worse. You subject those fragile flowers of the ton to that stare of yours, and they either want to get in your breeches or faint. Or both. The fire of your gaze, the ice of your personality, fascinates them. No wonder you had to seize on a fiancée who hadn’t met you. I don’t understand why that young woman hasn’t run from the house screaming.”
Adam snorted, but his temper began to fade, and Walpole flung his arm about Adam’s shoulders. “I meant nothing by offering you a bribe. How the hell do you think the nation runs? Corruption’s the backbone of the English system, and it’s the best in the world. Why cavil at success?”
Steady as a rock, Adam answered, “I don’t give a damn if the whole world does it, it doesn’t make it right.”
“Self-righteous bastard!” Walpole glared right into Adam’s eyes. “If you think I’m going to work my arse off for a pittance, you’re mad! Why take a government appointment if you can’t feather your nest?”
“Mayhap you should do it for Mother England,” Adam suggested.
“Mayhap you should do it for Mother England,” Walpole repeated right back at him.
Understanding came quickly. “Spy, you mean?”
As Adam’s reason returned, Walpole grew bold. “For God’s sake, man, think. If I don’t take the reins of the government, who will? The king just wants to return to his beloved home in Hanover to swive his dirt-ugly mistresses. The Tories are in total disarray. My Whigs have no well-defined leadership, and when this South Sea bubble bursts, every man and woman who bought stock will riot. You’ve been in London when the rabble riots. You know they’ll overturn the carriages of the rich and break every shop window between here and Islington.” Walpole’s earnest appeal lost nothing by being self-serving. He was right, and Adam knew it. “This rumor could be my key to the most influential post in England.”
“And it could be a chimera.”
“And it could be a chimera,” Walpole conceded. “In that case, you aren’t spying, are you?”
A disgusted smile curved Adam’s lips.
Encouraged, Walpole coaxed, “Say you’ll do it.”
Adam lowered his head. The role of spy tasted foul in his mouth, but what choice did he have? When he’d been sick unto death with the infection in his leg and the ship’s leech had threatened to amputate it, he’d thought he would never again see the green shores of England. He’d vowed to kiss the sweet earth if ever God allowed him to return. He would do anything to preservethis country, and he believed Walpole was the man to carry England to its greatest heights. Fixing Walpole with the intense stare he was still unaware of, Adam said, “I’ll do it.”
Chapter 4
“Da, let me go.” Desperate to escape, Bronwyn tugged at her hand, her ruffled silk apron fluttering about her waist.
Lord Gaynor paid no attention as he dragged her along the tended paths toward the study where Adam worked. “Ye’ll have to talk with him sooner or later, me darlin’,” he advised. “Saying ‘How de do?’ on your wedding night’s not decorous at all.”
“Maman doesn’t care,” Bronwyn protested.
“Your mother’s an excellent woman, but she’s a bit of a cold fish when it comes to matters of the heart. A little practical, if ye follow me meaning.” He stopped on the wide terrace and patted her hand. “Just leave this to your ol’ da. I’ll have Lord Rawson supping from your plate before the day is over.”
Her gaze on the open windows, she whispered, “I don’t want him supping from my plate, or even”—she groped for words—“drinking from my glass.”
“Nonsense, girl, of course ye do. Every woman wants her husband to be enthralled by her, and ye’re the only one of my girls who’s capable of such a feat.” Lord Gaynor’s booming voice made her cringe as he added, “It won’t hurt to talk to him, now will it?”
In a way, Lord Gaynor was right, but she didn’t want totalk to her
Adam snorted, but his temper began to fade, and Walpole flung his arm about Adam’s shoulders. “I meant nothing by offering you a bribe. How the hell do you think the nation runs? Corruption’s the backbone of the English system, and it’s the best in the world. Why cavil at success?”
Steady as a rock, Adam answered, “I don’t give a damn if the whole world does it, it doesn’t make it right.”
“Self-righteous bastard!” Walpole glared right into Adam’s eyes. “If you think I’m going to work my arse off for a pittance, you’re mad! Why take a government appointment if you can’t feather your nest?”
“Mayhap you should do it for Mother England,” Adam suggested.
“Mayhap you should do it for Mother England,” Walpole repeated right back at him.
Understanding came quickly. “Spy, you mean?”
As Adam’s reason returned, Walpole grew bold. “For God’s sake, man, think. If I don’t take the reins of the government, who will? The king just wants to return to his beloved home in Hanover to swive his dirt-ugly mistresses. The Tories are in total disarray. My Whigs have no well-defined leadership, and when this South Sea bubble bursts, every man and woman who bought stock will riot. You’ve been in London when the rabble riots. You know they’ll overturn the carriages of the rich and break every shop window between here and Islington.” Walpole’s earnest appeal lost nothing by being self-serving. He was right, and Adam knew it. “This rumor could be my key to the most influential post in England.”
“And it could be a chimera.”
“And it could be a chimera,” Walpole conceded. “In that case, you aren’t spying, are you?”
A disgusted smile curved Adam’s lips.
Encouraged, Walpole coaxed, “Say you’ll do it.”
Adam lowered his head. The role of spy tasted foul in his mouth, but what choice did he have? When he’d been sick unto death with the infection in his leg and the ship’s leech had threatened to amputate it, he’d thought he would never again see the green shores of England. He’d vowed to kiss the sweet earth if ever God allowed him to return. He would do anything to preservethis country, and he believed Walpole was the man to carry England to its greatest heights. Fixing Walpole with the intense stare he was still unaware of, Adam said, “I’ll do it.”
Chapter 4
“Da, let me go.” Desperate to escape, Bronwyn tugged at her hand, her ruffled silk apron fluttering about her waist.
Lord Gaynor paid no attention as he dragged her along the tended paths toward the study where Adam worked. “Ye’ll have to talk with him sooner or later, me darlin’,” he advised. “Saying ‘How de do?’ on your wedding night’s not decorous at all.”
“Maman doesn’t care,” Bronwyn protested.
“Your mother’s an excellent woman, but she’s a bit of a cold fish when it comes to matters of the heart. A little practical, if ye follow me meaning.” He stopped on the wide terrace and patted her hand. “Just leave this to your ol’ da. I’ll have Lord Rawson supping from your plate before the day is over.”
Her gaze on the open windows, she whispered, “I don’t want him supping from my plate, or even”—she groped for words—“drinking from my glass.”
“Nonsense, girl, of course ye do. Every woman wants her husband to be enthralled by her, and ye’re the only one of my girls who’s capable of such a feat.” Lord Gaynor’s booming voice made her cringe as he added, “It won’t hurt to talk to him, now will it?”
In a way, Lord Gaynor was right, but she didn’t want totalk to her
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