Free My Scandalous Viscount by Gaelen Foley Page B

agents’ wives had simply been sent off somewhere for their own safety.
    Of course!
    That’s why Daphne’s letter hadn’t made any sense! That’s why Beauchamp had refused to give her any details. She saw it clearly now. Daphne must not have been allowed to reveal where she and Kate were. Oh, of course! Of course, of course. Carissa pressed her hand to her heart, filled with the greatest relief, indeed, joy, to understand at last that her friends were not excluding her. She had been half-convinced they had turned against her. But she knew she hadn’t done anything to offend them!
    She closed her eyes as her doubts about Daphne’s friendship dissolved. She repented for ever having doubted either Daphne or Kate. She hadn’t been rejected, after all. God, how she had agonized over the fear that her friends had somehow found out about The Incident in Brighton and were ostracizing her for her lack of moral fiber—and for concealing her secret from them.
    As for Lord Beauchamp, she looked at him, also, with new eyes.
    At least she understood now why he knew how to make stitches. And why he had gone “traveling” all those years abroad. Why he trained his iron body so hard. Not for vanity’s sake. Not to entice his lovers. But for the practical reason of being ready and able to fight for his country.
    Inside the dining room, he started to put his shirt back on, then looked at the blood all over it, and sighed, tossing it away. “Would you get me another shirt, Gray?”
    “Right away, sir.” The butler bowed and withdrew.
    Beau pulled the candle closer and took out a sheet of paper from the writing set. Carissa gazed at him, savoring her new understanding of the mysterious fellow, when all of a sudden, she felt an odd tickle crawling up her arm.
    She reacted automatically, flinging the spider off her arm with a small, girlish shriek of revulsion.
    Silencing herself too late, she pressed her lips shut, grimacing, while frissons of cold disgust continued running through her. All motion in the dining room had stopped.
    The butler had paused midway to the door.
    Lord Beauchamp was staring at the mirror.
    The guard dogs lying on the floor near him had perked up their ears. One growled, rising from the floor.
    The others began bristling, as well.
    “I say, did you hear something, my lord?”
    “Indeed. One moment, Gray.” Beau’s face hardened as he pushed away from the table and began stalking toward the mirror. “It would seem we have an intruder.”
    Carissa froze, wide-eyed.
    Bare-chested, he came up to the glass and stared into it, silent for a long moment. She shrank back, though she doubted he could see her. A scowl formed on his face.
    “Carissa?” he chided in a deep, disapproving rumble.
    She held perfectly still.
    His stare intensified, boring into hers mere inches away though she prayed he could not really see her through the glass.
    He folded his arms across his chest. “I know you’re in there.”
    She squeezed her eyes shut, mouthing a curse.
    “Answer me,” he ordered.
    Blast! Heart pounding, she did not know what to do, especially since she still had not managed to find a way out of this stupid maze.
    There was no telling how he’d react to her intrusion, but she was sure she was in trouble now.
    She had not crossed any ordinary rakehell. She had just disobeyed a man she now was rather sure was a spy for the Crown.
    Cursing herself for being a snoop, she folded her arms across her chest. Very well. Best to get it over with.
    “I’m here,” she admitted.

Chapter 6
    “O f course you are,” he said in a fresh wave of exasperation with her.
    Gray looked at him in alarm.
    Beau glared at the mirror. “I thought I told you to rest.”
    Her glum voice came from behind it: “Sorry.”
    He folded his arms across his chest, more outraged than he permitted to show on his face.
    Just. Bloody. Perfect.
    “What are you doing in there, Carissa?”
    She heaved a sigh. “I’m stuck.” He could hear the