A Most Dangerous Profession by Karen Hawkins Read Free Book Online

weak-kneed, poufy-shirted fool. That ruse has helped me on more than one occasion.”
    “I ne’er thought o’ tha’.”
    “Which is why I will ask you to do less thinking and more doing.” Robert waved a hand toward the door. “Off with you, Stewart. And tell Leeds to keep a sharp eye on Mrs. Randolph. She has been known to disappear from locked rooms.”
    “Och, sir, have no fear. Leeds is as good at watchin’ as I am.” Stewart gave a smart bow and left the study.
    Robert regarded the closed door for a long time before he rose and went to his desk. There, he sat and, using a key hidden under an inkwell, unlocked a drawer and pulled out a leather folio holding a thick stack of papers. The dispatches told the exactlocations of Miss Moira MacAllister, as well as whom she spoke to, for how long, and—where they could—what about.
    The first report was from two months before Robert had met her years ago. The last one had been added late last night.
    Robert closed the folio and sat back in his chair. He’d never worked so hard to keep up with anyone in his life—not for personal, nor professional reasons.
    Yet despite the many papers in the thick folio, he knew a lot of information was missing. “You’re hiding something, Moira MacAllister, I could feel it in your voice. Whatever it is, I’ll find out.”
    Leeds was already retired for the night, but at Stewart’s slight prod, the ex-soldier was wideawake in an instant. He donned his street clothes and pulled a cap low over his broad face, then they rode to the inn.
    The George was one of the best inns in Edinburgh, with over eighteen guest rooms furnished with the best of everything.
    Leeds looked about the inn yard, visually marking doors and windows. “ ’Tis a big hotel. Wish’t it were a mite smaller. Who is this miss we’re watchin’?”
    “A Miss Moira MacAllister, though she’s goin’ by the name o’ Mrs. Randolph. She tol’ the innkeeper she was waitin’ on her husband to join her.”
    Leeds scratched his chin. “No husband?”
    “Nary a one as far as I can see. I think she pretends she’s married to keep men away.”
    “Lor’, the people the master consorts with. I think his work fer the Home Office is more than he lets on. Don’t ye think so, Stewart?”
    “The master dinna pay either o’ us t’ think,” Stewart said sourly. “He pays us to
do
.”
    “A bit out o’ sorts, are ye?”
    “Aye, the master was a bit harsh this evening. He was sure I was fallin’ under the spell of—”
    Stewart broke off as a woman passed before a downstairs window. The George had a private general room for the fairer sex, where they could take tea or meet together. “That was her; she’s in the lower sitting room.”
    The woman passed the window again, pausing this time to lift the sash and look outside, presumably at the threatening weather. Her dark hair was piled upon her head, contrasting with the creamy whiteness of her skin. The light from a lantern lit her face and showed that her eyes were delicately slanted, her eyebrows tilted to an exotic angle, hernose straight and patrician. But it was her mouth that caught a man’s attention. Something about the curve of her full lips suggested sensual pleasures best not spoken aloud.
    “Gor’,” Leeds choked out.
    Stewart nodded.
    “Sweet gor’.” Leeds breathed again.
    Stewart punched Leeds in the shoulder.
    “Ow!” Leeds rubbed his arm, looking offended. “What was tha’ fer?”
    “Tha’ was to remind ye to keep yerself professional at all times. Mr. Hurst says she’s a seductress, and if she can get ye under her spell—” He scowled. “I think she might be a witch. So watch ye’self and dinna get cocky, or ye’ll come to a great fall.”
    Leeds’s eyes had widened and he sent an almost fearful glance at the now empty window. “How do I protect meself from a witch?”
    “Dinna let her gaze fall upon ye. But if it do, make certain she dinna think ye’re payin’ her any