazed at the older man, the smoke from the fire tickling his eyes as he refused to blink. Heat coursed through his body, right down to his feet. He hoped desperately it was the effects of the fire and the enveloping warmth of the over cushioned sofa. Putting a foot slowly out, he stood and turned the chair to shield himself from the flames. Facing away from Granwich, he squared his shoulders and took a deep breath in, and out, blinking furiously. Twisting his lips upwards slightly, he turned round and sat down again, careful not to sink quite as far into the chair.
    Granwich gazed into the bottom of his empty glass as if surprised to see it finished.
    “Why?” Henry crossed his legs.
    Granwich tipped the glass from side to side, the dregs of liquid rolling in its base. “You will be able to move about the ton more freely if you don’t have to avoid all the dowagers. I’ve heard that a new French spy is operating in London. I may need you to go after him.” He stopped tilting the glass and put it down on a low table that sat between them.
    Henry folded his arms. It was true that he spent a reasonable amount of time in the card rooms. That was where all the good information was to be gathered. In general the dowagers had nothing interesting to impart. They started most conversations with ‘have you met my daughter?’ which he was most certainly not interested in. “Not good enough, Granwich.”
    Granwich shifted uncomfortably, reached out for the glass and then, seeming to change his mind, withdrew his arm again. “To lay it on the line, Henry. You are not getting any younger. Many men your age are getting leg shackled now. If you stay single, people will begin to talk .”
    Henry nodded slowly, his cravat pinching tightly against his chin. Dammit—he was only twenty eight, his best years were ahead of him. A woman would get in the way of his search . The wound on his head began to radiate pain down his skull again.
    Granwich grimaced. “As unpalatable as it might by Henry, you can’t be a spy if scurrilous rumors surround your every move. You know about the art of subterfuge, especially given your family history.”
    He continued to nod. He couldn’t stop himself as horror crept through his veins and seemed to take control of his head, pain radiating with every nod. Debutantes were silly . They were simpering misses whose veneer of sophistication covered either heads filled with sponge, or Machiavellian minds ready to entrap their next lord. They would have given any of the spies that he had caught a run for their money. Worst of all, they all ran the risk of getting rather a little too close to him. As he stopped nodding with a jerk, he put a hand to the back of his aching head. His mind slid dangerously towards the small figure in large boots who had nearly killed him. Her motives were refreshingly obvious. In fact she seemed to actively dislike him—so much the better.
    “I will think on it,” he said.
    Granwich sighed, obviously in relief, as a rap at the door sounded