Deverell's Obsession: A Risqué Regency Romance by Sahara Kelly Read Free Book Online Page B

the rooms were perfectly arranged to house such activities. It was less formal than many of the other, better known, gentlemen’s clubs, and Dev liked the quiet buzz of conversation that always greeted him.
    He also enjoyed the scent of cigars, the whiff of good leather and the personal welcome he always received from whichever doorman was on duty.
    “Good afternoon, Mr. Deverell, sir. Always good to see you at the Mitra.”
    Smiling, Dev let the doorman relieve him of his overcoat, which he needed in spite of the season. This was, after all, England. Rain and cold winds in the summer were part of its charm. At least that’s what the residents asserted if asked.
    “Anyone of note around, James?”
    The doorman thought for a moment. “You just missed His Grace the Earl of Leicester. And Lord Thomas Hillier enjoyed a hearty breakfast this morning. But at the moment it’s quite quiet, I’m afraid.” He shrugged. “We do have one newcomer…a Scottish gentleman. Goes by the name of McPherson.” He leaned over. “But I believe he is a little more than just a simple Mr .”
    “What gives you that idea?” Always curious, Dev had to ask.
    James tapped his nose. “I can sense these things, Mr. Deverell. Years of experience.” He paused. “Plus he was put up for membership by the Duke of Lochloden.”
    “Hmm.” Dev considered the matter. “Well in that case, you’re probably quite right. Where might I find this Scot, do you know?”
    “I believe he’s in the Shakespeare room, sir. Enjoying a brandy, I believe.”
    “Well, I think I might join him. In the room and the brandy, if you would be so good…?”
    “I’ll have one sent right along, sir.”
    “Good man.” Dev nodded his thanks and strolled off down a corridor leading to the room dedicated to one of England’s greatest playwrights. The dedication took the form of a rather imposing alabaster bust of the chap himself and about two thousand copies of Hamlet.
    Or so it seemed to Dev, who wasn’t particularly fond of the play but was always amused by the reverence it received from others.
    Walking through the open door, he was pleased to see a good fire warming the room, and several chairs placed appropriately around it, and also around the few tables gracing the space.
    There was only one man inside though, and all Dev could see was the back of his head over the top of one of the fireside chairs.
    “I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion,” said Dev politely. “But that fire looks damn cozy on a day like this one.”
    The man stood and turned…and blinked. “Good Lord. I know you.”
    “And I you.” Dev was stunned in his turn. “Charles and Hannah and that God-awful Derby mess. You were there. You were leading the forces of justice if I remember rightly.” He shook his head. “Damn. You’re a Bow Street Runner .”
    “At times, yes.” He held out his hand. “Ian McPherson. And I’m pleased to make your acquaintance again under less trying circumstances. Deverell, isn’t it?”
    “Indeed,” said Dev, shaking the hand. “Talk about coincidences.”
    “Sit. Please join me.” Ian waved a hand. “This is a lovely club, but it’s always nice to share a conversation as well.”
    Intrigued, Dev took a seat and welcomed the sight of his brandy as a servant appeared with a tray. “I took the liberty. Will you join me?”
    “Already ahead of you.” Ian gestured to the snifter beside him. “Perfect day for a good fire and a drop of brandy.”
    “Not Scotch?” Dev grinned.
    “Sometimes.” Ian grinned back. “But…when in London, do as the Londoners do. And that, dear sir, is brandy at the club.”
    “Your health.” Dev raised his glass and sipped, appreciating the warm burn of the liquor. “Ah, that’s good.”
    Ian did the same. “It is indeed.” He put his glass down. “So what brings you to the club today?”
    Dev took another sip and considered the situation. He did not want to make a fuss about his inquiries—it was early