Read Online The Rake's Mistress by Nicola Cornick - Free Book Online

be there, exciting, pleasurable and at the same time deeply comforting, like coming home.
    Rebecca put her face in her hands for a brief moment, then bent to scoop up the pencils and the sheets of paper that were still lying scattered on the floor. She reminded herself that bliss was a very short-lived and deceptive feeling, for when it had gone, as it surely would, one was left counting the cost.
    She must be practical. She had a living to earn and she wanted matters neat, tidy and simple. There was no room in her private life for passion when it all went into her work. Nothing must induce her to accept carte blanche . Not Lucas’s persuasions, nor her own desires. She owed it to herself to keep that pledge.
    All the same, she was tempted.

Chapter Three
    L ord Lucas Kestrel was feeling guilty. It was not a sensation that was familiar to him and he did not care for it. It was a guilt that had crept over him during the previous few days and had finally driven him out of the house at nearly midnight to take refuge at White’s, where his friends had greeted him with great pleasure and had promptly set out to relieve him of a large part of his army pay. Since Lucas could not concentrate he lost very quickly, and had just thrown his cards in for a final time when someone touched his shoulder and Cory Newlyn’s voice said in his ear, ‘Would you care to join me for a drink, Lucas, before you lose your shirt?’
    Lucas looked up, his dark scowl lightening into a reluctant smile. Cory had been a friend of the Kestrels for many years and the two of them had met only the previous week when he had called on Lord Newlyn at the British Museum to discuss the pictorial code being used by the Midwinter spies.
    Lucas stretched. ‘I’ll gladly join you,’ he said, moving to sit with Cory at a quiet corner table where a bottle of port already resided on the table between them. Cory sat down, crossed his long legs at the ankle and viewed Lucas with a meditative air.
    ‘The only time I have seen a man lose like that was when your brother Richard was suffering the pangs of unrequited love for Deborah Stratton,’ he said cheerfully. ‘There must be something weighing heavy on your mind. What is going on, Luc?’
    Lucas scowled. ‘Damn it, Cory,’ he said feelingly, ‘must you be so shrewd?’
    Cory laughed. ‘Forgive me. If you do not wish to talk…’
    Lucas shrugged, trying to shake off his irritation. ‘I feel guilty because I am behaving like a cad,’ he said bluntly. Briefly he told Cory the tale of his dealings with Rebecca Raleigh. ‘Tom Bradshaw discovered that she worked out of a studio in Clerkenwell,’ he finished. ‘Until four months ago it belonged to her uncle, George Provost. He was a well-respected engraver, if not a particularly eminent one, and he would have been the perfect choice to make the Midwinter engravings, for he would welcome the business but not be famous enough for anyone to recognise his work.’
    Cory grimaced. ‘You are sure?’
    ‘Certain.’ Lucas toyed with his glass of port, watching the deep red liquid glow in the light. ‘I have been to the studio. There were some pieces there that matched the patterns on the Midwinter glass precisely, and Miss Raleigh confirmed that they were her uncle’s work.’ Lucas sighed and sat back. ‘There can be no doubt.’
    ‘So we have found our engraver.’
    ‘It would appear so. But as he has so inconveniently died, his niece is our only contact to the Midwinter spy ring and I need more information from her.’
    Cory pulled a face. ‘I see your dilemma.’
    Lucas nodded. ‘I am taking advantage of Miss Raleigh’s vulnerability because I want her to confide in me,’ he said. He pulled a disgusted face. ‘Good God, it sounds even worse when I express it like that! I can scarce believe what I am doing.’
    Cory did not reply immediately. He lifted the bottle and poured another glass of port slowly, watching Lucas’s face as he did so.
    ‘It sounds