Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage] by What to Wear to a Seduction Read Free Book Online Page A

well know it.”
    Silence stretched long between them, as each man took the other’s measure.
    Wheaton broke first. As he sipped his port, his eyes skated away. “Well, if your memory is so good, perhaps you’d recall the man you placed in Gérardin Valmont’s service.”
    “I didn’t place him. Hendricks did. And his name was…” Scratching his head, Sir Lee stared up at the carved ceiling. “Quinn or Quick, no, it was Quince. Yes, Quince.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “Of course, I’m certain. Alexander Quince.”
    “Have you ever met him?”
    Sir Lee frowned, irritated that Wheaton felt the need to ask questions he already knew the answer to. “You know very well that I did.”
    “But he didn’t know who you were or even that you were assessing him at that meeting?”
    “Of course not. Standard procedure. Stop all the shim shamming and tell me what this is all about.”
    Wheaton lifted a shoulder in a faint shrug. “Well, I suppose given that this mess was started under your watch, you might be able to scratch up something of use to me.”
    Sir Lee suddenly wondered how Wheaton’s callous manner was taken by his underlings. Intelligence officers were a hard-hearted lot for the most part, yet they had to be handled deftly. They lived excruciatingly complicated lives in service to King and Country and a good master spy needed to respect each and every agent’s particular sensitivities. How did Wheaton fare in that regard?
    Sir Lee forced himself to dismiss the critical thought, realizing that he was probably just being envious. He’d give his right arm for a chance to change places with the man sitting across from him.
    “I’d heard Gérardin Valmont was dead. His heart gave out in a Paris bordello.”
    Wheaton’s blue eyes twinkled. “I knew you still keptyour oar in the water.”
    “I’m old, Wheaton, not dead.” Glancing about the room Sir Lee lowered his voice. “So why the sudden interest in Quince, an intelligence officer who’s hardly been worth his salt these last few years?”
    Wheaton sipped his port, stringing him along.
    Sir Lee sighed. “You know if you ever want my help you’re welcome to it, Wheaton.” He knew that his former pupil was always loath to ask for a favor. “It doesn’t mean you will owe me anything.” He smiled. “Well, not necessarily.”
    “Gérardin Valmont was the king of secrets. Hell, his forte for holding nasty tidbits over the heads of those in influence was the only thing that kept the firebrand in England for as long as it did.”
    “Nothing could save him after he published that idiotic pamphlet mocking the King, though,” Sir Lee shook his head. “I don’t know what the fool was thinking.”
    “Who knows, and at this point who cares? It was one less problem to deal with, was what you’d said at the time. Now that problem seems to be making a nuisance of itself once more, but in the form of our very own Alexander Quince.”
    “What’d he do?”
    “A certain man of influence who assists me now and again suddenly took off for the country and refused my messages requesting his return. When I went to see him, a bloody two days’ ride in the middle of nowhere, I was shocked to find him a complete wreck. After much coaxing, he finally confessed that he was hiding out in the country, hoping that his troubles might not chase him down. Those troubles, it seems, are in the form of a blackmailer. One with some very nasty secrets he’s ready to exploit.”
    “You suspect Quince is picking up where his former employer left off?”
    “Yes. Valmont is dead and suddenly a few of the older set in Society are fielding blackmail demands.”
    “A few?”
    “I know of at least one more and suspect there are others. These blackmailing buggers dig until they find as many worms as possible and make them squirm. Until the field dries up, of course, or someone stops them.”
    “So arrange a payment and nab him. There’s not much to it.”
    “Actually, it’s not