Someone to Watch Over Me by Lisa Kleypas Read Free Book Online Page A

favorite. “Where is Cannon?” Grant asked, his green eyes sparkling, and Mrs. Dobson indicated the magistrate’s office.
    The property at number 4 Bow Street contained a house, a tiny yard, offices, a court, and a strong room to hold prisoners.
    Having been born to a family of means, Cannon could have lived an indolent life in a far more luxurious place than this…but that was not his nature. He had a passion for justice, and with all that needed to be done, there was no time for laziness or frivolity.
    To Cannon, life was serious business, and he lived it accordingly. Rumor had it that his young wife on her deathbed had made him promise never to remarry, and Cannon had been faithful to his word. His tremendous energy was expended on his work. Even the closest and dearest of his friends would readily swear that nothing could break the iron control Cannon held over his own secretive heart.
    Striding down the narrow hallway that led to Cannon’s private office, Grant nearly collided with two Runners who were leaving…Flagstad and Keyes, the two oldest Runners, both of them fast approaching forty. “Off to guard the royal hind-quarters again,” Keyes remarked cheerfully, while Flagstad revealed that he had been given the more lucrative assignment of attending the Bank of England, as quarterly dividends were being paid.
    “And what are you about this morning?” Flagstad asked Grant. His weathered face creased with good humor. “No, don’t tell me…another bank robbery, or a burglary on the west side that you’ll charge a fortune to solve.”
    Grant responded with an answering grin, having endured much ribbing from his colleagues on his hefty commissions. He forbore to point out that in the last year he had literally caught more thieves than the other five Runners put together. “I only take what they’re willing to pay,” he said mildly.
    “The only reason the nobs demand your services is because you’re a bloody swell,” Keyes said with a chuckle. “Just the other day a lady said to me, ‘Of all the Runners, only Mr. Morgan looks the wayone ought to look.’” He snorted at the statement. “As if a man’s appearance has a damned thing to do with how he does the job!”
    “ I’m a swell?” Grant asked incredulously, glancing at his own conservative attire, and then at Keyes’s dandified appearance…the carefully arranged “windswept” style of his hair, the gold pin in his elaborate cravat, the tiny silk flowers and fleurs-de-lis embroidered over his waistcoat. Not to mention the wide-brimmed, cream-colored hat worn carefully angled over one eye.
    “I have to dress this way at court,” Keyes said defensively.
    Chuckling, Flagstad began to guide Keyes away before an argument could brew.
    “Wait,” Keyes said, an urgent note of interest entering his voice. “Morgan, I heard you were sent out last night to investigate a bloat found in the river.”
    “Yes.”
    Keyes seemed impatient at his terseness. “Talkative as a clam, aren’t you? Well, what can you tell us about it? Was the victim male or female?”
    “What does it matter to you?” Grant asked, perplexed by the Runner’s interest in the matter.
    “Are you going to take the case?” Keyes persisted.
    “Probably.”
    “I’ll take it for you if you like,” Keyes offered. “God knows you haven’t much interest in investigating a dead woman. I hear bloats aren’t paying much these days.”
    Flagstad snickered at the lame jest.
    Grant stared at Keyes with new alertness. “Why do you think it’s a woman?” he asked idly.
    Keyes blinked, and took a moment to answer. “Merely a guess, lad. Am I right?”
    Giving him a last questioning glance, Grant refused comment and entered Cannon’s office.
    Sir Ross sat with his back to the door, at a massive oak pedestal desk arranged to face the long rectangular window overlooking the street. A massive brown-and-gray-striped cat occupied a corner of the desk, glancing lazily at the newcomer.