Sweet Revenge Read Online Free PDF

embroidery.”
    “Alas, no,” responded Saybrook politely. “The only sliver of sharpened steel I’ve ever wielded is a saber—Oh, and a stiletto.” He tapped a finger to his chin. “Come to think of it, though, I did embroider a rather distinctive design on a man’s chest once. It was the words ‘COWARDLY CUR’ spelled out in large capital letters. Seeing as he liked to rough up women before forcing himself on them, I thought it only sporting to give the weaker sex fair warning.”
    He and Grentham locked eyes. Neither one blinked.
    It was Crandall who broke the tense silence with a cough. “Will that be all, milord?”
    “Yes, yes.” A drawer clicked open. “On your way out, ask Jenkins to bring me the file on the Swedish ambassador’s brothel visits.”
    “This way, Lord Saybrook,” growled Crandall.
     
    Slipping out from the stairwell, Arianna hurried down the dimly lit corridor and eased open the door to her employer’s study. Lady Spencer was upstairs entertaining the Prince Regent as he dined on his midday meal, and despite the strict restrictions on the royal appetite, the interlude ought to last at least another hour. In and out. With the servants gathered for their own repast, the chances of being caught seemed slim.
    It was worth the risk, she decided. At any moment the military might return to begin holding her balls to the fire—metaphorically speaking. When it came to that, she had an idea of how to escape the heat, but she would hate to flee empty-handed.
    Hearing the crunch of gravel, Arianna ducked behind the draperies and watched as a guard dressed as a gardener marched past the window.
    Bloody hell. With disguises and deceptions running rampant, the situation bordered on pure farce. Her father, whose favorite Shakespeare play was As You Like It , would have roared with laughter at seeing his daughter tweak the noses of the authorities by playing a modern-day Rosalind. Her mouth gave an involuntary twitch. Aye, and it would be even more amusing were my life not dangling by a thread.
    Reminded of the danger in dallying, Arianna quickly crossed to the Chinoise escritoire set in the far corner of the room. Like its owner, the striking piece was designed to draw the eye. The exotic bamboo legs, twined with sinuous serpents, gleamed with gilded gold. In bold contrast, the ebony-trimmed drawers and writing surface were lacquered in a deep shade of vermilion.
    The color of blood, thought Arianna, riffling through the sheets of scented stationery that lay in careless disarray beside the crystal inkwell. Finding them all blank, she moved on to the row of drawers, whose contents proved to be just as uninteresting.
    Moving on, she found only stubs of sealing wax and a vial of musky perfume in the last compartment.
    Damn. There must be something. Her employer’s reputation for pursuing profligate pleasure was the reason she had spent weeks of manipulation to gain a position here.
    The pigeonholes were stuffed with various bills, most of them unpaid for some time, judging by the shrill tone of the shopkeepers. As she sorted through them, Arianna mentally reviewed what she knew about the mistress of the house. A buxom blond widow of moderate means, Lady Spencer was no stranger to dalliances with rich men. The Prince Regent was her latest paramour, and by all accounts, the affair had started six months ago, when the two of them had met during a weeklong party at the Prince’s Royal Pavilion in Brighton.
    Finished with the bills, Arianna paused, taking a moment to study the decorative strip of paneling above the drawers. Reopening the center one, she pulled it out all the way and slid her hand into the opening, feeling for any ridge or groove hidden at the back.
    There were other, darker rumors, too. Whispered hints about Lady Spencer’s involvement with men far more debauched than Prinny. It was said that she had been introduced to the Royal Rake by several of his cronies from the Carlton House set,