Free A Daring Passion by Rosemary Rogers Page B

library, he was not surprised to discover that a fire had already been lit to glow warmly off the polished oak paneling and to drive the distinct chill from the room. His gaze shifted to take in the sight of Carlos stretched upon one of the leather couches, a large glass of brandy in his hands.
    â€œAt last,” the younger man complained. “I was beginning to fear that you had been overcome by a half-grown waif.” The dark gaze abruptly narrowed as he studied Philippe’s tight expression. “Was he more trouble than you expected?”
    Philippe crossed the Persian carpet to toss his coat on a wing chair.
    â€œEnough trouble to drive a man to Bedlam,” he muttered.
    There was a faint pause before he heard Carlos rise to his feet. “What the devil are you up to, Philippe?”
    Reluctantly, Philippe turned to meet his friend’s curious gaze. “Attempting to rescue my brother from his latest disaster. What else could I possibly have on my mind?”
    â€œYou know I speak of the crianca. You should have given him a good thrashing, or handed him over to the authorities if you were determined to see him punished. Why would you risk exposing your arrival in London by holding the pathetic creature captive?”
    â€œBecause it suits me to do so.”
    Carlos gave a slow shake of his head. He knew Philippe far too well. “There is something more to the boy than you are revealing. You would never have hauled him to London if he did not have some value.”
    Philippe shrugged. “He amuses me.”
    â€œHe…amuses you?” Carlos gave a sudden laugh. “ Meu Deus, is there something you wish to confess?”
    With a frown Philippe moved toward the heavy mahogany desk set near the bay window. For reasons he couldn’t name, he had no desire to reveal that the lad was instead a beautiful young woman. Not even to this man whom he considered a brother.
    For now she was a secret he intended to keep closely guarded.
    â€œThe only thing I wish is to discover if my agents have managed to complete the tasks I set for them,” he said as he opened the top drawer to pull out a thick packet. He swiftly untied the string and began to spread out the various documents over the desk. “Ah.”
    Carlos moved to stand beside him. “What are those?”
    Philippe felt his stomach clench as he skimmed through the various papers. Before leaving for England he had sent word to his most trusted agents to begin the investigations to clear his brother’s name. Beginning with these papers.
    There were promissory notes adding up to an enormous sum, sketched maps of Windsor Castle and the surrounding grounds, lists of guards on duty and a list of drugs that were all lethal.
    There were even letters written in French that were supposedly from some cohort that warned Jean-Pierre to murder the king before the end of the year if he expected to collect his reward.
    â€œThese are the exact copies of the papers that they found in Jean-Pierre’s possession the night he was arrested,” he told his companion. He lifted one of the letters to point toward the small etching in the bottom corner. “Here. This is the mark Jean-Pierre noticed.”
    Carlos frowned. “Looks like a scribble.”
    â€œActually, it’s a hieroglyph.”
    â€œHow can you tell? I thought you hated anything Egyptian.”
    â€œOnly when it is costing me a large fortune to fund my father’s idiotic expeditions,” Philippe retorted. “But this particular hieroglyph happens to be very familiar to me. It is the mark of an ancient prince. To be precise it is the mark of the prince that my father unearthed from his tomb nearly twenty years ago.”
    â€œAre you certain, Philippe?” Carlos reached to pluck one of the maps from the desk. “These papers are mere copies, and as fine as your henchmen might be, I doubt that any of them would be able to accurately copy