Free Texas Viscount by Shirl Henke Page A

been west of the Mississippi. I found the newspaper accounts of President Roosevelt s adventures in the Dakotas as fascinating as those during the late war.”
           “The colonel was in the stock business right enough. I started out punching cows, but he bought his ranch right up front. I'm a stockman now, too. And I’ll admit I've been a mite more successful at it than he was,” Josh couldn't resist adding. “But then I'd be a disaster as president so I guess you could say, every man has to do what he has the talent to do. That why you're a spy?”
           Now it was the Englishman's turn to laugh. “An unsavory term but true, alors. I come from a long line of spies. My grandfather was an agent against Napoleon, and my father worked to deny British diplomatic recognition to the Confederacy.” He looked over at Josh, realizing that Texas had been a part of that abortive rebellion.
           “Don't worry. It was long before my time. As we say back where I come from, I didn't have a dog in that fight.” Gertie hailed from Massachusetts and was a staunch Unionist but he didn't particularly feel like sharing that with the Englishman. Jamison looked relieved.
           All during their conversation he had unobtrusively been studying Josh's bruised eyes. When Josh finally looked directly at him, he reddened. “A souvenir from that set-to at the wharf yesterday?” he dared to ask.
           “Only the right one. The other...well, I'd as soon not go into that.” Now it was Josh's turn to feel his face flush beneath his tan.
           “We'd probably be best advised to discuss the matter at hand before someone remarks on our being seen together,” Jamison said briskly. He glanced quickly around the crowded park and then nodded to a wooded copse several hundred yards distant. “I'll meet you at the opposite side of those trees at half past the hour. Watch you aren't followed.”
           Muttering about tomfool secrecy and cow smashers, Josh meandered around the woods, returning the curious nods of fancy-dressed folks in carriages and dudes on horseback. He'd read the newspaper accounts of his arrival and would have bet the people expected him to incite another riot...or take a scalp or two before he left the park. Of course, playing the role of a wild and woolly dime-novel Westerner was what he was supposed to do. But being the resident yokel was getting to be a real pain in the...eyes.
           “Reckon that fracas at the pier gave me a good head start on it,” he mused with a chuckle as he rode to his rendezvous.
     
    * * * *
     
           “You cannot be serious!” Sabrina almost dropped the teacup she was handing to Mr. Hodgins.
           The secretary had sent word that he still wished to speak with her about the position in the earl's household. He'd asked permission to call at her home that afternoon and apologized for any inconvenience caused by the unfortunate accident at the fountain. Mollified and relieved, she had immediately responded that she would be delighted to receive him.
           Until this. Steadying her hand, she managed not to spill the hot tea all over his pristine suit as she handed him the cup. “You wish me to tutor that...that is, Lord Hambleton's nephew?”
           “That is correct, Miss Edgewater,” Hodgins said, dabbing nervously at his brow with a handkerchief. He did not look pleased with her reaction, but the expression of disappointment quickly gave way to a placating smile. “Your credentials are quite impeccable, and Lady Rushcroft speaks highly of you.”
           I'd sooner teach a baboon to ride bareback in hell. “But I instruct young ladies in the social graces. I've never worked with a gentleman. It simply isn't done.” And he isn't a gentleman!
           “His lordship understands your reluctance after the incident this morning, but it was a most regrettable misunderstanding. He urged me to assure