Sweetest Little Sin by Christine Wells Read Free Book Online

compendium that held his maps and drew out the relevant one. “Show me where the cottage is.”
    When they’d pinpointed the place and Ives had left, Jardine saw that Nick was watching him with an added gleam in those impossibly brilliant blue eyes. “Keeping an eye on our esteemed head of operations?”
    Jardine grunted. “He’s been stirring up discontent in rural areas, flushing out those who disagree with the status quo, then throwing them in prison for sedition. When someone in his position becomes more concerned with the longevity of the incumbent government than individual liberty, it’s time to take action.”
    Jardine paused. “On that other matter . . . What do we know about Radleigh?”
    Lord Nicholas Morrow handed him a slender file. “Not nearly enough. The man doesn’t seem to have existed two years ago.”
    Jardine’s eyebrows snapped together. He snatched the file and glanced through it, mastering its contents with the speed born of practice. He’d been in many tight corners that required him to commit a large amount of information to memory before running for his life.
    Jardine glanced at his companion. “Your report is concise, yet admirably thorough. Learned that in the army, did you?”
    Nick smiled slightly, his gaze clear and tranquil, giving nothing away. There was more to Nick than the reckless ex-cavalry charmer who drove the ladies wild. Jardine sensed the darkness in him—well, only a dullard or an automaton could have failed to be affected by the carnage at Waterloo—but there was some personal trouble there, Jardine was sure.
    Jardine had long been friends with Nick’s brother, the Marquis of Vane, but lately he’d taken an interest in the younger man, keen to harness both the darkness he sensed and Nick’s undoubted skills.
    Nick wasn’t one of Faulkner’s creatures. He had a private income and energy to burn and no loyalty to anyone. Jardine trusted him, as far as he trusted anyone.
    He tossed the report aside and leaned back in his chair. “What do you think of Radleigh? Is he our man?”
    “Difficult to say. There are faint glimmers of a connection. Certainly, Radleigh has information for sale and he’s put it up to the highest bidder.”
    Jardine gestured to the report. “This is all facts, figures, names, dates. What’s your opinion of him, personally?”
    Nick took a while to answer. “On the face of it, I’d say he’s a mushroom. A wealthy man with social aspirations. He’s clever and he wants the best, won’t be satisfied with anything less than true acceptance in the ton. And he’s smart enough that he’s spreading his influence in all directions, not relying on any one sponsor too heavily.”
    “Astute of him,” agreed Jardine, tapping his chin with one finger. “So if he’s a mushroom, where did he spring from?”
    Nick gestured to the report. “According to the story Radleigh’s circulating, he’s recently returned from Africa, but it could just as well be India or the Americas, for all the evidence I can find of him. He puts it about that his fortune derives from shipping—I’d say smuggling, more like, but I can’t prove it yet.”
    Nick rubbed his eyelid with his middle finger and continued. “Bought that ghastly place in Derbyshire Lawrence altered to look like a Mogul palace. Thinks himself a canny one because he snaffled it for a song.” Nick crossed his legs. “Well, everyone knows the expense of construction quite rolled up poor Lawrence. They say Radleigh has come home to settle down. He’s looking for a wife.”
    Another chink in the armor. This, Jardine could use. “A wife? Set his sights on anyone in particular?”
    Here, there was a pause.
    Jardine’s gaze sharpened. “Well?”
    Then Nick’s intensely blue eyes met his. “Lady Louisa Brooke.”
    Stunned, Jardine didn’t speak for many moments. Then he recovered himself and snorted. “She wouldn’t let him within ten feet of her. She’s far too high in the instep to take