Susan Carroll by Masquerade Read Free Book Online

Grandfather
and myself."
    "And you intend to make sure that it
does."
    She glared at her cousin, but he disarmed her
with a smile.
    "Admit it, Fae. You were piqued by this
meddling marquis, so you sought out the fellow and provoked him.
You've a devilish sharp tongue, enough to rouse a saint to
murder."
    "It was nothing of the kind. But I cannot
expect you to comprehend. You were not there. You didn't dance with
him."
    "Aye, and I don't suppose there's much
likelihood of his ever asking me to do so, either," was Gilly's
cheerful reply. "I think your marquis is simply too top lofty to
give an account of himself to anyone. My advice is to leave the man
alone. But I see from the mulish look on your face that you're not
about to do that."
    "No, I'm not. I do not like those who intrude
themselves in my family. Nor do I like being threatened." Phaedra
stalked over to where Gilly perched upon the desk. "Despite your
marked lack of sympathy, I am glad you happened by this
morning."
    "Happened by, is it? You had me summoned from
my bed at the crack of dawn."
    Phaedra ignored this grumbling remark.
Instead, she leaned past her cousin, indicating the sheets of
parchment stacked on the desk behind him. "I have another delivery
for you."
    Gilly glanced over his shoulder. The next
instant he leaped off the desk as though it had caught fire. His
air of nonchalance vanished, and he paled beneath his tanned
skin.
    "Mother of God! Are you daft, woman, to be
leaving this about where any dim-witted housemaid might chance upon
it!"
    Phaedra proceeded to gather up the sheets. "I
assure you, no one has been in here this morning but myself. I just
wrote it last night." She didn't add that the pages had been
scratched out here in the dismal hours before the dawn, when her
garret room was too hot and her bedchamber far too confined, far
too full of the Marquis de Varnais.
    She ran a hasty eye over some of the
paragraphs, pleased to see that at least she had been coherent at
that hour. But she drew up short at the last page.
    "Lud! I almost forgot my signature." She
reached for a quill pen, dipping it into the pot of ink. At the
bottom of the final sheet, she hastily scrawled the name, Robin
Goodfellow. The signature looked bold and masculine enough to fool
anyone, even her sharp-eyed publisher, Jessym. As she proceeded to
sprinkle sand to dry the fresh ink, Gilly peered over her
shoulder.
    "What the deuce have you been writing about
this time?"
    "Read it and see."
    While Gilly edged himself atop the desk once
more and began his perusal, Phaedra picked up a blank sheet of
parchment and fanned herself with it. The front of her
loose-fitting sacque-style gown already felt uncomfortably damp and
clinging. She stalked over to one of the narrow window casements to
see if she could force it open further.
    Sawyer Weylin's estate lay far north of
Piccadilly. The sprawling Palladian-style mansion was nestled in a
parklike setting, simulating a country gentleman's estate. But one
never quite escaped the reminders that the bustling city of London
was not far away. Phaedra crinkled her nose. Even out here, one
occasionally caught a whiff of the coal-smoke and that pungent odor
peculiar to the River Thames.
    "Sweet Jesus!"
    Gilly's exclamation drew Phaedra away from
the window. She turned around to find her cousin gripping her
manuscript, looking far from pleased.
    "My essay doesn't meet with your approval?"
she asked.
    "The parts about the navy's ships being
filled with dry rot, and the bit about the king and parliament
being negligent are excellent." Gilly raked one hand back through
his dark hair, further disordering his unruly curls. "But these
passages about the Marquis de Varnais! It sounds as though you are
implying he could be anything from a low-born impostor to a French
spy."
    "I only hinted at a few reasons why he might
be so prickly about his background."
    "This borders on libel, Phaedra, and well you
know it! Jessym will never print it."
    "Jessym prints