Whisper To Me of Love Read Online Free PDF

dimber-damber?”
    Eyes bright with deep emotion, Pip said vehemently, “We’re all in this together and we won’t be separated! We’ll either flee this ugly hovel together or we’ll all dance at the end of a rope!”
    Jacko laughed slightly, his set features relaxing. He was sincere in his offer and he would have done everything within his power to help the others escape, but he would not have been honest with himself if he denied the feeling of relief that swept through him at their words. Sitting up straighter in his chair, he sent the two people he loved most in the world a keen glance. “It is decided then? We will become housebreakers?”
    Pip and Ben shrugged their shoulders. “We really don’t have any other choice, do we?” Ben said.
    Flatly, Jacko agreed. “No. The dimber-damber has made sure of that!”
    â€œHow soon do you think that he intends for us to start our new endeavor?” Pip asked curiously.
    â€œWithin the week, I would suspect. There’s that sparring match tomorrow at Fives Court, and we’re to work the crowd.... I’ll probably see him that evening to turn over whatever trinkets we’ve managed to steal.”
    Pip stretched and muttered, “I suppose once we get a bit of experience behind us, we’ll wonder why we ever had any reservations about becoming housebreakers.”
    Ben gave the dark, curly head an affectionate caress. “Oh, aye, no doubt you are right. We’ve become so expert at picking pockets that there is no excitement left—that sparring match tomorrow will probably be rather boring to us, now that we’ve decided to turn our hands at a different type of crime.”
    Knowing the daredevil streak in both of his younger siblings, Jacko frowned. “I wouldn’t get too cocky if I were you two—we’re very good at what we do, but there is also a possibility of a mistake.”
    Pip hooted with laughter. “A mistake? Me, make a mistake? And at a sparring match, at that? You know I find them boring, so I’ll be much more inclined to concentrate on business—picking pockets for our dear, dear dimber-damber. The bloody bastard!”
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    In one of the grand homes that graced Hanover Square, two gentlemen were enjoying a glass of port, having just finished an excellent meal of spring veal and tender peas. They were sitting in an elegantly appointed room, straw-colored silk-hung walls contrasting nicely with the jewel tones of the ruby- and sapphire-hued Oriental rug that lay upon the floor. Tall, narrow windows that overlooked the square were draped in an exquisite ruby velvet, while overhead the many long tapers of a multifaceted crystal chandelier bathed the spacious room in golden light.
    His long legs stretched out comfortably in front of him, Royce Manchester was sprawled in a high-backed chair near the flames that danced on the hearth of a marble-fronted fireplace. Despite the fact that it was early June, the day had been a chilly one, and Royce was glad of the warmth of the fire. Taking a sip of his port, he remarked, “I trust that the weather will be less inclement tomorrow, when we attend that damned sparring match you insisted I must see. Since neither of the pugilists are particularly noted for their skill, I suspect that we shall find it rather boring.”
    Zachary Seymour, Royce’s young cousin, merely grinned, knowing full well that Royce never allowed himself to become bored. If the match proved to be as dull as Royce feared, Zachary was quite certain that his much-admired cousin would find a way to salvage the afternoon.
    It would have been obvious to even the most casual observer that the two men were closely related, in spite of the differences in their ages and coloring. At thirty-three, Royce was at the peak of his physical prowess, his tall body lean and fit, with well-defined, powerful muscles, while Zachary, barely twenty years old,