Free Beauty and the Spy by Julie Anne Long Page A

here Kit, but I must ask you not to repeat it. To anyone, including your father. I could be seriously reprimanded. Or worse."
    Kit shook his head impatiently. "Talk, John."
    "It's about Morley."
    Kit went very still; oddly, he was unsurprised. And then he padded over to his bureau, blew dust off a pair of glasses, which made John snort a laugh, and poured two brandies. He slid one across the table to John. "Go on."
    "We've intercepted a letter to Thaddeus Morley written by a woman who says she will "Tell all I know, all you've done," if he doesn't send money to her. In other words, she's blackmailing him. We need to find her, because she might very well be able to prove Morley sold information to the French. But so far, she's remained one step ahead of us."
    "Who is 'we' John? And what the hell does this have to do with me? Apart from, shall we say, my 'interest' in Morley?"
    John curled his fingers around his brandy a little too casually. "I can't tell you who 'we' is. But that woman is Caroline Allston."
    The sound of her name after so many years wasn't quite as dramatic as a sword drawn from its sheath, but it wasn't comfortable, either. Kit watched John's hand go up almost absently to rub his shoulder, where a round scar marked his skin. Kit had put it there with a pistol shot when they were both just seventeen years old.
    Caroline's legacy.
    "Again, What does this have to do with me, John?"
    John took another sip of brandy, and there was an odd lilt to his voice when he spoke. "She's sent a letter to you, too, Kit."
    The muscles of Kit's stomach tightened. He was stunned. "Ah," he said.
    John continued quickly. "To your London town house. I intercepted it. In the letter, she asked for your"—he paused, and cleared his throat; his voice had gone strangely husky—"for your help. Said she was in trouble, and she hoped to come to you. I suppose the letter was meant to prepare you for her… visit."
    Help . Caroline needed his help.
    "When was this letter sent?"
    "A week ago."
    "And you're here at The Roses because…"
    "She never arrived at your town house. And The Roses would be the ideal place to meet her, or hide her…" John took a sip of his brandy, lowered the glass. "If you were inclined to do so, that is."
    The lamplight guttered in a wayward breeze; the liquor glowed on the table between them, but their faces were momentarily cast in shadow.
    "I haven't seen or heard from the woman in almost two decades, John," Kit said finally, managing the words blithely. "I've scarcely given her a thought. But you've only to ask me, not crawl about my bedroom. Or my town house, for that matter."
    "Orders, Kit."
    "From whom?" he demanded swiftly. A fruitless question, he suspected, but it was worth a try, anyhow.
    John shook his head. "You know I can't tell you. And I didn't know you'd… that is, I wasn't told you'd be here. It's possible she would have come here without your knowledge, looking for you, if she didn't find you in London."
    "Possible," Kit said, in such a way that made it sound highly improbable.
    John said nothing; he merely looked about the room idly. He probably knew Kit's room as well as he knew his own. Kit considered whether to tell John about James Makepeace. Part of him resented the fact that he wasn't allowed to investigate Morley. He wondered, too, how it was that his father didn't know about the investigation. And it was maddening, God help him, to think that John might very well bring Morley down before Kit could have a chance to do it. The unworthy, competitive part of him was tempted to stay silent.
    But this was John… his best friend since childhood, the brother of his heart, and Kit was a patriot. If Morley had sold information to the French…
    "John… there's something I should tell you. You've heard that James Makepeace was killed?"
    John ducked his head in somber confirmation.
    "A few weeks ago, James told me the most extraordinary tale, which I took only half-seriously at the time, I