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Authors: Jenny Brown
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thing, too.
Would it be safe to meet him at the masquerade? She’d been there many a time. Good pickings there for someone with well-trained fingers. The smell of lust in the air there was so strong, it made people careless. But it might make her careless, too. And she must not underestimate how she might respond if she met him there. She’d not been able to shake off the craving the captain had aroused to find out what else he could make her body do, and in the heady atmosphere of the masquerade, it would be all too easy to betray Randall again.
“There’s something else,” Danny added. “Snake’s looking for you.”
The hairs rose on her arm. She wanted nothing to do with the Weaver’s message boy.
“He put the word out he might have a job for you. But you won’t be needin’ him now that you’ve gone off to live with the nobs.”
“You heard about that?”
“Everyone did. Snaggletooth saw you go off in the big carriage with the girls. You getting reformed, Tem?”
“Not likely.”
“Din’t think so. But it would be nice to spend the winter indoors,” he said wistfully. “Do Her Ladyship want to reform anyone else?”
A stab of guilt shot through her. Danny’s old coat was so ragged even the used-clothes man couldn’t have sold it. Even now, she still had so much more than the people she’d dedicated herself to serve. But she could do no more for him now.
“She only takes girls, mate,” she said brusquely. “And I’m out of there in a few days, too.” Then she thanked him for the information and, with much to ponder, turned her steps back toward the Refuge.
B y the time Trev presented himself at East India Company headquarters in Leadenhall Street the following day for his appointment with the under secretary, he had begun to regret that he had given in to the temptation Major Stanley had planted in his mind and taken steps to summon the pickpocket. But his man had already delivered his message to the crossing boy, and there was no way to undo it.
Though, of course, he need not continue on the dangerous course he had begun. He hoped the department would offer him some task that would provide him something better to do than engage in such unwise behavior. It was one thing to take risks in the service of his country, quite another to take them, as he had with the pickpocket, out of idleness or vice.
When they were alone, Mr. Fanshawe began, “How good it is to meet you at last, Captain. Sir Charles has often sung your praises in his dispatches.”
The under secretary was a jowly, bespectacled man about fifty years of age with thinning hair, whose voice had that unctuous tone that seemed to be universal among men who worked out of luxurious offices.
He continued, “We at John Company would be in sorry shape were it not for the work he does for us at the Secret and Political Department. I hope I’m not being too forward in calling upon you so early in your leave, but it was to discuss that work I summoned you here. Sir Charles intimated you would not be averse to taking on an errand or two for us while you were home. Is that, indeed, the case?”
“Very much so,” Trev assured him. “I am a man of action, and much as I value my leave, I find it hard to while away the time with so little to do.”
“Very good then. As it happens, I have here an invitation for you to visit Sir Humphrey Diggett next month at his estate in Surrey.”
“The Mad Nabob?”
“The very same. He’s acquired an obscure Vedic manuscript and requests we send him someone who has the skills needed to interpret it. Word of your mastery of Sanskrit has reached us even here, so you were the obvious man to send him. Does that interest you?”
“It does.” Who could resist a chance to visit the notorious estate, Srinagar Mahal, that Sir Humphrey had constructed on his acreage in Surrey with the millions he’d looted from the subcontinent. Even in the company mess, he’d heard tell of how the nabob had
Would it be safe to meet him at the masquerade? She’d been there many a time. Good pickings there for someone with well-trained fingers. The smell of lust in the air there was so strong, it made people careless. But it might make her careless, too. And she must not underestimate how she might respond if she met him there. She’d not been able to shake off the craving the captain had aroused to find out what else he could make her body do, and in the heady atmosphere of the masquerade, it would be all too easy to betray Randall again.
“There’s something else,” Danny added. “Snake’s looking for you.”
The hairs rose on her arm. She wanted nothing to do with the Weaver’s message boy.
“He put the word out he might have a job for you. But you won’t be needin’ him now that you’ve gone off to live with the nobs.”
“You heard about that?”
“Everyone did. Snaggletooth saw you go off in the big carriage with the girls. You getting reformed, Tem?”
“Not likely.”
“Din’t think so. But it would be nice to spend the winter indoors,” he said wistfully. “Do Her Ladyship want to reform anyone else?”
A stab of guilt shot through her. Danny’s old coat was so ragged even the used-clothes man couldn’t have sold it. Even now, she still had so much more than the people she’d dedicated herself to serve. But she could do no more for him now.
“She only takes girls, mate,” she said brusquely. “And I’m out of there in a few days, too.” Then she thanked him for the information and, with much to ponder, turned her steps back toward the Refuge.
B y the time Trev presented himself at East India Company headquarters in Leadenhall Street the following day for his appointment with the under secretary, he had begun to regret that he had given in to the temptation Major Stanley had planted in his mind and taken steps to summon the pickpocket. But his man had already delivered his message to the crossing boy, and there was no way to undo it.
Though, of course, he need not continue on the dangerous course he had begun. He hoped the department would offer him some task that would provide him something better to do than engage in such unwise behavior. It was one thing to take risks in the service of his country, quite another to take them, as he had with the pickpocket, out of idleness or vice.
When they were alone, Mr. Fanshawe began, “How good it is to meet you at last, Captain. Sir Charles has often sung your praises in his dispatches.”
The under secretary was a jowly, bespectacled man about fifty years of age with thinning hair, whose voice had that unctuous tone that seemed to be universal among men who worked out of luxurious offices.
He continued, “We at John Company would be in sorry shape were it not for the work he does for us at the Secret and Political Department. I hope I’m not being too forward in calling upon you so early in your leave, but it was to discuss that work I summoned you here. Sir Charles intimated you would not be averse to taking on an errand or two for us while you were home. Is that, indeed, the case?”
“Very much so,” Trev assured him. “I am a man of action, and much as I value my leave, I find it hard to while away the time with so little to do.”
“Very good then. As it happens, I have here an invitation for you to visit Sir Humphrey Diggett next month at his estate in Surrey.”
“The Mad Nabob?”
“The very same. He’s acquired an obscure Vedic manuscript and requests we send him someone who has the skills needed to interpret it. Word of your mastery of Sanskrit has reached us even here, so you were the obvious man to send him. Does that interest you?”
“It does.” Who could resist a chance to visit the notorious estate, Srinagar Mahal, that Sir Humphrey had constructed on his acreage in Surrey with the millions he’d looted from the subcontinent. Even in the company mess, he’d heard tell of how the nabob had
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