Read Online Shirley Kerr by Confessions of a Viscount - Free Book Online

newspaper higher as Sir Nigel walked past him at White’s the next afternoon. As soon as he was out the door, Alistair shoved the paper aside, retrieved his journal and pencil, and recorded the names of the men with whom Nigel had exchanged more than banal pleasantries.
    He’d never before tried to conceal his observations, if one didn’t count deceiving the teachers at school when he was supposed to be studying something other than the night sky. Subterfuge lent an air of excitement to an otherwise tedious activity.
    An extra guinea slipped to the waiter who brought Alistair’s wine confirmed that all of the men with Nigel were his usual cronies. Also as usual, the waiter quietly added, Nigel had graciously allowed someone else in the group to pay for his meal and drinks.
    If the man was expecting to come into money soon, he was being very circumspect about it. He hadn’t even entered anything in the betting books in over a month.
    Alistair checked his watch. Just enough time to go home, change clothes, have his phaeton readied, and take Miss Parnell for a drive, as they’d agreed last night at the ball, so they could discuss what he’d learned. Or the lack thereof, since he didn’t think the information he’d gathered so far would prove to be of much value.
    Even so, he was going for a drive in the park on a beautiful day with an intriguing woman—the perfect opportunity for intimate conversation to get better acquainted with his mysterious miss.
    He picked up his pace.
     
    “Let me take the reins,” were her first words upon stepping out of the town house and seeing his high perch phaeton.
    Alistair exchanged a knowing grin with the groom holding the horse. “Perhaps some other time.” He gave her a hand up, admiring the way her dress clung to the curve of her hip as she climbed up to the seat before she sat and settled her skirts.
    “I’m considered a dab hand,” she said with the same eager tone as soon as he was seated beside her.
    The bench was narrow, requiring that their legs touch. He had a bit more space on his side and could move over a tad, but decided he preferred the contact with Charlotte’s rose-scented body, however incidental. He also liked the way the folds of her sprigged muslin skirt bunched up against his buckskin breeches.
    Alistair nodded to the groom to let go the horse, then gave the reins a slap and pulled out into traffic. “I wasn’t aware driving lessons were part of a lady’s education these days.”
    “Steven taught me. Said one never knows what skills may come in handy.” Her smile hinted there were a great many unusual skills that had been part of her education.
    Alistair returned her smile, eager to explore the extent of her unorthodox learning.
    Before traffic became any heavier, he shared with Miss Parnell what he’d learned so far about Sir Nigel. He spared a glance to witness her response to his findings, and had to force his attention back to his driving, away from her finger tapping her lush lower lip.
    “Perhaps my theory is all wrong, and has been from the beginning.” She let out a sigh big enough that he felt it against his side. “Sir Nigel has nothing to do with the object, and last night we were simply witnessing nothing more sinister than a lover’s quarrel.”
    They turned into the park and down Rotten Row, joining the slow parade of vehicles. “It’s early days yet,” Alistair said, disliking the sound of defeat in her voice.
    “No,” she said, her voice laced with dejection. “Steven was right, and I was wrong. I should leave it alone, and just play at being a milk-and-water miss, like he wants.” She let out another sigh that brushed her rib cage against his, her downcast gaze focused on the ground passing beneath the phaeton’s wheels.
    He had a hard time believing she would give up so easily. Even on their brief acquaintance, this seemed out of character for her.
    Then he remembered how she had played the vapid miss when they first