The Scarlet Spy Read Free

effort to possess. Osborne sighed. Having breezed through his studies at Oxford with the highest academic honors, he ought to be smart enough to figure out the cause of his malaise. But somehow it defied all logic. By any rational measure, he had everything a man could want. Yet something essential seemed missing.
    Catching a glimpse of himself in the windowpane, he stared for a moment at the smudged glass. Fair hair, blue eyes, classically chiseled features that many ladies were wont to describe as angelic. He knew he was a great favorite of the
ton,
a sought-after guest at any entertainment. His face was considered highly attractive, his conversation highly amusing, and his manner highly engaging, to both men and women alike. Such qualities, coupled with a perfect pedigree, opened any door in Polite Society.
    Handsome. Witty. Charming.
Whispering the words aloud left a stale taste in his mouth. It all sounded so shallow. Skin deep, rather than having any real substance.
    The vision suddenly dissolved in the pelter of a passing rain shower. What was the true reflection of who he was?
    Closing his eyes, Osborne pressed his fingertips to his temples and thought about how he was spending his time. At the moment, the few hours a week that he spent reviewing military documents for Army Intelligence was the most rewarding part of his life. The challenge kept boredom at bay. Perhaps his friend on Burrand’s general staff could be persuaded to give him more work.
    The idea helped him shake off his melancholy musing. There was a good chance he would encounter Major Fenimore at the ball this evening. If not, he could always stop by White’s on the way home.
     
    “This is a rather unusual situation.” Mrs. Merlin took a moment to pour a cup of tea before opening her notebook.
    “That is one way of putting it.” Lynsley went to stand by the hearth. But despite the blazing fire, he could not dispel the chill in his blood. “The duke approached me on a purely personal basis. We have known each other for years, and though he has no notion of my true duties at Whitehall, he thought that I might be able to advise him off the record on what he should do.”
    “At first blush, the death of his grandson from an overdose of opium appears to be a personal tragedy and not a matter of government concern.”
    The marquess nodded. “I thought the same thing, despite Sterling’s insistence that the young man had discovered some sinister forces at work here in London.”
    “Grief can stir up strange imaginings,” said the headmistress softly as she began jotting a few notes. With her mild manners and ruffled silks, she presented a picture of matronly propriety—save for the point of a razor-sharp poniard peeking out from beneath her cuff.
    “Indeed,” agreed Lynsley. “Still, I made a few informal inquiries, thinking that if I found any evidence of foul play, I could ease a bit of his pain by helping to bring the miscreants to justice.”
    Mrs. Merlin’s pen hovered over the page. “And?”
    He blew out his breath. “And I fear there may be some truth to his accusations.” Coals crackled in the hearth as he contemplated the flare of flames. “There is an old adage—where there is smoke, there is fire. In this case, a visit to several opium dens favored by the
ton
turned up some very unsettling information. Lord Robert Woolsey was not the first gentleman to die under suspicious circumstances. Seven have perished over the past six months, including a diplomat from Antwerp and an envoy from Venice.”
    “Unsettling indeed, but still not something that your branch of the government has any authority to handle. It seems more a matter for the local magistrates than our Merlins.” She paused for a fraction. “However, if this were simply a sordid story of drugs and debauchery, you would not be here telling it.” A tiny smile momentarily softened the pinch of her mouth. “Much as I enjoy your company for tea, Thomas, I am aware that