Free Napoleon's Woman by Samantha Saxon

asked, decidedly confounded.
    "Yes, yes, yes, she did." Aidan waved off his confusion. "What I meant to convey was, God allowed me to survive Albuera, allowed me to be taken captive, allowed me to escape for the sole purpose of stopping this woman." He waited for Daniel to understand, but when he didn’t Aidan added, "Don’t you see, I’m the only one that knows what she looks like, what she is."
    "Is that why ya look like hell? You been lookin’ for the woman?"
    Aidan nodded, "She’s in London, Daniel. I know it. Glenbroke is making inquiries, while I continue to search for her."
    Daniel looked at his exhausted friend and said the only thing that would help. "You won’t capture her if you’re tired and weak. You’ve got to eat, Aidan."
    "I suppose you’re right." Aidan wrinkled his nose at the distasteful fit of his impeccable midnight blue jacket. "If I don’t regain my weight, I shall be forced to purchase an entirely new wardrobe. It’ll cost a fortune."
    Viscount DunDonell grinned at Wessex’s unwavering practicality. The man’s was able to go about his day without creasing his breeches; whereas Daniel’s garments were as wrinkled as a whore’s bed sheets.
    "Surely, it will not come to that," Daniel gasped with feigned horror.
    Aidan did not miss his sarcasm and gave him a once over and with a smile said, "Really, old man, you are not in a position to criticize."
    Daniel glanced down at his rumbled buckskins and favorite black Hessians, "And what the bloody hell does that mean?"
    "It means, Lord DunDonell," Aidan said with a nefarious grin. "That you are slovenly."
    The viscount’s jaw dropped, and his brows furrowed with indignation. "Slovenly! You bloody bastard, I should throttle ya fer that, but bein’ the dandy that ya are, I would na want to disturb cravat."
    "Dandy!"
    Daniel chuckled, truly enjoying himself. "Hit too close to the mark, did I?"
    "Your verbal aim is about as accurate as your marksmanship." Aidan raised a superior brow, knowing exactly what Daniel’s response to the jest would be.
    "Care to wager?"
    Wessex’s eyes positively sparkled as he said, "A thousand pound?"
    Damn!
    Daniel bit his lower lip, knowing Aidan was the better marksman, always had been able to back up that bloody arrogance. They stared at one another and he opened his mouth to decline the challenge, but heard himself say, "Manton’s, best of ten."
    "Done," Aidan agreed, rising to his feet with a grin that made him look for a moment like the boy who had joined Daniel in a fight against four older boys on the first day at Eton.
    ***
    The old man leaned heavily on his cane for support as he lowered himself into the crushed velvet chair. He dropped the last few inches onto the cushion with a small grunt and readjusted himself to an acceptable comfort. His gray-black hair had disappeared with the years, leaving brown spots on the shiny scalp where hair had once been.
    The Duke of Glenbroke smiled politely at the gentleman, noting that he was the type of man who would never be noticed, much less remarked upon. His dreary clothing and lack of ornamentation led one to believe him nothing more than on befuddled old man of meager income.
    However, Gilbert knew better than to be fooled by the mundane facade. Eyes the color of warm brandy held the sharpness of keen intelligence, although Gilbert had seen them deliberately dulled on more than one occasion. The men were both members of the club in which they now sat, waiting to begin their meeting.
    "Evening, Glenbroke, haven’t seen you here in quite some time. Must be that stunning wife of yours that keeps you at home at night, what?" He said a bit loudly, adding a wink as two gentlemen passed their secluded corner of the great room.
    When the men had moved out of hearing range, the old man’s jovial tone changed to an authoritative tenor accustomed to making decisions. "What is this about, Your Grace? I am not fond of meetings, as you know."
    "Quite. However, it cannot be