Her Quicksilver Lover: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 6 by Lynne Connolly Read Free Book Online Page B

defensiveness. “I see. I was wondering, that was all. I work in one of the clubs in St. James’.” Rapidly, he invented his story, deviating as little as possible from the truth. “I hear things.”
    The older man’s expression relaxed. “Ah.” He glanced at the younger. Their blue eyes were the same size and shape; perhaps they were related.
    “So it’s not the young lady?”
    Amidei allowed himself to frown. “Is there a young lady involved?”
    “The owner’s daughter,” the older man said shortly. “Miss Spencer.”
    So she had not even used a false name. She might, just possibly, be working at the club because she needed the money, but he doubted it. Why in that case had she not mentioned the Argus to anyone? Lightfoot would have heard if she had. He missed nothing below stairs and precious little above it. And these men did not associate the mention of St. James with her, either. They’d have made the connection, if they knew.
    “What does Miss Spencer do?”
    The men exchanged another glance. “She helps him with the journal,” the younger man said gruffly. “So you have a story for her?”
    He nodded. “At a price.” It was a common enough practice not to arouse suspicions. He’d even caught his own servants doing it, although they had not remained in his house for long after that.
    “Care to share?”
    Ever curious, the men of the city. Amidei quirked his brow. “It wouldn’t be worth much if I did that, would it?”
    “They’ll listen,” the young man said, who knew far more about them than Amidei was comfortable with. What did this boy have to do with them? “But you have to prove what you say. They don’t print lies.”
    “Well, not complete lies,” the older man added with a grin. He tapped his pipe on the table. The maid came over with the jar of tobacco. The older man pulled a plug from it and stuffed it into the bowl, dropping a penny into the wooden box she’d brought with her. The mixture appeared fresh, but Amidei wasn’t in the least tempted. He had to force himself to drink the coffee.
    “She helps him?” he asked. “I have seen her. I thought her too—”
    “Pretty?” said the younger man with a smile that was definitely not for him.
    “Yes,” he agreed. Although with her unbecoming cap and spectacles she’d done her best to appear otherwise.
    She was a gossip-monger, someone who wanted to hear the latest gossip. Which she would be bound to do at the Pantheon.
    Was that all? He wanted to think so. Of course that meant she couldn’t work at the club any longer, but he could think of several roles she could perform instead. If she was willing, of course.
    The warmth was slowly replaced by several revelations. One, that his desire was so strong it had temporarily wiped out his anger. He wanted her. Of course he did, and the sooner he acknowledged that fact, the better he could cope with it.
    But the anger remained. That anyone would think to use his precious club that way infuriated him, brought out the anger to simmer low in his belly. More than that, anger that he should want a woman who behaved so badly. He had considered her innocent, when she’d been spying on him.
    She was not the first professional gossip to enter the doors of the Pantheon Club. He doubted she would be the last, but once he’d held her and touched her, he’d forgotten all that. His fellow gods would howl with laughter.
    “So she and her father run this journal?” He leaned back, careful not to overbalance, since the benches before this central table had no backs. “Nobody else?”
    “They’re on their uppers,” another man said succinctly. “A good thing too. I can’t abide gossip-mongers. They just make trouble.” He harrumphed. “However pretty they are. Is that all your business here, sir?”
    Amidei shook his head. “The paper only. Thank you for putting me in the way of it. I shall approach them immediately.”
    Still simmering with rage, he got to his feet and strode