Free Surrender Becomes Her by Shirlee Busbee Page A

to use Keating and the like for information. It was surprising, he thought, what the common folk knew about the doings of the likes of Mrs. Hugh Manning. He’d been gratified to learn that she had been living quietly with her son at Manning Court in the home of her father-in-law, Lord Manning, and was well thought of and liked in the neighborhood. There had been no mention of any engagement or courting gentlemen.
    It was pure mischance that had brought Whitley to Devonshire and Isabel’s doorstep. Newly retired, and with little but his government pension to sustain him, Whitley had immediately set into motion several long-held plans to arrange a very, very comfortable retirement for himself. While in London, he’d dropped in to visit several old friends now stationed at the Horse Guards. He smiled. Renewing former associations had proved useful. Having accomplished what he wanted to in London, it was then time to turn his attention to those individuals he’d known in the past and that he thought might be vulnerable to blackmail. Since he had need of someone like Collard and wanted to put some distance between himself and London and any repercussions that might arise, he had chosen Devonshire as a likely locale for the furtherance of his schemes. That Isabel happened to live in the district was pure chance, but it made her the first of several old acquaintances in England that he planned to visit.
    Having discovered her still-unmarried state, he had an idea that marriage to a woman of fortune might not be so very disagreeable. Her son was the heir to a barony and the current holder of the title was elderly, Manning Court was a handsome house; he was confident that he could live quite comfortably there. Marriage to Isabel would have banished the disagreeable necessity of buying and setting up his own place, and it was unlikely, even with his various schemes to increase his ready cash, that he could afford a country estate like Manning Court. And even if he could afford to purchase such a grand place, the upkeep would have proven ruinous. Besides, why spend his own money when he could spend someone else’s?
    Sherbrook’s advent on the scene certainly put paid to any notion of marrying Isabel and helping himself to her fortune. Sipping his ale, he brooded on the unfairness of fate. Isabel was not to his taste, a little skinny, hot-at-hand, and far too outspoken, but in order to get his hands on her fortune, he could have swallowed his distaste. Marriage to Isabel hadnever been a sure thing, and the way she was refusing to pay him to keep his mouth shut and go away had made the prospect of his being able to bring her to the altar even more unlikely. Still, it rankled to discover that someone was there before him.
    Reviewing the meeting with Sherbrook this morning, he frowned. With his nose for scandal and gossip, he’d wager a purse full of yellow boys that there was something havy cavy about that engagement. There’d been nothing of May or orange blossoms about the pair of them and the more he thought of it, the more convinced he became that if Isabel and Sherbrook were engaged there was something unusual about it. Something he could use to his advantage?
    After mulling the situation over for several moments Whitley finally gave up. He couldn’t see any way, at this time, that he could turn the engagement to his benefit, but he did intend to snoop about and see what he could find out.
    Returning to the counter with his empty mug, he allowed Keating to pour him another. Leaning against the bar, he sipped his second mug of ale slowly and made light conversation with Keating, angling for an opening to drop in mention of Sherbrook.
    An interruption occurred a few minutes later with the arrival of two youths. Jostling with each other, as boys will do, they approached the bar. Cheeky grins on each grimy face, they demanded lemonade.
    Smiling, Keating served the two boys. Whitley recognized the one boy with the dark, lank hair