Kissing The Enemy (Scandals and Spies Book 1) Read Free Page B

have that confounded journal sticking out of her dress again?” Morgan asked as he squinted across the room.
    Yes, there it was. The brown leather corner of the journal his sister carried everywhere stuck out of the bulging reticule hanging from her wrist. Lucy fancied herself to be a novelist. The notebook, she insisted on keeping on hand to record various moments of inspiration as they came to her.
    “She does,” Tristan confirmed.
    “Well, at least she isn’t sequestering herself away from everyone like Gideon.”
    Tristan scanned the room for their youngest brother. The tallest of the Graylockes, he should have been easy to pick out from the crowd. If he was there. Which he wasn’t.
    “I suppose we’ll have to drag him out of the orangery again.”
    Upon completing his education, Gideon had foregone his Grand Tour and shut himself in their orangery instead to put his extensive knowledge of botany to good use by inventing a new species of orchid. He barely thought of anything that didn’t have roots and the brothers often had to remind him to eat and bathe.
    “Mother will be livid if he doesn’t make an appearance,” Morgan agreed.
    Their mother, Evelyn Graylocke, hosted the annual house party at Tenwick Abbey for one reason: to show off her children to advantage. Along with the rest of his brothers, Tristan would rather have been in the middle of a battlefield between Napoleon and the Third Coalition. However, none of the Graylocke brothers had the heart to disappoint her. Since the death of their father, the party had been one of the few things that brought her joy.
    Tristan’s heart warmed as he watched his mother greet the newly arrived guests, a wide smile of genuine happiness on her face. She chatted with each new arrival before sending them off to mingle with the other guests or turning them over to one of the many footmen who would lead them to their rooms.
    The whole of Tenwick Abbey, the expansive, centuries-old monastery that the Graylockes had called home for nearly twelve generations, had been aired out for the party. The granite stones scrubbed, the carved mahogany polished, the twenty fireplaces cleaned and stocked with wood. The maids had laundered enough linens and towels to paper the walls of the abbey from floor to ceiling twice over. Under his mother’s supervision, the entire east wing had been reorganized into comfortable accommodations for the two-week-long affair.
    “Operating with all these guests underfoot will be a nightmare.” Tristan gritted his teeth to keep from making a face at the thought.
    Even if all parties in the war had entered into a shaky truce or fled home to lick their wounds, in the case of the Russians, the war was far from over. Britain and France had entered into an economic stalemate. Britain held command of the trade routes by sea; Napoleon held most of the continent. Times like these, in the lull between battles, was when Tristan’s job was most important.
    Morgan’s, too, though Tristan was loathe to admit it. The one thing Tristan could do that Morgan couldn’t was enter the field to spy. Tristan could afford to take risks. Morgan, as Duke, could not. But, with so much information to comb through, his contribution to the spying network was invaluable. Without Morgan, Tristan wouldn’t be in possession of the book he was tasked with passing along.
    Morgan ran his hand over the railing, his face impassive. “Mother will expect us to attend most of the activities.”
    Games, contests, dinners, and balls. And all while under the scrutiny of vicious ton gossips and matchmaking mamas. Oh, joy.
    “We can’t let that deter us.”
    Morgan nodded, shifting his gaze to Tristan’s face.
    “Where is the book now?” Although they stood alone on the balcony to the family’s private wing, he whispered.
    Tristan rolled his eyes. “Safe.”
    “We must get it into the right hands before the war turns.” Morgan pressed his lips together.
    “Passing it off beneath