FOR HER SPY ONLY
by Robyn DeHart
Masquerading Mistresses Novella 2
When Winifred is rescued from her snow-stranded carriage by the notorious and reclusive Alistair, Marquess of Coventry, she is instantly drawn to him. Jilted by her betrothed and socially ruined by untrue rumors, Winifred is tired of paying for crimes she didn’t commit and decides to play the seductress London society claims she is. Thinking a night of passion shouldn’t leave any lasting effects, she instead finds her heart marked forever. Six years later, Alistair is working for the Regent as a spy. A search for Napoleon’s English supporters leads him to the beguiling Winifred, recently widowed with a young son. He hasn’t forgotten how the unconventional beauty warmed his bed, and the heat between them rekindles immediately. The spymaster is determined to uncover all of plucky Winifred’s secrets. Especially the one regarding her son…
Read an excerpt:
She eyed her unlikely travel companion. He wasn’t a friendly sort; formidable was more what she’d consider him. He was tall and lean and imposing, but younger than she had expected. She’d heard of the Marquess of Coventry, but had never before seen him. His reputation in London was notorious. He could not be more than thirty. His cane leaned against the bench next to him, and his gloved hand held onto the gold knob on top. An ugly scar slashed across his left cheek, leading up to his eye. He looked up from his reading as if he sensed her perusal. His eyes were a startling shade of green, like the first bloom of spring after a blistering winter.
“You know I am not afraid of you,” she said. Her mother used to chastise her about her chattiness, but Winifred had a tendency to talk when she was nervous. And the marquess’s silence had her quite addled. “I don’t think it’s very intelligent to believe everything you hear about a person.”
“I see,” he said, not bothering to look up from his book.
“Oh yes, people are quite spiteful with the rumors they spread.”
“What is it that people say about me?”
She studied him for a moment, trying to gauge if he was toying with her. He must know what people said. Even the servants gossiped about him.
He looked up at her and once again she was caught in those unusual eyes. His right brow rose expectedly.
She swallowed. “That you murdered your wife.” Her voice came out weak.
“But you do not believe that,” he said.
“No, I do not.” She shook her head. “You are obviously a responsible and kind gentleman.”
“You do not know me,” he said. He set his book aside. His glove gripped the gold knob on his cane.
“No, but you stopped to assist a stranded lady. That says volumes about your character, my lord,” she said, quite pleased with her logic.
He leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. “How do you know I’m not taking you to my castle to ravish you?
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