Free Texas Viscount by Shirl Henke Page B

you that the viscount will never behave in such a fashion again. He is an American, after all, and lacks, er, discretion.”
           He said it as if that explained everything. Perhaps it did...at least as far as Americans from Texas were concerned. Sabrina did not know, nor did she wish to find out. “Please convey my regrets to Lord Hambleton. I was led to believe it was his niece, not his nephew, for whom he wished to engage my services. While I should be happy to instruct Miss Sophia—”
           “No. As of now, Miss Standish is studying at the Wilton Academy. Perhaps after she graduates in the spring, your services might be of use,” Hodgins said unctuously.
           Blackmail. Sabrina would have none of it. She shook her head. “I hate to disappoint, but I do have my other clients to consider. If I were to begin working with young gentlemen, well, you must understand how mothers might feel about employing me to instruct their daughters.”
           Hodgins was not happy. He was used to succeeding in any task the earl set him, but one look into Miss Sabrina Edgewater's stern blue eyes convinced him that this time he would fail. Perhaps Hambleton had an ace or two up his sleeve. He rose and bowed smartly to the squire's haughty daughter. “I shall convey your regrets to the earl. If you should reconsider,” he added, thrusting a card into her hand, “you have only to inform me.”
           It will snow in the Congo first, she thought as she closed the door forcefully behind the pompous little man.
     
    * * * *
     
           “Our worry is Albany's second son, George Clarence. Being King Edward's nephew makes his liaison with the Russians most...embarrassing for the government,” Jamison explained as the two men strolled in a small glade hidden by overgrowth while their horses grazed at opposite sides of the natural concealment.
           “George is the son of the Duke of Albany, King Edward's youngest brother?” Josh asked.
           Jamison studied the Texan with surprise. “Why is it that you seem to be one thing and are really quite another?”
           “Just call me an enigma,” Josh replied dryly. “Tell me about Georgie's Russian friends.”
           “You know about the Great Game?”
           Cantrell nodded. “Britain versus the Russian Empire. Been going on ever since you fellows acquired real estate in India. You want to maintain the status quo, with the Royal Navy dominating the oceans. You've got the Russians blocked on the Bosporus. All you have to do is keep their ambitions in Manchuria and China in check. The Japanese can help you do that.”
           “I say, you are well informed.” Jamison appeared delighted.
           “I've read a book or two. Even polished up on recent English history during the voyage over.” When I wasn't hanging my head in a slop bucket.
           “Well, dear 'Georgie'—an apt name, by the by—is enamored of a Russian woman named Natasha Samsonov. Quite a beauty.”
           “Seems I recall that one of the king's other brothers is married to a Russian princess. What you folks have is too much inbreeding. Tends to produce stupid stock.”
           Michael threw back his head and laughed heartily. “You're nothing if not direct—and truthful. All the royal houses of Europe have married their first cousins far too often.”
           Josh decided he could learn to like this shrewd Englishman. “For one of those stiff-upper-lip fellows, you're pretty outspoken yourself.”
           “When it suits me,” Jamison replied cryptically. “Here's the dilemma in a nutshell. The Samsonov woman is quite a famous ballerina, employed by an English stage company here in London. But we've learned that she's involved right down to the tips of her red satin ballet slippers with a band of Russians who've supposedly run afoul of the czarina and been banished. They live lavishly in