A Most Improper Rumor by Emma Wildes Read Free Book Online Page B

well.
    “Tell me you aren’t entered in the race about to start,” he said by way of greeting. “Not with that black colt you outbid me for.”
    Lord Andrews grinned. “I’m afraid so. We can watch it together if you’d like. I’ll have a bottle of brandy delivered.”
    It would be churlish to refuse, and besides, he rather wanted to talk to the viscount. “Agreed.”
    Moments later, with a hovering attendant dismissed because neither of them really had much pretension and Ben was certainly capable of pouring his own drink, he said in a conversational tone, “I think maybe you might be interested in a little story I have to tell.”
    Relaxed in his chair, Andrews lifted his brows, tearing his gaze momentarily from the track where the jockeys were taking the horses around for a warm-up lap at a walk. Some of the magnificent animals were restless against the bit and rein, and some were placid and seemingly oblivious to the crowd. “May I ask what kind of story? It had better be damned fascinating, because as we have ascertained, I have a horse in this race and so do you.”
    “I think you’ll find it riveting enough since it involves the same person who had you kidnapped.”
    That whipped the viscount’s head around, as he’d thought it would. “The bastard has struck again?”
    “I think more like struck before,” Ben said musingly, fingering his glass of brandy. The horses were lining up now at the gate and that always took some time.
    “You said it was pointless to pursue it once Elena and I had been freed.”
    “Not quite,” Ben disagreed pleasantly. “I said it was pointless for
me
to pursue it because it all had resolved nicely, but I think I have changed my mind.”
    It was true. He’d discovered who was overtly responsible for the scandal involving Lady Elena and the viscount, but he hadn’t revealed the name to Andrews, and he had his reasons. That acknowledged, what he hadn’t managed to find out was who had organized the actual abduction itself.
    A very clever individual, someone cunning, and without moral conscience, that was all he knew. Willing to ruin a young lady without remorse, his methods extreme and calculated.
    Lady DeBrooke’s story had truly caught his attention because of the similarities, and he was rather . . . intrigued. Unfortunately, so was Alicia, but luckily he thought they’d settled all of that this afternoon.
    “I don’t suppose you are going to tell me why.” Andrews picked up his brandy snifter and tossed back a good measure. “You tend to do this, you know. Dangle out small clues that seem innocuous enough until one really thinks about it. It’s a gift, Heathton, and I am glad I don’t have it. Can you give me at least a hint over this turnabout?”
    The race had started, but Andrews didn’t seem to even notice the retort of the gun. Sprawled in his chair, his signature dark hair rumpled—after all he didn’t have the nickname the Raven for no reason—he was the epitome of male elegance and yet not foppish in the least. It might have been the gleam of purpose in his eyes.
    It wouldn’t hurt to ask. “Do you know anyone who might be scholarly enough to understand a rare form of ancient Chinese?”
    “Do I . . .
what?
Why ever would I?”
    “It is a legitimate question. Think about it and answer.”
    Lord Andrews paused then, as the horses thundered by the first curve, and then shook his head. “Honestly, even including the dons at Cambridge during the time I was there having foreign languages forced down my throat, I can’t imagine anyone who might be remotely interested in that topic is of my acquaintance. Why?”
    “Whoever had you and Elena abducted signs his name with a symbol that is archaic and obscure. I didn’t think whoever it might be was a personal acquaintance of yours, but it never hurts to turn over every stone.”
    The man across the table didn’t say anything for a moment but finally watched the race with an abstract gaze.