Clandestine by Julia Ross Read Free Book Online Page B

She tried to study each man as he passed, though she had no idea what to look for. Could guilt be betrayed by posture or gait? Even without the masks, she might see the villain and not know it.
    â€œThere’s quite a jungle a little farther through here, Mrs. Callaway,” a male voice whispered in her ear. “Would you like to explore it?”
    Sarah whirled around. A tall man in a crimson mask and silk turban had silently walked up to stand beside her. His Oriental robes were flamboyantly embroidered with dragons.
    Uncertainty fractured her perception for a moment, as if she were thrust suddenly into a fantasy. Her heart had leaped in a shock of recognition at his expressive mouth and the hint of perfect profile, yet the gilt-brown gaze was most definitely not Mr. Devoran’s.
    This man’s eyes were filled with a similar humor and bright intelligence, yet she thought that grim determination—even something of anger—also lurked just beneath the surface.
    Sarah smiled with blind courage. “Do I know you, sir?”
    â€œLord Jonathan Devoran St. George, at your service, ma’am.” He bowed his head. “Guy asked me to take care of you, should Ryder be otherwise occupied. Come! You’ll like this.”
    Ah! Lord Ryderbourne’s younger brother, Wild Lord Jack, who had recently returned to England from India. Mr. Devoran must have told him, too, about the sheep. Yet Lord Jonathan enjoyed an oddly terrifying reputation in the popular accounts of his adventures in the East.
    Sarah dismissed her stab of apprehension and took his proffered arm.
    They ducked together beneath the palm fronds and through a concealed doorway. Trees and vines clustered, some trailing long sprays of blossom, their roots bound in enormous clay pots. The floor disappeared beneath a thick layer of tanbark. Far above their heads, night scattered dark reflections between the stone ribs of a glasshouse.
    The music faded as her escort led Sarah ever deeper into the rustling jade silence.
    They stepped out into a small open space, dimly lit by a scattering of paper lanterns. A moist eddy carried earthy, flowery scents, with a strange undercurrent of danger, like air stirred by dragon’s wings.
    Lord Jonathan released her arm, stepped away, and slipped off his crimson mask.
    â€œWell, Mrs. Callaway,” he said. “How do you like our little domestic jungle?”
    Her heart beat hard. Orchids she had never seen before nestled among the other plants.
    â€œIt’s amazing,” she said. “Yet I wonder if a real jungle is anything like this.”
    â€œNo, it’s not.” His eyes studied her as if he would peel away her skin. “This fantasy is missing the darker scents, the secrets—and the tigers, of course. The real jungle is neither so pretty, nor so tame.”
    Prickles danced down her spine as she looked back at him. “It doesn’t feel particularly tame to me. It feels quite real, though the water must be piped in from somewhere.”
    He laughed, though he still seemed on edge. “What a very practical mind you have, Mrs. Callaway! You must be a bluestocking.”
    A sudden splashing started somewhere nearby, as if someone had just turned on a fountain. Sarah’s unsteady pulse skipped a beat.
    â€œWe’re not alone here, my lord,” she said quietly.
    â€œNo, but you’re quite safe with me, Mrs. Callaway.”
    Lord Jonathan took her arm again to lead her deeper into the trees. The splash of falling water grew louder.
    â€œSo what did you think of Miracle?”
    â€œMiracle?”
    â€œLady Ryderbourne. Nell Gwyn. Ryder’s wife. Miracle is her given name.”
    â€œI think it’s impossible to resist her.”
    â€œAh! Though fortunately I did. She was sixteen when we first met, but she was magical even then.”
    â€œThen you and Mr. Devoran met her at about the same time?”
    â€œYes, but that was a long time