The Emperor's Conspiracy Read Online Free PDF Page B

nothing like now.
    Whether it was the money, or the power, or the injury that afflicted him, it hurt to see him sucked slowly into a downward spiral.
    She felt just like she had as a sweep, stuck in a chimney, with the slowly growing pain of a fire lit below her boots. Nowhere to go, trapped and helpless. Unless she went up, and then she’d lose skin.
    Whichever the outcome, pain was assured.
    But this was worse. She didn’t want to scramble away to safety, leave him behind. He deserved so much more. And he wouldn’t see—
    “Who’s the nob, then?”
    She stepped back from the door of the stall and frowned. “Lord Durnham, you mean?”
    “Pro’bly. The one with the good horses.”
    “Lady Holliday’s brother. He’s come to visit her.”
    Was it her imagination, or did Kit relax at that. “Ah, well. Just wondered.”
    “Kit, Luke hasn’t asked you to report to him on who comes to call on me, has he?” She didn’t need his answer; it was clear on his face as he ducked away, muttering about watering Durnham’s horses.
    Oh, why did Luke do this to himself? Why did he torture himself with it?
    And why did she?
    Charlotte rubbed a gloved hand across her eyes. She’d never encouraged a single suitor. Not once.
    She’d told herself they didn’t appeal. They were after Catherine’s money. Her dowry. All manner of excuses. But she faced the truth suddenly, with a fierce relief.
    She did not encourage them because when she looked into their eyes, she couldn’t bear to think of them harmed or killed, even if they were just after her money.
    And now that she was facing why she had shied away from the men of the ton like a marriage-shy rake, she also acknowledged to herself that Luke, the way he was now … Luke might just do it.
    Might just kill them.
    She dropped her hands to her side and skirted around Kit and Lord Durnham’s tiger, watering the horses and talking good-naturedly about the quality of his lordship’s horseflesh.
    She’d thought to ask Luke to help her bring down Frethers, but had hesitated to do it. Now she understood her reluctance.
    Frethers and his ilk required a fine hand, not a blunt instrument. And much though she lamented it, that is what Luke had become.

    E dward wondered what he was doing.
    He was standing in the narrow access lane that ran between the houses opposite Lady Howe’s address, watching her house.
    The lights were on downstairs, and Edward was not surprised they weren’t out tonight. There was very little on in London at the moment.
    The heat pressed down on him even now, and the sun had only just set half an hour before, even though it was after nine.
    He had only meant to go for a short walk after dinner. But his feet had led him here, and he wondered whether he should go up to the door and knock, or do the sensible thing and head back home to his study and the troubles that lay on his desk, waiting for him to solve.
    The pity of it was that those papers did not hold even close to the same interest for him at the moment as the woman behind that door.
    The side entrance of Lady Howe’s opened, the light from within the kitchen spilling out into a service alley just like the one he stood in, and two people stepped out.
    Edward edged deeper into the shadows.
    “I see you ’ave your sturdy stampers on,” a man said softly, as they turned right, onto the pavement just in front of him.
    “I’m not walking to Tothill Road in heels or slippers, that’s for certain.” The woman’s tone was dry and amused.
    Edward went still. He couldn’t move for a moment, as if shock and surprise had encased him in amber. Then disbelief, and something else, something darker, snapped him out of it, and he strained to watch them as they passed under a streetlamp. He was hoping, hoping he was mistaken.
    They came under the weak glow, and the woman stilled. Stopped and turned, as if sensing his fierce concentration.
    “Someone walk over your grave?” The man with her was young, dressed