Seducing the Rake (Mad, Bad and Dangerous Heroes) by Christina Skye Read Free Book Online Page A

little time to accomplish our mission. The diplomat Amherst has just returned to England, having failed in his attempts to present our position on trade to the emperor. A high official at the palace has indicated that the emperor will look upon us more favorably after presentation of the pillow book, and they have given us three months to restore it to the emperor. But only three months.”
    Wellington spun the globe beside the window and studied the vast blue oval marked China. “We must try. One way or another, we will have open trade with China, and I hope it comes about peaceably.”
    His finger rose, sweeping inland to the imperial capital at Peking. “How close are you to tracking the book down? And how will you be able to recognize it when you find it?” Wellington fingered the globe. “I gather His August Celestial Majesty in Peking wouldn’t be pleased if we tried to palm a forgery off on him.”
    Morland laughed. “Not likely. I expect he’d execute the poor bastard who brought him less than the real thing.”
    Wellington sighed. “Damned complicated. Once in India I watched a rajah order a whole village to—” He seemed about to launch into a tale but caught himself with a sniff. “But that is neither here nor there. I need an answer, Morland. Can you carry it off?”
    Morland nodded. “I can. I’m going to have help, you see.”
    “Help from whom?” Wellington’s black brow rose. “I can think of only one person who might help you, and that’s James Cameron. He and his daughter are back in London, I’ve heard, but no one’s seen hide nor hair of either of them. Cameron saved my life once in India, did you know?” The duke’s eyes wandered over the globe, crossing the rugged expanse of the Himalayas and sweeping down through the dusty northwest passes to Delhi. “Five dacoits fell upon us one night as we slept. It was chaos. Then that great Scot swept out of the forest, dark as a heathen himself, beard and moustache bristling and a scimitar clenched between his teeth. I was more afraid of him than any of those damned dacoits, I can tell you! After he dispatched the bandits, he sat down and demanded to be given a bottle of our best whiskey. “I don’t mind telling you that I gave it to him—and two more besides—without the slightest protest.”
    Morland gave a low chuckle. “As damnable a knave as ever lived. Aye, that’s James Cameron.” His smile faded. “But Chessy—er, Miss Cameron—is she in London too?”
    “Living near Holborn. Twenty-seven Dorrington Street. Not a good area, I don’t scruple to tell you. I’ve been around to call several times, but Cameron was not at home. His daughter has a damned good head on her shoulders. Quite lovely too.” Wellington frowned at Morland. “Don’t tell me you mean to drag her into this.”
    “Why not? She can verify the book for us without the slightest difficulty.”
    Wellington’s forehead knit. “Not at all the thing, my boy. It’s a pillow book, damn it. Nothing for a well-bred gentlewoman to look at. Most likely she’d be driven to a crippling attack of the vapors.”
    “Not the Chessy I knew,” Morland said softly. But his eyes darkened with a hint of uncertainty.
    Ten years was a very long time, after all.

PART TWO
     
    West of Morning
     
     
     

CHAPTER FIVE
     

     
    27 Dorrington Street
     
    Lord Morland read the number twice, frowning at the unprepossessing row of townhouses with their shabby, untended railings. Not in James Cameron’s usual style, that was for certain. The flamboyant adventurer and antiquarian would more likely have been found in Mayfair or St. James, in a rented house complete with first-class staff.
    But here ? On the edge of Holborn?
    Never, Morland thought as he pushed open a creaky iron gate and climbed the unpolished marble steps.
    Not the James Cameron he used to know.
    But times changed. He certainly had. Those idyllic months he’d spent in Macao and the outer islands belonged to