The Scarlet Spy Read Online Free Page B

reaching for his ebony walking stick and charcoal-gray gloves. “In the meantime, I trust you will pay close attention to all of Mrs. Merlin’s lessons.”
    Sofia had a headful of questions she wished to ask, but she kept her reply short and simple. “Yes, sir.”
    “Thank you for the excellent tea and tarts, Charlotte.” Lynsley tucked a large leather portfolio under his arm. “And for dispensing a liberal dose of wisdom to go along with them.”
     
    “Nice legs … well-defined chest … good stamina and good wind, wouldn’t you say so?”
    “A bit
too
good.” Osborne winced. “Lud, I daresay her shrieks could be heard all the way to Kew Gardens.”
    “I am talking about the
horse,
Dev.” Lord Nicolas Harkness gave a low snort. “Damn it, do try to pay attention. This is an expensive proposition.”
    “So was Collette,” he quipped. “Cost me an arm and leg to sever the relationship.”
    “You’re lucky it didn’t cost you your prick in the bargain.” Harkness chuckled as he stepped away from the stallion and propped a boot on the fence rail. “From what you said, she was looking to sever more than her services.”
    “Escaped by the skin of my … teeth.” He grinned, then winced again as the big bay let out a sharp whinny. His mouth felt dry as straw, and the cacophony of harried hooves and high-stakes haggling echoing through the yards was exacerbating the pounding in his head. Not to speak of the pungent smells. The auctions of prime horseflesh at Tattersall’s always drew a crowd of gentlemen looking to buy or sell.
    Taking a seat on a bale of hay, Osborne began massaging at his temples. “Sorry to be such dull company, Nick. Give me a moment to collect my wits and I’ll take a better look at the animal.”
    “It’s worth the wait. I trust your judgment.” Harkness lit up a cheroot. “Even when your brain is half pickled in brandy.”
    In his present mood, he wasn’t quite so sanguine as his friend. His judgment had been sadly lacking of late. The scene with his mistress was just the latest in a series of embarrassing little incidents. At Lady Haverstick’s musicale, he had been a bit too vocal in voicing the limericks he had composed about a rotund peer of the realm. The rhymes
had
been clever, and people had laughed. But he had embarrassed an acquaintance and had woken the next morning feeling ashamed of himself.
    “I’m not sure I’m in any shape to find flaws in your stallion, seeing as I’ve been acting like an ass recently.”
    Harkness cocked a brow. “Is that a black cloud hanging over little Lord Sunshine’s head?”
    Osborne swore, loud enough to startle an elderly gentleman who was examining a pair of matched carriage grays nearby. “Call me that again and you will be digging your teeth out of yon pile of horse droppings.” A number of ladies had given him the moniker on account of his fair hair and ebullient manner. He usually laughed off any teasing from other men, but at the moment it was not remotely amusing.
    “A show of temper?”
    Osborne muttered another oath.
    “Any particular reason for the foul mood?” His friend blew out a smoke ring. “Aside from losing your place in La Colette’s bed.”
    He merely shrugged, happy to encourage the idea that his malaise was on account of sex—or the impending lack of it.
    “Not that you won’t have a host of ardent admirers willing to assuage your loss. I hear Lady Pierson arrived from Yorkshire yesterday, leaving the old earl to rusticate with his horses and hounds.”
    “Luscious Lucinda?” Osborne gave a mock shudder. “I have no desire to jump from the proverbial frying pan into the fire. Her ample physical endowments are matched by a penchant for emotional excess.”
    “Lady Wellton has always appeared to have her eye on you—you lucky dog.” Harkness coughed slightly. “But then, you may already be intimately aware of her interest.”
    “If I was, I would not be so ungentlemanly as to talk about