Suzanne Robinson Read Online Free PDF

Behave yourself, Mr. Ross.”
    “Yes, Miz Lavinia.”
    “And drop that absurd accent,” Lavinia said as she headed for the monumental Corinthian portico. “You may have fooled my niece, but you haven’t deceived me.”
    Nick lifted his hat, swept it off and around in a half circle, and bowed. “Yes, ma’am.”
    He replaced his hat, shifted his saddlebags, and beckoned to Randall, who had retreated discreetly out of hearing range. Lapsing into the manner of speech his tutors had been drilling into him for the past several years, he presented the butler with an engraved calling card.
    “His lordship informed you of my visit?”
    Randall glanced down at the card. His eyes widened, but he quickly recovered. “Of course, sir. Your man has just arrived with your things. May I show you to your room?”
    “Thank you.”
    Randall offered to carry his saddlebags, but Nick declined and followed the butler’s dignified progress up the stairs and into the house that was more palace than home. He entered a hall as big as a goblin-king’s cave. The first thing he noticed was that it was lined with alcoves peopled with statues of naked men and women. He recognized some of them from his studies with his valet/tutor. His steps slowed as he took in the graceful curves of Ariadne.
    Randall had reached the opposite end of the room as Nick passed a statue of David. It sprouted a second head from its ribs, but this one wore a close-fitting, plumed bonnet and masses of false blond curls surrounding a face full of powdered wrinkles. And it hissed at him.
    “Psst!”
    Nick stopped as the stranger emerged from her hiding place and gestured for him to come closer. He glanced at Randall, who was looking at the ceiling in a deliberate manner, then joined the lady. She wasdressed in a pink muslin gown with a high waist, puffed sleeves, and tight, long undersleeves. He’d seen ladies dressed like this in pictures of half a century ago, but this one had the eagle’s-beak nose inherited by many members of the Hyde family. The prominent feature sat oddly with the lady’s air of daintiness, the curls, the plumes, the pink muslin.
    He eyed her flat silk pumps, the brooch bearing a portrait of the Prince Regent affixed to her high collar, and her fringed silk parasol. Red-rimmed bean-brown eyes cut from side to side as if she expected to be attacked at any moment. She grabbed his arm with a gloved hand and pulled him into the alcove so that they were wedged between a wall and the statue.
    “I saw you arrive,” she said in a desperate whisper. She paused to look around suspiciously at Randall. “Have you come from the Peninsula?”
    “The Peninsula?”
    “From Wellesley,” she said. Her voice was high and had that unfortunate squeaky quality with which some young ladies were cursed. “About the French spy. I saw you confront her. You must be clever, or she would have gotten rid of you. I wrote the marquess about her, and he said he’d sent someone to help me. Shhh.”
    She pulled Nick closer and lowered her voice. “Napoleon has sent her here to intercept my communications with the Prince Regent. I pass them on to Wellington, as you know.”
    She paused and gave him a proud look as if she expected him to reply. Nick fought the urge to gawk at this wizened little Regency belle and nodded in his most solemn manner.
    “Of course, my lady.”
    The faint sound of a door closing made his companion jump and drop her parasol. He retrieved it for her.
    “I must go. We can’t be seen together. I’m glad Wellington has finally responded as is due my consequence. I’ll not refine too much upon his tardiness.” She poked her head out of the alcove, noted Randall’s turned back, and left.
    Nick watched her little slippers skid across the marble floor beneath the high hem of her gown, then came out of his amazement as she left the house. He joined Randall, who resumed his stately progress up an elegantly curved staircase covered with thick,