Read Online Somewhat Scandalous (Brambridge Novel 1) by Pearl Darling - Free Book Online
Authors: Pearl Darling
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Adult, series, Regency, England, Military, romantic suspense, 19th century, Bachelor, Victorian, Britain, Experiments, Forever Love, Single Woman, Hearts Desire, London Society, Brambridge, British Government, Scandalous Activities, Spymaster, Foreign Agent
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Charles standing by a deep window, a glass of champagne fizzing on a round table by the fire. Agatha drew back into the hall. What was he doing in there? He was meant to have left the champagne glass on the table, alone .
CHAPTER 8
Henry walked through the dark streets to Granwich’s residence. The wind ruffled at his coat, and grabbed at his hat as he held it firmly on his head. If he hadn’t been intending to join Agatha and Victoria at Lady Foxtone’s ball later he wouldn’t have taken it with him.
Granwich lived in the unfashionable old town houses that surrounded Covent Garden, interspersed between tanners yards and factories. Paint flaked on the small nondescript door that gave onto a narrow hall. Henry was greeted by a dour butler who led him into an austere side room with bare walls and a desk behind which stood a comfortable chair. In front of the desk stood a three legged stool. Henry winced. He knew which one he would be sitting in.
“Sit down, Anglethorpe. Can I get you a drink?” Granwich moved to behind the desk and sank gracefully into the chair. His hand hovered over the decanter that sat beside him on the fireplace. The butler closed the door behind him with a discreet click.
“No, thank you.” Henry could feel his stomach rumbling. He had missed dinner. Cursing under his breath, he put a hand to his midriff. He did unreasonable things when he was hungry. Usually he carried a bag of nuts in his coat pocket, but Ames had taken away his normal attire to clean, having told him in no uncertain terms that a peer of the realm did not go about his business with a bloodied jacket for six months. No peer of the realm that had Ames as a valet anyway.
Henry looked at the stool’s sharp edges. “Do you mind if I stand?” It would keep his mind off his empty stomach. Hopefully.
Granwich fluttered his hands. “Of course not.” After pressing his hands together for a few moments he cleared his throat and shuffled some papers on the desk. “Three things, Anglethorpe. Firstly, how is your hunt for a bride coming along?”
Henry gazed levelly at Granwich. The lady he had intended for his bride had no idea that he was interested. In fact she seemed rather taken with someone else. “It’s coming along,” he said smoothly.
“Fine,” Granwich looked away to pour himself a glass from the decanter. “I am sure you have everything in hand. Secondly, have you found what your father was looking for?”
Henry drew in a quick breath. “No. What’s the third thing?”
Granwich coughed and glanced back at Henry. “Yes, thank you. We’ve heard some more mutters about someone or something called Monsieur Herr . Lovall’s had his ear to the ground at the docks. The taverns are full of it.”
“ Monsieur Herr ?” Henry leaned against the bare wall and crossed his legs comfortably. He could stand in that position for hours, when he wasn’t thinking about how hungry he was.
“Yes. We think that the Monsieur Herr is the French spy that I mentioned to you a while ago. Some of the chatter seems to indicate that the man is German, but young Lovall says that the balance of chatter says he’s probably French. Plus there’s been a spate of important British information falling into French hands in the last two months, most unfortunately.”
Henry straightened. Normally he managed to nip the spies in the bud before any information had been passed over. “Has Anthony got any more information?” Anthony Lovall was a master at discerning the fact from the fiction.
Granwich sighed. “No, unfortunately not.”
“I think I’ll take that drink.”
Granwich nodded and poured a small glass of brandy. The glass scraped on the rough wood of the desk as he pushed it towards Henry. Picking up the glass in one hand, Henry pushed the stool against the wall with his foot and sat, resting his back against the wall casement, rumpling his coat tails.
There were four aspects of espionage to his mind, targeting,
CHAPTER 8
Henry walked through the dark streets to Granwich’s residence. The wind ruffled at his coat, and grabbed at his hat as he held it firmly on his head. If he hadn’t been intending to join Agatha and Victoria at Lady Foxtone’s ball later he wouldn’t have taken it with him.
Granwich lived in the unfashionable old town houses that surrounded Covent Garden, interspersed between tanners yards and factories. Paint flaked on the small nondescript door that gave onto a narrow hall. Henry was greeted by a dour butler who led him into an austere side room with bare walls and a desk behind which stood a comfortable chair. In front of the desk stood a three legged stool. Henry winced. He knew which one he would be sitting in.
“Sit down, Anglethorpe. Can I get you a drink?” Granwich moved to behind the desk and sank gracefully into the chair. His hand hovered over the decanter that sat beside him on the fireplace. The butler closed the door behind him with a discreet click.
“No, thank you.” Henry could feel his stomach rumbling. He had missed dinner. Cursing under his breath, he put a hand to his midriff. He did unreasonable things when he was hungry. Usually he carried a bag of nuts in his coat pocket, but Ames had taken away his normal attire to clean, having told him in no uncertain terms that a peer of the realm did not go about his business with a bloodied jacket for six months. No peer of the realm that had Ames as a valet anyway.
Henry looked at the stool’s sharp edges. “Do you mind if I stand?” It would keep his mind off his empty stomach. Hopefully.
Granwich fluttered his hands. “Of course not.” After pressing his hands together for a few moments he cleared his throat and shuffled some papers on the desk. “Three things, Anglethorpe. Firstly, how is your hunt for a bride coming along?”
Henry gazed levelly at Granwich. The lady he had intended for his bride had no idea that he was interested. In fact she seemed rather taken with someone else. “It’s coming along,” he said smoothly.
“Fine,” Granwich looked away to pour himself a glass from the decanter. “I am sure you have everything in hand. Secondly, have you found what your father was looking for?”
Henry drew in a quick breath. “No. What’s the third thing?”
Granwich coughed and glanced back at Henry. “Yes, thank you. We’ve heard some more mutters about someone or something called Monsieur Herr . Lovall’s had his ear to the ground at the docks. The taverns are full of it.”
“ Monsieur Herr ?” Henry leaned against the bare wall and crossed his legs comfortably. He could stand in that position for hours, when he wasn’t thinking about how hungry he was.
“Yes. We think that the Monsieur Herr is the French spy that I mentioned to you a while ago. Some of the chatter seems to indicate that the man is German, but young Lovall says that the balance of chatter says he’s probably French. Plus there’s been a spate of important British information falling into French hands in the last two months, most unfortunately.”
Henry straightened. Normally he managed to nip the spies in the bud before any information had been passed over. “Has Anthony got any more information?” Anthony Lovall was a master at discerning the fact from the fiction.
Granwich sighed. “No, unfortunately not.”
“I think I’ll take that drink.”
Granwich nodded and poured a small glass of brandy. The glass scraped on the rough wood of the desk as he pushed it towards Henry. Picking up the glass in one hand, Henry pushed the stool against the wall with his foot and sat, resting his back against the wall casement, rumpling his coat tails.
There were four aspects of espionage to his mind, targeting,
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