How to Tame a Lady (DF3) by Michaels Kasey

Author:Michaels, Kasey [Michaels, Kasey]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Romance, General, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9781460305508
Publisher: HQN Books
Published: 2009-10-02T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LUCAS LIT A CHEROOT with a paper spill from the fireplace, glancing toward the mantel clock before tossing the spill back into the flames.

The clock had just chimed twice.

The note Lucas had penned to Frayne, to be delivered to the man by one of the Cornwallis servants, had been clear: Discretion and cool heads are strongly suggested, my lord. I will be your guest one hour after midnight.

Frayne was keeping him waiting, undoubtedly in retribution for the way Lucas had avoided him at the Cornwallis ball. He could only wonder if the delay had been planned in order to show that he, Frayne, was the one in charge, or if he expected Lucas to spend the hour quaking in his evening shoes, fearful of the man’s power.

Either way, the man was doomed to disappointment.

Lucas turned toward the door to the study as he heard the latch depress, and watched dispassionately as Lord Frayne entered, his waistcoat undone, his cravat loosened. His age showing.

“I’ve just spoken to the men you saw tonight, and it seems I misjudged you, Basingstoke, gave you credit for an intelligence you do not possess. You’re as stupid as your father before you,” he said without preamble. “I thought you understood our bargain.”

“I thought I did, as well,” Lucas told him, sitting down in one of the wing chairs flanking the fireplace, crossing one long leg over the other. “As it turns out, I was wrong. I find now that I have other priorities, as well.”

Lord Frayne shrugged his shoulders before crossing to the drinks table and pouring himself a glass of port. Glass in hand, he walked across the carpet, to stand directly in front of Lucas’s chair, to glare down at him, a sneer on his face. “You probably believe your outburst tonight at The Broken Wheel changed things, don’t you? That you damaged your government’s plan.”

Lucas drew on his cheroot and then slowly blew out a stream of smoke, making the man wait for his answer.

“You mean your plan, Frayne, yours and whoever else may be involved. I believe I understand you now. You mean to draw even more power into your hands. More than our mad king, more than our proliferate Regent. More even than Sidmouth and Liverpool, who might share some of your beliefs and even think they understand your plan, but lack the ability to see beyond control of Parliament.”

“Small men, small minds, limited ambitions,” Frayne said dismissively. “As for our brain-addled German king and his wastrel sons? They are all clearly superfluous.”

Lucas hid his surprise at Frayne’s honest statement of his intentions. It was knowledge Lucas would be safer without, clearly. Yet he pressed the man for more information.

“It’s all you think you need to gather all the power to yourselves, don’t you? One good show of insurrection. A few hundred dead, the good citizens of London frightened half out of their wits that there will be full-fledged revolution, guillotines set up in every square.”

“You didn’t seem so squeamish when I asked you to join us.

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