Lord and Lady Spy by Shana Galen Read Free Book Online Page B

Liverpool.”
    Adrian almost snorted. “The prime minister? Here in the East End?”
    She nodded. “Doubt me if you want, but hurry. The prime minister is waiting.”
    To humor her, he turned and climbed the remaining steps. The prime minister. He didn’t believe for a moment Lord Liverpool was standing about in a ramshackle building in London’s East—
    He stepped onto the landing, and the man with the lantern turned to face him.
    “Lord Liverpool,” Adrian said, belatedly executing a stiff bow. “My apologies for making you wait, my lord.”
    “Do not allow it to happen again. Lady Smythe.” Liverpool came forward to take her hand and sweep her past Adrian. She smiled up at the prime minister, and for the first time in his married life, Adrian felt a surge of jealousy.
    He hadn’t known Sophia and Liverpool were acquaintances. And now he wondered what else she’d kept hidden.
    Her looks, for one.
    This new Sophia was a beauty. The hasty vision of her from below was now made clearer as she stepped into the glow of the prime minister’s lantern. He remembered her looking beautiful before, but after months and months of seeing only her drab dress and mousy appearance, he’d almost forgotten how fetching she truly was. Adrian couldn’t believe taking her hair down and removing her spectacles could enact such a change. But as she gazed into the prime minister’s face, a mixture of anticipation and mischief in her eyes, Adrian saw the true alteration.
    She held herself straight. She looked poised and confident. Bloody radiant. There was nothing mousy or shy or sweet about this woman. She swept past him with languid predatory moves, right past him and… practically into Liverpool’s arms.
    Adrian reached out and deftly plucked her back again. This confident, sensual woman was not the wife he knew. And, as if to prove it, she didn’t submit to his touch.
    “My lord!” She shook his hand off her waist and spun to scowl at him. “I beg your pardon.”
    Adrian glowered. “Oh, I’m supposed to stand here idly while you flirt and simper?”
    “Flirt and—for your information—”
    “Oh, God forbid, you’re starting again.” Liverpool shook his head and turned, holding the lantern high enough to reveal three surprisingly sturdy chairs in the corner of the dilapidated room.
    Immediately, Adrian’s gaze fixed on a man dressed in black and standing in the shadows. Undoubtedly, he was Liverpool’s assistant and had brought the chairs.
    “Just now seeing him, are you?” Sophia said, with a hint of smugness in her voice. “Not very observant, but then that shouldn’t surprise me.” She moved to join Liverpool at the chairs. “You spend all your time at that club of yours.”
    “About as much time as you spend at your charitable societies, I imagine,” he drawled, and her eyes widened with the realization that he spent no more time at his club than she did at her charities. They were liars—both of them. He gave her a tight smile and moved to stand before the open chair.
    Liverpool lifted his tails and took a seat, motioning for Adrian and Sophia to follow. “If you two are through arguing?”
    “My apologies, your lordship,” Adrian said, watching Sophia remove her mantle. “This has been something of a sh…”
    He was aware his voice had trailed off and that his mouth was hanging open, but he was simply too stunned to do anything but stare. What the bloody hell was his wife wearing? And why hadn’t she ever worn anything like that for him?
    The low-cut red silk clung to her every curve, and what it didn’t cling to, it molded and revealed—the arch of her neck, the slope of her shoulders, the swell of her breasts, and the flare of her hips. Realistically, Adrian knew her gown was no more revealing than those other women of the ton wore. Indeed, it was a good bit less revealing than what most wore. And yet, he’d never seen her dress in anything other than ill-fitting, high-necked dowdy