Stealing the Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

battlefields of Spain and the very dark and ohso-dangerous heart of Paris.
    “I daresay I didn’t know you held membership at White’s,” Temple said, “for if I had I would have invited you down here more often.”
    Pymm glanced around and shuddered. “My membership was a gift some time back from the prime minister. Hardly something I sought out. In truth, I’ve never been here. Don’t like to make myself a familiar sight, if you know what I mean.”
    Temple wasn’t surprised at his superior’s lofty connections. “Well, you should drop in more often. Why, if you’d been here just a half an hour earlier, you would have witnessed the spectacle of the Season.”
    Pymm nodded at a passing waiter. Before telling the man what he wanted, he asked, “Who’s buying?”
    Colin raised his hand.
    The man grinned and ordered a rare and expensive bottle of port.
    “As I was saying, you’ll never believe what happened,” Temple continued.
    Pymm’s gaze rolled upward, as if he doubted that any excitement at White’s could offer something of interest to him. “Sir, I have neither the time nor the interest in the falderal that makes up the wasted hours in this place,” he said, as the waiter arrived with a tumbler and the bottle. Pymm filled his glass to the very rim and made no offer to share.
    Not that Temple expected him to. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d seen the state Lamden was in.”
    “ Lamden? ” Pymm sputtered. “Here?”
    “Thought that might interest you. Him being one of your old cronies and all. In quite a lather too.” Temple leaned back, enjoying the rarity of relaying a piece of information to Pymm that the man did not already know…or suspect. “Apparently his daughter has run off with Cordell.”
    “This is a disaster,” Pymm wheezed, struggling to catch his breath. He grappled for his glass, and hastily brought the drink to his lips and took a long, deliberate draught, as if he hoped it were an elixir to make some nightmare fade into oblivion.
    “Oh, it gets worse,” Temple told him. “Lamden sent Pins and Needles after the happy bridal couple. Pins and Needles? Can you imagine two more useless fellows to send after your errant daughter?”
    “He did wh-a-a-at?”
    Pymm looked about to be overcome with apoplexy, but that didn’t stop Temple. He grinned and leaned forward. “He sent Lord Nettlestone and Lord Harry Penham after Diana and Cordell. What a lark!”
    Temple’s superior turned positively bilious.
    Colin crossed his arms over his chest, glaring daggers at his cousin as if he were a child caught stealing tarts.
    Ignoring the censure aimed in his direction, Temple instead relished the rarity of besting Pymm. However, his joy at the other man’s discomfiture didn’t last very long. For after a few moments, Pymm’s eyes narrowed, a look of pure intent erasing the man’s queasy appearance.
    As he turned his sharp gaze on Temple, the marquis knew he was about to pay the piper for thinking he could best the Foreign Office’s legendary spymaster.
    “Damn Lamden!” Pymm said, his voice low and full of anger. “He always was a hotheaded fool. ’Tis why he spent most of his career here in London and not in the field. Especially after…after…well, never mind that.” Pymm’s nose twitched and he took a quick, nervous sip from his glass, and then frowned when he realized the tumbler was empty. “I had hoped to see this matter handled with some delicacy. See the girl fetched home, quietly, discreetly,” he said as he reached for the bottle.
    This caught Colin’s attention. “You knew about Lady Diana’s kidnapping?”
    Pymm shot him a withering stare, and it was enough to settle Colin back in his seat and keep his questions to himself.
    “Since when did you meddle in the affairs of ladies?” Temple dared, winking at his cousin. “Perhaps Pymm here thought to court the heiress himself.”
    But Colin didn’t appear to share in his amusement over the