The Wicked One Read Online Free PDF Page B

Nerissa's and Perry's return with a deceptively absent stare.  "It grows dark in here."
    "Yes, Your Grace."  Obediently, the servant lit more tapers, casting a quick glance at his silent, preoccupied master before hurrying out past Sir Roger Fox, Esquire, who sat near the hearth contemplating a glass of port.
    Fox waited until the servant had gone, then looked up at the duke, whose broad back was silhouetted by the gray light coming in from the window.  "So," he said, "you want me to have our Parisian contact abandon his surveillance of the French court and concentrate on watching the activities of this" — he smiled —"woman, instead?"
    "It is of more importance to me at the moment."
    "Yes, but is it of more importance to Britain?  As we all know, the only reason the Americans are even in Paris is to stir up trouble, to try and bring French strength in on their side of this confounded war.  We must remain one step ahead of them, otherwise we'll find ourselves fighting the damned Frogs as well as the Yankees."
    The duke did not turn from the window.  "This woman is dangerous, at the forefront of the Americans' activities, and I will continue to thwart her efforts as long as I draw breath."
    The duke let the drapes fall shut and returned to the fire, a look on his face of smug triumph.
    "What is it?" Fox asked, frowning.
    "Perry has just brought Nerissa home, and all appears to be exactly as I suspected it would be."
    "Meaning?"
    "Oh, just the predictable argument between my two little birds of paradise," Lucien drawled, reclaiming his chair and pouring himself a glass of port.  A slamming door heralded Nerissa's entrance, and both men heard the spray of gravel outside as Perry sent the phaeton thundering away from the castle at what sounded like a suicidal pace.  "So, my dear Fox.  Did you carry my letter to Lord Islington in London?"
    "Yes, and I negotiated the sale of his Spanish estate to a certain Don Eduardo Mendoza, too — though I must confess, the whole business fills me with trepidation, Lucien.  I can't imagine what you'll do with a Spanish estate, nor why you feel the need to invent a false identity under which to buy it."
    Lucien was gazing into his glass, smiling.  "Ah, but that Spanish estate will suit my needs nicely, I think.  I really did have to do something about my sister's hopeless . . . situation ."
    "Some diabolical plan up your sleeve to get your last sibling married, then?"
    "It is for her own good."
    "For the love of God, Lucien, one of these days you'll go too far and your scheming machinations will come back to haunt you."
    "Oh, but I think not," the duke murmured.  "After all, my dear Fox — I have a perfect record."
    ~~~~
    A week later, Lucien was at his correspondence when Nerissa burst in.
    "Lucien!"
    He turned, quickly schooling his face into bland inquiry, brotherly concern, banishing his triumph to a place where she would never find it.  His sister was as distraught as ever he'd seen her.  "You must do something!" she cried.  "Perry's off to Spain — Spain , of all places — and I'm afraid he'll never come back after the way I treated him!"
    Lucien felt a savage stab of delight.  So, his instructions had been followed to the letter, then . . .  Good.
    "My dear girl," he said, putting an arm around her shoulders and drawing her nearer the fire.  "Sit, and take a glass of Madeira with me while you tell me exactly what happened."
    Nerissa was too upset to sit, though she hastily accepted the glass her brother offered her and downed it with an ease that brought a frown to his deceptively mild countenance.  She began to pace, blinking back tears of anger and frustration.
    "He got a letter yesterday, from a Don somebody-or-other in Spain . . . a solicitor for the estate of some client who died intestate.  Well, this client had no heirs, and his closest living relative turned out to be Perry, of all people!  I never knew that Perry had relatives in Spain!  What other