THE ROGUE
“Once you’ve read a Liar’s Club book, you crave the next in the series. Bradley knows how to hook a reader with wit, sensuality (this one has one of the hottest hands-off love scenes in years!) and a strong plot along with the madness and mayhem of a Regency-set novel.
—RT BOOKclub Magazine
“Bradley continues her luscious Liar’s Club series with another tale of danger and desire, and as always her clever prose is imbued with wicked wit.”
—Booklist
“Celeste Bradley’s The Liar’s Club series scarcely needs an introduction, so popular it’s become with readers since its inception . . . Altogether intriguing, exciting, and entertaining, this book is a sterling addition to the Liar’s Club series.”
—Road to Romance
TO WED A SCANDALOUS SPY
“Warm, witty, and wonderfully sexy.”
—Teresa Medeiros, New York Times bestselling author
“Funny, adventurous, passionate, and especially poignant, this is a great beginning to a new series . . . Bradley mixes suspense and a sexy love story to perfection.”
—RT BOOKclub Magazine
“A wonderful start to a very looked-forward-to new series . . . once again showcases Celeste Bradley’s talent of creating sensual and intriguing plots filled with memorable and endearing characters . . . A non-stop read.”
—Romance Reader at Heart
“Danger, deceit, and desire battle with witty banter and soaring passion for prominence in this highly engrossing tale . . . Bradley also provides surprises galore, both funny and suspenseful, and skillfully ties them all in neatly with the romance so as to make this story more than averagely memorable.”
—Road to Romance
MORE . . .
“A fantastic read . . . Bradley successfully combines mystery, intrigue, romance, and intense sensuality into this captivating book.”
—Romance Junkies
THE CHARMER
“Amusing, entertaining romance.”
—Booklist
“Bradley infuses this adventure with so much sexual tension and humor that you’ll be enthralled. You’ll laugh from the first page to the last . . . The wonderful characters, witty dialogue, and clever plot will have you wishing you were a Liar too.”
—RT BOOKclub Magazine
THE SPY
“Only a clever wordsmith can make this complex, suspenseful tale work so perfectly. Bradley pulls us into the wonderful world of the Liar’s Club and gives us a nonstop read brimming with puzzle after puzzle.”
—RT BOOKclub Magazine
“With its wonderfully witty writing, superbly matched protagonists, and intrigue-steeped plot, the third of Bradley’s Liars Club historicals is every bit as much fun as The Pretender and The Impostor.”
—Booklist
“A must for readers of the Liar’s Club series and a good bet for those who haven’t yet started . . . I unhesitatingly recommend.”
—All About Romance
“Ms. Bradley has an effortless style to her prose.”
—The Romance Reader
“A Top Pick . . . the best of [the Liar’s Club] so far. Bless Celeste Bradley . . . She just seems to get better at it as she goes along.”
—Romance Reader at Heart
THE IMPOSTOR
“Bradley carefully layers deception upon deception, keeping the intrigue level high and the tone bright . . . Readers will race through this delightful comedy of errors and eagerly anticipate the next installment.”
— Publishers Weekly
“With delicious characters and a delectable plot, Bradley delivers another enticing read brimming with the mayhem and madness that come with falling in love when you least expect it. The devilishly funny double identities, witty dialogue and clever twists will captivate.”
—RT BOOKclub Magazine (Top Pick)
“Don’t miss this second book of the Liar’s Club series. With humor, passion and mystery, it’s absolutely delightful in every way! I can’t wait for the next one.
—Old Book Barn and Gazette
THE PRETENDER
“Totally entertaining.”
—New York Times bestselling author Julia Quinn
“An engaging, lusty tale, full of adventure and loaded with charm.”
—Gaelen Foley, USA Today bestselling author of Lord of Ice
“Bursting with adventure and sizzling, Bradley certainly knows how to combine engaging characters with excitement, sensuality, and a strong plot.”
—Booklist(starred)
“Bursting with adventure and sizzling passion to satisfy the most daring reader.”
—RT BOOKclub Magazine
“A charming heroine and a dashing spy hero make The Pretender a riveting read . . . [E]ntertained me thoroughly from beginning to end.”
—Sabrina Jeffries, USA Today bestselling author
of After the Abduction
ST. MARTIN’S PAPERBACKS TITLES
BY CELESTE BRADLEY
One Night with a Spy
Surrender to a Wicked Spy
To Wed a Scandalous Spy
The Rogue
The Charmer
The Spy
The Impostor
The Pretender
Seducing
the
Spy
Book Four in the Royal Four series
Celeste Bradley
NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
This book is dedicated to my dear friend and fellow writer,
Cheryl Lewallen. Friends like you don’t come along often
enough in a lifetime.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
SEDUCING THE SPY
Copyright © 2006 by Celeste Bradley.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
ISBN: 0-312-93967-1
EAN: 9780312-93967-0
Printed in the United States of America
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / August 2006
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Every ruler needs a few men he can count on to tell him the truth—whether he wants to hear it or not.
Created in the time of the Normans, when King William the Conqueror found himself overrun with “advisors” more concerned with their own agendas than with the good of the whole, the Quatre Royale were selected from the King’s own boyhood friends. Lords all, and bound by loyalty rather than selfish motives, these four men took on the names of ruthless predators while acting as the Quatre, keeping their lives and identities separate from their true roles . . .
. . . to act as the shield of deceit and the sword of truth in the name of the King.
Courageous as the Lion
Deadly as the Cobra
Vigilant as the Falcon
Clever as the Fox
The appointment is for life—the commitment absolute. Bonds of family, friends and even love become as insubstantial as a dream when each hand-selected apprentice takes the seat of the master. All else is merely pretense, kept for the sake of
secrecy and anonymity. For it is true that the iron bars of duty cage the hearts and souls of . . .
. . . THE ROYAL FOUR.
I would like to acknowledge the hard work contributed by some people we could not do without—our teachers. Many thanks to the creative and committed women and men who help us raise better human beings.
Seducing
the
Spy
Prologue
ENGLAND, 1813
Lord Wyndham,
I am writing to you because you appear to be a somewhat lesser idiot than other gentlemen. The gossip sheets have made much of your cousin Lady Jane Pennington’s marriage to a common gambler, yet you continue to acknowledge her, exhibiting excellent judgment for one of your species.
Therefore I choose to trust you with something which has recently come to my attention. I believe there is a plot against the Crown brewing at this moment, the details of which I shall delineate on the following pages.
What you do with this information concerns me not at all. I do not care to further waste my time on the affairs of men.
Lady Alicia Lawrence
1
Stanton Horne, eleventh Marquis of Wyndham, member of the Royal Four—cadre of the most powerful men in England—esteemed scholar of historical documents, and a damned handsome bloke to boot, looked down at the mess on the floor of his grand hallway and bit back a helpless sigh.
“I’m sorry, milord,” the servant said quickly. “I’ll clean that up right away, milord. So sorry, milord!” Stanton’s stammering footman backed away from him rather like one would back away from a dangerous man-eating beast. Stanton raised a hand carefully to make an easing gesture, but the man squeaked and paled anyway. “S-sorry, milord!”
Stanton gave up. There was no reasoning with some people. He’d only meant to apologize to the fellow for rounding the corner of the hall so suddenly and sending his own tea crashing to the floor. Now, the footman would doubtless carry tales of a close call with the master’s notorious temper, and of escaping a blow by the nearest margin.
The fact that he’d never raised his voice in this house in his considerably exact memory seemed to have no effect on the awe that his own dependents held him in.
Yes, he could be a demanding master. True, he was not one to socialize with . . . well, anyone, actually. Still, he considered himself a fair and equable fellow, not a great hairy beast who frightened beardless young footmen out of their wits and—apparently—their ability to carry a tea tray.
“Young man—”
“Dobbins, milord!”
“Yes, Dobbins, of course.” Stanton took another calming breath. “When you’ve done here, I would appreciate another tea tray shortly.”
The man dropped to his knees as if he’d ducked a bullet and began to frantically gather the broken crockery. His hands shook so badly that the dripping shards flung droplets of tea onto Stanton’s boots.
The fellow nearly fainted at that. “Milord! Oh, milord, I—”
Stanton could bear it no longer. He turned on his heel and strode away. Nothing useful would happen while he was present anyway. It seemed all that was required to send his household into spasms of terror was for him to walk into a room of his own house!
It was always thus. Wherever he went, mothers urged their children from his path and even the most belligerent of men averted their gazes. No amount of careful grooming seemed to erase their impression that he was actually a foul and frightening ogre.
It was enough to give a fellow self-doubts.
So perhaps he’d been a mite tense lately. Why wouldn’t he be, when the mightiest spy England had ever faced had escaped him and his fellow members of the Royal Four yet again? True, at least this time the Chimera had come out somewhat the worse for wear, scarred and run to earth, hiding from their search efforts, only one step ahead of their best men.
The thought of the evil French nobleman—who had passed among them so easily as a young Cockney valet for so long—hurting and run ragged was a pleasing notion, but what Stanton truly wanted was to have the man’s cold dead body laid out in front of him.
Alas, that cherished hope was proving difficult to fulfill. Though the Chimera’s talent for disguises had been destroyed with the slashing of his face, there was nothing wrong with the man’s brilliant mind.
Furthermore, the war against Napoleon had come to a troubled standoff with both sides taking heavy losses. Swords drawn at each other’s throats, England and France currently stood equal, each uneasily waiting for some factor to tip the balance.
Thus the ample excuse for Stanton’s touchy behavior lately. He was simply a bit . . . tightly wound.
As he walked away, he heard another footman join the first. Their dread-heightened whispers carried clearly down the hall.
“ ’Imself ‘as been a right terror these past weeks, ain’t ’e?”
Dobbins grunted in agreement. “I thought I was a goner, I did!”
“If he was t’ask me, I’d tell him to find himself a woman, I would. Bloke needs to let steam before ’e blows!”
“Won’t ’appen. The master’s not likely to find a bird who wouldn’t run screaming from them cold eyes! Ain’t no lady I’ve ever seen got the heart for someone like that bleak bastard!”
Bleak bastard? That was a new one. Colorful, if a bit alliterative. Stanton found he rather preferred it to “demon’s spawn” and “ice-cold devil.” He continued on his way without comment. What good would punishing them for their disrespect do him but create yet more fear?
Still, as he settled into his study to await the next version of his tea tray, it was hard to shake that last comment.
“Ain’t no lady I’ve ever seen got the heart for someone like that.”
Unfortunately, that appeared to be precisely the case, although not for quite the reason the footman assumed. If his presence ignited fear in the sturdy East End souls of his staff, it was nothing to what his presence did to the tender sensibilities of lovely and eligible young Society ladies.
Not that he was without fault there. He was not a smooth and flirtatious fellow, nor was he able to set ladies at ease with humorous anecdotes—for he could never think of any at the necessary moments. His lack of the pretty conversation that women set such store by did nothing to dissuade them of his reputedly sinister nature.
Still, what did it matter? Stanton had given up on women a long time ago and found himself better off.
The very last thing he needed in his complicated existence was a woman.
The door knocker rapped sharply three times, sending a resounding noise through the largely silent house. Stanton started, for he was unaccustomed to the sound. Voices came from the front hall through his partially open study door.
“I wish to see Lord Wyndham.” A woman’s voice, clear and strong. “He wishes to see me as well. He simply doesn’t know it yet.”
“I’m sorry, madam.” The butler’s tone was frigid. “His lordship is not inclined to be at home to uninvited guests.”
Stanton twisted his lips. He rarely had guests at all, invited or otherwise, which was why the knock on his front door was such an unusual occurrence. Fortunately, Grimm wasn’t the sort to disobey strict orders. The person would be gone in moments and Stanton would be able to return to his work.
“I cannot see that he is all that busy. He is sitting in his study, staring at the ceiling. I know because I looked through the window before I knocked.”
Grimm, the most ruthless butler money could buy, was reduced to sputtering at such a scandalous statement. Stanton found his own well-cultivated curiosity was aroused. He rose to his feet, drawn by his own need to know. Who was that making such a commotion in his front hall? He leaned partway through his study door.
She was somewhat less than tall and very oddly dressed. Her shapeless gown was too long and dragged the ground, as evidenced by the street muck that the hem was now transferring to his own carpets. Her head was crowned with a hat several decades out of
date, which sported a heavy veil that hid her profile.
An unworthy supplicant, Stanton had no doubt. Grimm would handle it.
He moved to step back into his study. Her head snapped around and he could nearly feel the glare piercing that dark veil.
“There you are,” she snapped at him. “Tell your man to let me in at once. I must speak to you.” Her voice at least was cultured and melodic, despite the irritated bite of it. She was entirely odd, with her commanding manner and her bizarre appearance.
Grimm sent him an agonized look. “She refuses to identify herself, my lord.” Grimm looked as though another minute of the creature’s company would cost him a major portion of his sanity.
Stanton decided there was no need to cause the butler to have some sort of apoplectic fit. It was hard enough for Wyndham House to keep good help as it was.
The fact that his growing curiosity was doing much to ease his bout of restless dissatisfaction had nothing to do with his decision.
He bowed to the woman and waved his hand to another door. “If you would do me the great favor of awaiting me in the green parlor, I shall be happy to attend you in just a moment.”
She didn’t curtsy back, or make any of the usual social noises. Instead, her veil remained facing him for a long moment.
“If you think I will simply leave eventually, you are quite mistaken,” she said flatly. “I have no pressing plans for the rest of the day. In fact, I have no pressing plans for the rest of my life, so I would advise you to adhere to your word and take no more than a moment.”
With that, she turned briskly and put herself in the green parlor, unassisted by Grimm, who was surprisingly slow on the take.
“Hmm.” While the woman might appear to be an escapee from Bedlam, she more sounded like a short-tempered army captain. Stanton slid a glance to Grimm, who was staring after the woman with a mixture of glowering hatred and— unbelievably, since Grimm bowed to no one but him—a tinge of respect.
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