How to Woo a Reluctant Lady Chapter One London 1825 Shortly after dawn, Giles watched from the trees as the Viscount Ravenswood, undersecretary to the Home Office, entered the boathouse on the Serpentine River in Hyde Park. When fifteen minutes had passed and no one else had come along, Giles crossed to the boathouse himself and went inside. After he and Ravenswood exchanged the usual pleasantries, the viscount said, "I hear you''re being considered for a King''s Counsel." Giles tensed. He should have known Ravenswood would find that out. The man had eyes in the back of his head. "So they tell me." "I suppose that if you''re selected, you won''t be able to continue your efforts for me.
" "King''s Counsel is a demanding position," Giles said warily. He hadn''t expected to have this conversation quite so soon. "And a very prestigious one for a barrister. Not to mention highly political. So pretending to be a scapegrace while you gather information for me won''t be very convenient anymore." "Exactly." He searched Ravenswood''s face, unable to read his stoic expression. "To be honest, whether they choose me as King''s Counsel or not, I''ve decided to stop my work for you.
Things are quieter now, and I doubt I would be--" "No need to explain, Masters. I''m surprised you continued with it this long. You''ve served your country well, with little benefit and even less pay, when you could have focused on your more lucrative position as a barrister. I don''t blame you for thinking that it''s time you consider your own career. You''re what, thirty-seven now? Certainly you''re old enough to want more out of life than doing this. And I''ll support your decision as much as possible." Giles released a long breath. He''d been dreading this conversation.
But he should have known that Ravenswood would remain his friend no matter what. He and the viscount had first met at Eton. Though the other man was three years older than Giles, they''d forged an unusual friendship, considering that Ravenswood had been sober and industrious and Giles wild and adventurous. So it was Ravenswood, already being groomed for politics, whom Giles had turned to nine years ago when he''d burned to see justice done. Ravenswood had taken the documents Giles had stolen from Newmarsh and made good use of them. Thus had begun Giles''s covert association with the Home Office and its role as keeper of the peace. It had proved fruitful for them both. From time to time, Giles had passed information on to the undersecretary that the man wouldn''t have learned any other way.
Men in the stews let all sorts of juicy details slip out around the profligate Giles Masters. After the war, the Home Office had been swamped with cases of fraud, forgery, and even treason, and with different parts of the country on the verge of revolution, it had needed all the help it could get. Occasionally Giles had actively sought out information, even from fellow noblemen. In return, Ravenswood had given him a reason for living after his father''s suicide. A way to make up for the sins of his youth. But he''d been paying for those sins quite a while now. "I suppose I don''t need to tell you that your activities must be kept secret even after you''ve . er .
retired," Ravenswood cautioned him. "You can never discuss it with anyone, never reveal--" "I know my duty," Giles broke in. That was the trouble. It was hard to have a real life when he kept secrets from everyone he knew. He was tired of keeping secrets. Tired of playing the role of hard-living rogue that had suited him once, but didn''t anymore. If he stopped his work for the government now, no one would ever be the wiser, and he could start being more himself. People would assume he''d finally grown up.
He could put these days of being an informant for the government behind him. "This will be my last report," Giles said. "Will that leave you in any kind of difficulty?" "As you might imagine, we''ll regret the loss of you. But we''ll manage. And as you say, things are quieter now." "Which is why I don''t have much to report." Giles told him of a magistrate he suspected of taking bribes and of a problem he feared was brewing with investments in South American mining companies. Ravenswood scribbled notes, asking questions where it was pertinent.
When Giles paused, he asked, "Is that all?" "Almost. There''s that favor I asked of you last month," Giles said. "Ah, yes, the one for your friend Jarret Sharpe." Ravenswood thrust his notebook in his coat pocket. "Thus far, none of my other informants have the sort of knowledge concerning Desmond Plumtree that you''re looking for. Is it possible that your friend is mistaken in his suspicions?" Ever since Jarret and Oliver had married, they''d been looking into the deaths of their parents. Jarret had asked Giles for legal advice concerning the matter, and the situation had piqued Giles''s interest. "As far as I can ascertain from Mrs.
Plumtree''s will," Giles admitted, "Desmond Plumtree had nothing to gain by killing them." "Yet that answer doesn''t satisfy you." "I can''t explain it, but Plumtree has always rubbed me wrong. If I could suspect anyone of murdering the Sharpes, it would be him." And Giles hadn''t risen as far as he had in his career as a barrister without paying heed to his instincts. "Well, I''ll let you know if anyone comes across anything pertinent. Sorry I can''t be of more help than that." With a sudden twinkle in his eye, Ravenswood reached into his coat and pulled out a newspaper.
"On a lighter note, with all your recent interest in the Sharpe family, I couldn''t resist bringing you this." Giles took the paper from him, then cast his friend a quizzical glance. "The Ladies Magazine?" "It''s my wife''s. Just came out yesterday. She read something to me from it that I thought you''d find amusing. Look at the bottom of page twenty-six." He flipped through, then sucked in a breath as he realized that it was the first chapter of Minerva''s latest gothic novel. He hadn''t known it was going to be serialized.
"Can I keep this?" "Certainly. Abby''s already done with it." Ravenswood eyed him closely. "Have you ever read her novels?" Giles went on the alert. "Have you?" "I read what''s in there. It was very interesting. There''s a character in her book who rather reminds me of you." "Is there?" he said, trying to sound bored.
Damn it all to hell. If even Ravenswood noticed . As soon as he got home, he''d have to read every word. Unbidden, an image from nine years ago rose in his mind--of the pretty young woman wearing a Marie Antoinette costume with such sweetness, it made his teeth ache to remember it. By the age of nineteen, she''d grown into a classic beauty--bow-shaped lips, thick lashes, high cheekbones. But beyond her looks, there''d been nothing classic about Minerva. He still couldn''t believe the saucy wench had plagued him about what he was doing at Newmarsh''s and then had blackmailed him into kissing her. He still couldn''t believe what had happened when he''d given her the kind of kiss meant to teach her a lesson about the dangers of tempting a rogue.
Somehow he''d forgotten she was his best friend''s sister. That he was a dissipated second son at the beginning of a shaky career, in no condition to take on a sweetheart, much less a wife. Somehow the kiss had become bigger, more dangerous . more intoxicating. She''d made him want and yearn and think the unthinkable. She still did. A pity that she hated him now. She''d made that perfectly clear in her books, laying him out on the pages in the guise of fiction, skewering him even as she circled ever nearer to his secrets.
He''d first been alerted to the problem at the Valentine''s Ball they''d both attended a few months ago. Until then, he''d never read her novels. He''d had enough trouble putting their kiss behind him without having her voice in his head. But the dance they''d shared had stoked the fire anew. They''d danced around each other in their conversation, layering innuendo upon innuendo until his blood ran hot and her remarks grew sharper, and he''d feared he might be reckless enough to do something foolish. Like whisk her out onto a balcony and kiss her senseless. After it was over, he''d been left aroused, angry, and confused. Until that night he''d assumed that she''d forgotten about him, that his callous remarks when they''d kissed had squelched anything she might have felt.
Discovering that they hadn''t had sent him to her books. And that''s when he''d discovered what Minerva was up to. He''d put off doing something about it, hoping that her grandmother''s recent demands might keep her too occupied to write anymore. But here was a new installment. He could no longer ignore the problem of Minerva. What if she started including allusions to his activities that night at Newmarsh''s town house? Anyone in the judicial system who connected him to the theft would realize he''d been the one to inform upon Newmarsh and his partner, Sir John Sully. Then it wouldn''t take much to connect him to other cases for the Home Office, and those he''d informed upon would se.