While You Were Spying (Regency Spies Book 0) by Shana Galen Read Free Book Online

fit his reputation.
    Francesca had been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she’d paid little attention to her destination, but now she realized she’d reached the charming clearing where she often came to be alone, think, or reflect.
    Reflect on the fact that the Marquess of Winterbourne was not a nice man. Nor one to be trifled with. She should pray she’d never have to see him again, release the sliver of hope lodged stubbornly in the back of her mind that one day he’d come to her, declare his love, and sweep her into his arms.
    Oh, she was such a fool! She plopped down under the shade of a large oak tree. The morning dew lingered on the shadowed grass, wetting her skirt through the thick folds of her mantle.
    She felt a part of this place, had always felt a connection to the natural world. The air here had a mystical, spiritual feeling, and it seemed to her that angels whispered in the rustle of trees. But today she felt uneasy, as though something or someone watched her. She glanced behind her, saw nothing but the swaying tree branches and rustling leaves. With a small shudder, she clasped her hands.

Five
    E than galloped across the rolling fields, heading for Skerrit’s farm. Rain didn’t pound down on him for the first time in several days, but that was the only bright spot in his dreary day. After speaking with the magistrate the night before, it was clear the man knew nothing of Skerrit’s involvement with the smugglers. But Ethan was increasingly convinced the farmer’s murder was linked to his role in the smuggling ring—a role Ethan would now have even more difficulty verifying.
    Ethan flicked the reins with frustration. He was tired and annoyed, a lethal combination, and Skerrit’s murder was another in a long list of annoyances. What should have been a simple investigation was turning into a maze of complications.
    First the girl. Now the murder.
    What next?
    He passed the fork in the road that signaled the turn-off and noticed fresh wagon tracks in the ground. Easing Destrehan to a stop, Ethan dismounted.
    The wheel ruts hadn’t been there yesterday. The grooves disappeared through a clump of trees a few yards away, but beyond that, foliage obscured his vision.
    Probably nothing. Local farmers taking their crops to town.
    Then why did the tracks come from Skerrit’s farm?
    Hobbling Destrehan out of view, Ethan followed them.
    Once through the trees, he emerged in a flat meadow with a trickle of water running through it. The clearing looked empty, no sign of horses or carts, but Ethan studied it with a practiced eye. The place would make an ideal campsite.
    As the pieces of the puzzle snapped into place, a rush rippled through him. This spot was close enough to Skerrit’s property that men transporting goods from the farm could camp here for the night. That meant that not only was Skerrit involved in smuggling weapons from Portsmouth or Southampton to France, he’d been hiding them as well. Last night Skerrit received payment for his services, though probably not as he’d anticipated.
    Perhaps he’d cheated one of the smugglers or learned something he wasn’t supposed to. Clearly, whoever the murderers were, they weren’t professionals. They’d taken no pains to hide the body. Was the death a warning to someone else, or were the killers just lazy?
    Or was there another reason altogether? Perhaps it was a distraction to draw attention away from the smuggling ring as they transported the arms shipment?
    A sound caught Ethan’s attention, halting his thoughts. His gaze darted to a large oak several feet away, and a flicker of red in the breeze.
    A hair tie.
    The red satin streamer hung loosely down a woman’s black mantle, her waist-length locks swirling around it. She knelt under a large tree, head lowered, showing no sign of having heard his approach. Her hair reminded him of thick, long curls of chocolate-colored ribbon. Recognizing those glossy curls, he felt his gut tighten with