Free While You Were Spying (Regency Spies Book 0) by Shana Galen Page A

exaggerated taps then held it there and narrowed her eyes. “And what, pray tell, is your business in Hampshire, my lord?”
    Ethan was only too familiar with the woman’s tone of voice. It oozed matrimonial insinuation. Lady Brigham raised her eyebrows and looked sidelong at her daughter. Miss Dashing appeared to have shrunk six inches.
    “I’m visiting my brother at Grayson Park.”
    “Ah, the earl.” Lady Brigham drew in a breath, her white gauzy fichu swelling like a sail. “I see.” The finger tapped at her lips again as she exhaled. “But surely Francesca did not wander as far as the Park?” The unasked question hovered in the air, and he was thankful the girl snatched at it.
    “No, Mamma . Lord Winterbourne was riding, and we met purely by chance. He offered to escort me home.” She spoke quickly, obviously hoping to move the conversation along.
    Lady Brigham’s eyes widened. Ethan swore he saw them glitter.
    “I see .”
    Damn. This was why he avoided Society. Spend ten minutes with an unmarried miss, and you were suddenly betrothed. “Is Lord Brigham at home? I’d like to speak with him.”
    The woman inhaled sharply, her eyes almost popping from their sockets. “Oh! I see !”
    Ethan frowned. Beside him, the girl closed her eyes, looking mortified. The devil take him if he hadn’t inadvertently confirmed her mother’s matrimonial hopes.
    He had no patience for this. “If the viscount is not at home,” Ethan plowed on, “I’ll wait in the library—”
    “You will do no such thing!” Lady Brigham clapped her hands three times in rapid suggestion. “You must join us in the drawing room.” She gestured to the dark, formidable doors at the end of the entrance hall.
    “Thank you, Lady Brigham, but—”
    “Call me Signora, per favore .”
    Ethan took a deep breath. “ Signora . When do you expect—”
    She turned and walked away, shoes clicking loudly on the floor as she passed the numerous Roman statues adorning the niches in the echoing hall.
    Ethan didn’t move for a long moment. Had the woman actually cut him off and walked away from him? Him ? A marquess . Who the devil did she think—?
    “I must warn you I am determined to at least offer you some refreshment.” Lady Brigham held up a hand, stopping in front of a bust of some Caesar or other. “There is no use arguing, I’m afraid.” She gave him a sly smile. “It’s the very least I can do for a gentiluomo who’s asked to see Francesca’s father .” She opened the door to the drawing room and glided inside.
    Ethan ground his teeth, then watched as the girl plodded after her mother.
    His every instinct told him entering that room would be a mistake. He’d be trapped, alone with the crazed, Italian-squawking woman. He looked back along the entryway toward the door.
    The majordomo stepped behind him, cutting off his exit. “My lord.” The man indicated the drawing room with a graceful gesture.
    Damn. Outmaneuvered, Ethan took a step forward. He could almost feel the invisible silk strands tighten around him.

Eight
    F rancesca watched Winterbourne warily survey the drawing room from the doorway as she took her usual seat in the high-backed settle with dark green cushions. To her right, her mother reclined on a damask chaise longue in the center of the room. Winterbourne obviously wasn’t prepared to admit defeat, though with Norton, Tanglewilde’s majordomo, hovering behind him and her mother lying in wait before him, he would have to concede the entrance hall, at least.
    Personally, Francesca disliked the hall and the drawing room. She hated the cold, formal entry with its sightless marble busts, and the drawing room was too much her mother’s domain—overly vibrant and lush. Like her mother, it smelled of roses and powder. The chairs and settle were upholstered in damask and silk, their woods rich and warm. The gold draperies were heavy, laden with the weight of their fabric, and the floral pattern of the paper on the