Eloquence and Espionage by Regina Scott Read Free Book Online Page B

have been dressed as a
Roman centurion that night. You were the most logical.”
    He shook his head, in admiration, she hoped.
“Well done. Then you must realize why I keep my pastime a
secret.”
    “Of course. Think of the scandal should it
become known that the heir to the Marquess of Winthrop was a
spy.”
    He took a step closer. “Rather say
intelligence agent, and do not say it overly loud. The walls have
ears.”
    “Apparently so,” she said, glancing to where
he had been hiding. She swallowed. “How much did you hear?”
    “All of it, I fear. I was on my way to join
you when Mr. Cunningham slipped through the doors first. You didn’t
seem to notice me behind him.”
    He sounded disappointed. Was it because of
her lack of skill or her response to the other man?
    “I thought he was you,” she explained.
    “That much became evident quickly. But I was
also under the impression that you wanted him to be me.”
    Could he see her cheeks reddening? She
turned to gaze out into the gardens below just in case. “Don’t be
silly. That would be rude.”
    He touched the bare skin at her shoulder
with his gloved hand, sending a shiver through her. “Don’t you
think we have enough secrets between us?”
    She refused to look at him. “Oh, very well.
Yes, I thought Mr. Cunningham a fine fellow, but it’s clear he’s as
shallow and callow as most of the young men in London. Is that what
you want to hear?”
    He turned her to face him. “No. I want to
hear why you’ve been so intent on discovering the identity of a
centurion you happened upon at Lord Rottenford’s masquerade.”
    He was determined to winkle out her last
secret. But she had some winkling of her own to do.
    “And I want to know why you decided to
become an intelligence agent and who exactly you’re helping,” she
countered. “Perhaps you’d agree to trade information.”
    With his back to the moon, she could not be
sure of his face. “I regret that I am not at liberty to confide my
purpose. The security of the Empire and all that, you
understand.”
    “Then I regret that I cannot divulge my
motives,” Ariadne replied. “The sanctity of my person and all that,
you understand.”
    He leaned closer. “You forget. I am skilled
in all manner of persuasion.”
    He was so close she could feel the warmth of
him through the satin of her gown. “And you forget,” she murmured.
“I am proof against your seduction.”
    “Pity,” he said. Then he kissed her.
    It truly was the most amazing thing. Like
fireworks exploding in the night sky over the Vauxhall Pleasure
Gardens, like her first sip of champagne with the bubbles rising
inside her, like having penned the perfect line that she was sure
would be whispered in awe for centuries. Her hands wrapped around
his neck of their own accord, even as his hands braced her waist,
anchoring her against him.
    As if from a million miles away, she heard
her father’s shocked voice. “Ariadne?”
    Lord Hawksbury straightened. Beyond him,
frozen in the light from the open doorway, stood her father. Though
she could not see his face either, she could hear the frown in his
voice. “What is the meaning of this?”
    Lord Hawksbury released her and stepped away
until the light caught his face. Odd that she hadn’t noticed the
chill of the night until now. She was positively shivering.
    He sketched a bow. “Lord Rollings, forgive
me for not coming to you directly, but your daughter’s beauty and
wit captured my heart, and I could not wait to seek your blessing
lest some other gentleman steal her away.”
    Her father glanced at her. “Are you speaking
of Ariadne?”
    She wanted to slip between the standards of
the balustrade and escape her mortification. A shame she’d never
fit.
    “I am,” Lord Hawksbury assured him with a
glance back at her as if to prove it. “I am delighted to report
that she shares my feelings and has agreed to be my bride. With
your kind permission, of course, my