Lady Doctor Wyre by Joely Sue Burkhart Read Free Book Online Page B

his lip. For a colony so determined to break free of Britannia’s tyranny, they had certainly casted themselves wholeheartedly into the role of the hated aristocracy. Not that Sig had anything directly against the blueblood of Britannia; how could he when his own parents had both been of powerful Houses? Even Lady Wyre carried herself with the same lofty pride and haughty airs that should have repelled him, but with her, he knew she possessed a lightning quick mind beneath the flimsy layers of artifice. She didn’t expect people to fall down and kiss her feet simply because she was the Duchess of Wyre.
    No, Sig would kiss her feet for entirely different reasons, as he slipped her favorite stockings up her calves.
    These York ladies were nothing but artifice and sneering gaiety, exactly like his exalted lady mother. Granted, she’d been a crazy bitch, but that same manic, desperate light burned in these women’s eyes. Any sign of weakness from one of them would have the others descending upon the hapless one with vicious single-minded joy.
    Chest tight, he ducked into a side alley and leaned back against the brick wall, heedless of the stains that might streak his greatcoat. His heart was fine, he knew; no, this was an old and most despised panic. The helpless fear of a child.
    So many times, he’d looked upon his mother and burned to do something, anything, to stop her. He’d thrown himself in front of her path to keep others safe, but then she’d simply beaten him, too and worsened her rage upon the one he’d tried to protect, usually his father. Raised to honor and respect any lady, he knew no recourse. No one cared if she beat his father. What happened behind their fine townhouse’s closed door made no difference to her social standing. As long as his mother upheld her social duties outside the home, he and his father had no protection from her rages.
    Absently, he rubbed his knuckles against his breastbone, trying to ease the muscle spasms which made it difficult to breathe. I am not a helpless child any longer. I am more than capable and willing to kill anyone who threatens those I love, and this time, no one shall die to protect me. No one.
    Except perhaps him. Sig watched a familiar tall figure with dark hair and shabby coat fit for the stable step out of a shop with a deep flush on his angular cheekbones. He whirled and strode down the street as though he were extremely late. What the bloody hell is her sheriff doing here?
    Curious, Sig followed him, keeping to the shadowed storefronts and alleys as much as possible. Masters kept up the rapid pace, making it easy to trail him to the docks. Sleek cruisers from Francia fast enough to slip past the blockade chugged in and out of port, which must gall Queen Majel to no end. Every crate that came directly to Americus was coinage stolen straight from her pocket.
    Again, Sig had to wonder why she stayed her hand against the rebellious colony, and came back to the only conclusion possible. She had to have solid evidence that Charlie hid on Americus, and so couldn’t risk damaging her in any way.
    Not until she’s dragged back to Londonium.
    When the sheriff continued to a less reputable section of the wharf, Sig’s internal alarms blared louder. Now pausing to look behind him warily, Masters spoke to a man even more ill-clad, their eyes furtive, voices low, but not too low for Lord Regret’s enhanced senses to catch the gist of their conversation.
    Time to approach Lady Wyre.
    Cold burned in Sig’s veins at the sound of her name. No one on Americus knew Charlotte was the Duchess of Wyre. She’d deliberately chosen a new surname that had no ties to any of the Great Houses of Britannia.
    Traitor.
    The man she loved, who would prevent her from sailing to safety and a life of ease with Lord Regret, had betrayed her.
    The first knife sank into the scruffy man’s throat. Blood bloomed and Masters crouched, his hand sliding to his gun. “Don’t do it,