For Her Spy Only (Entangled Scandalous) Read Free Page A

people.” He laced his fingers with hers. “But I am still a man and when a beautiful woman offers herself to me, I shall gladly accept.”

Chapter One
    June 1814, six years later
    Alistair Devlin, accused murderer, recluse, master code-breaker, and secret spy for the Crown of England, loathed the bustle and noise of the city. Two weeks ago, when fellow members of the Seven, the elite group of spies working to uncover a traitor who’d infiltrated the English government, had brought him Lord Comfry’s journal, Alistair had assumed he’d be able to decipher the code quickly.
    Despite Alistair’s usual ease with codes, this one was proving more challenging, and he had yet to decode the murdered man’s journal. The worst part of these two weeks was that he had spent them in London. There were far too many people, not to mention the stench from the streets permeated the air, but the worst part was the ignorance of nearly everyone around him.
    Alistair was quite accustomed to being the most intelligent man in the room. It had been this way since he’d been a young man, and he had never had an easy time at accepting the mental limitations of others. He had no patience for idiots.
    The good news was, he finally realized why he’d struggled with this particular code.
    He’d been approaching the code incorrectly. He had been using every code he’d collected since he began working for the Crown. He’d finally realized that the code was actually rather simple and the random numbers and letters were, in fact, latitude and longitude coordinates. He needed only the help of Sir Reginald Mirren, the royal cartographer.
    He tapped his cane on the top of his Hessian boot and waited for the carriage to stop. He had only made the acquaintance of Sir Reginald Mirren on a handful of occasions; the man was the best cartographer in London. He’d been commissioned by the King to make a series of maps, and it was these maps that Alistair needed to uncover Comfry’s hidden message. If Alistair was correct in his estimation, Sir Mirren would have, on hand, all of the maps necessary.
    Finally the carriage rolled to a stop and Alistair exited the rig. The brick townhome was modest, reaching to three stories with a faded black door that boasted a brass number three on it. This was the address he had for Sir Mirren. He marched himself up the front steps to the stoop and slammed the brass knocker onto the door.
    Several seconds passed and Alistair was beginning to think that no one was home, but then voices sounded from the other side of the door. He couldn’t understand their words, but knew that more than one person spoke. Suddenly the door opened.
    “How may I help y—” The words died on her lips as she looked up at him. “Alistair, er, my lord? How did you—? That is, why are you—? What are you doing here?”
    “Winifred Wilmington.” He let his eyes roam the length of her. She looked the same, though perhaps more tempting with her face flushed from exertion. What precisely had she been doing behind that door only moments before? “I could ask you those same questions. I am here to see Sir Mirren.”
    She exhaled in one quick puff and opened the door wider. “Please come in.”
    He followed her inside and she led him to a door down the corridor on the left. As they entered the room, it was quite evident that this was Sir Mirren’s study. That didn’t explain what Winifred was doing here. He hadn’t seen her in…it had to have been six years, since that fateful Christmas Eve he’d found her stranded in her carriage, trapped in the snow. They’d spent several days locked in his castle making love. And then—after the snow melted, making travel safe once more—she’d left and he’d never heard from her again. Which suited him just fine since he had no room in his life for females. Not since Sarah.
    She sat behind the desk and motioned for him to sit adjacent to her.
    “There is no delicate way to say this. I’m afraid