Читать онлайн «A Seditious Affair»
Автор К. Дж. Чарльз
A Loveswept eBook Original
Copyright © 2016 by K. J. Charles
Excerpt from
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark, and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.
This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book
eBook ISBN 9781101886069
Cover design: Caroline Teagle
v4. 1
ep
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Chapter 1
JULY 1819
The Tory was waiting when Silas entered the private room.
He stood as if looking out the window, though it was covered by drapes. No prying eyes wanted. His back was to the door, and Silas gave himself a moment to look. Curly black hair that he knew to be shot with silver at the temples. A pair of shoulders beginning to round, just a little, from too long spent at a desk. Fawn breeches that didn’t hug his arse nearly as much as they might. A rich man, by Silas’s standards.
Probably an important man. An unknown man.He turned a moment after Silas entered, though he must have heard the door. Dark eyes under the black hair. Welsh blood at work, that was, that and the strong, dark features.
The Tory looked at him, unblinking. Didn’t smile. Didn’t say good evening.
Silas crossed to his usual chair, watching. The Tory watched him back.
Silas sat. It was a comfortable chair, and he’d been on his feet all day and had walked here from Ludgate too. He allowed himself a sigh of contentment, then looked up at the well-dressed man who waited in silent stillness.
“Wine. ” His own Cockney rasp always seemed more pronounced in the Tory’s presence.
The Tory didn’t move for a moment, as if shocked by the order, a flush darkening on his cheeks, then he went, in silence, to the little table. There was a bottle there, already uncorked, two long-stemmed glasses. He poured for them both with a hand that shook, left one glass there, came over to hand Silas his.
Silas tasted the wine. Rich, red, almost certainly costing some impossible sum. Like the private room at Millay’s, like the Tory’s coat and gleaming boots, like everything in the room except himself.
The Tory stood close, watching. Silas swung one leg over the other. He wore shoes and worsted stockings. The Tory wore Hessians and silk.
