Our Wicked Mistake Read Online Free Page B

jotting down intimate details of your sexual moments with your wife is a poor idea, but a private journal is just that: private. I am sure Lord Brewer did not expect to expire at such a young age. Besides, he is not the first person who chronicled the experiences of his life on paper each day. Many people keep diaries.”
    “True,” Michael admitted, though if he happened to be so inclined, it would be a breach in security that would make the Crown very unhappy indeed. He thought Lord Brewer foolishly sentimental, but refrained from saying so. Luke didn’t open up easily, and he had a reason for arriving on the doorstep at such an early hour. “It was an error in judgment, but not everyone anticipates such a contingency as someone with low moral values prying into your life.”
    “I couldn’t agree more.” Luke seemed absorbed in taking a bite of sausage, chewing carefully and swallow ing before asking, “If you were me, what would you do next?”
    “About Lady Brewer’s dilemma?”
    Or , Michael thought privately, about the lady herself?
    “Something has to be done about Fitch.”
    “Are you asking me for advice, or do you wish me to step in?” Michael picked up his coffee cup and looked pointedly at his old friend.
    “I’m not sure. You are much more versed in matters of this sort.”
    “Bloodied, senseless gentlemen in the house of one of my paramours? No, I have to say that is out of the realm of my experience.”
    “She isn’t my paramour.” The words were clipped. “Madeline is an acquaintance—that’s all.”
    The beautiful Lady Brewer felt free to call on Luke in a moment of dire need, and considering his prickly at titude about the woman in question, Michael somehow doubted acquaintance was the right word, but he let it go. Lately Luke had been touchy and more restless than usual, and maybe it had something to do with her. He kept late hours, and this morning in particular looked urbane and collected as usual, but there was a tired line to his mouth.
    The morning was bright and clear, the sky outside the windows of the informal breakfast room showing a sea of cloudless blue. After a sip of coffee, Michael set down his cup with deliberate care. “You say you returned him to his town house and told his majordomo you’d found him unconscious in an alley outside our club?”
    “I thought it sounded like a plausible explanation.” Luke’s lean body held a subtle but discernable tension. “He summoned the physician, who pronounced the wound superficial and said he thought Fitch was more foxed than anything, if the smell of brandy was an in dication. I can confirm the man reeked of it, and when I put him in the carriage an empty flask fell from his pocket, though I doubt his excesses of the evening were confined to that one container.”
    “But we are still left with the dilemma of Lord Brew er’s private writings somehow in the possession of the nefarious Fitch, whether he recovers or not, correct?”
    “Correct.”
    “I believe I can probably take care of that.”
    For the first time since his arrival, Luke smiled, and while it didn’t have the same effect on him as it did on the susceptible ladies of society, Michael was glad to see the normally careless Viscount Altea resurface for a moment.
    Luke murmured, “I thought you might be able to help.”
    “For Lady Brewer’s sake?” The question was deli cately put.
    Luke ignored the insinuation. “It seems prudent to take steps now.”
    “Fitch was unpleasant before last evening’s incident, so it is a logical assumption that his mood isn’t going to be improved with the addition of what I have to assume is a colossal headache this morning.”
    “The doctor said between the liquor and the blow to his thick skull, he might not remember how he came to be injured.”
    “That would be best for everyone, but until we know, you should take care to protect her one way or the other.”
    “It’s hardly my responsibility.” Luke shrugged,