Read Shana Galen for Free Online Page A

careful, he would end up alone, like Crow. He’d die a solitary old man, with no one to mourn him.
    His mother would have said he was too much like his father—absent and inattentive. He shuddered at the possibility that Elinor might follow in his mother’s footsteps and marry her groom were Winn to suffer an untimely death.
    A slight movement caught his attention, and he blinked, uncertain for a moment as to whether he was imagining things. Ghosts? But no, there was a man sitting on his garden bench, reading the forgotten novel. As Winn stared, the man looked up and gave him a jaunty wave.
    Winn cursed.
    It was Blue.
    Winn threw on a shirt, not bothering to fasten it at the throat, and made his way silently through the house and out into the garden. When he reached it, Blue signaled to him to move back into the shadows and out of sight. Once away from the house, Winn said, “What the devil are you doing here? I’ve told Melbourne time and again, I don’t like to be contacted at home.”
    “Sorry, old boy,” Blue said, fingering his frilly cravat. “It was unavoidable.”
    Like Winn, Blue was an agent for the Barbican group. These men were the best the Foreign Office had to offer, remarkable in their talents for everything from combat to code breaking to ferreting out rival spies. Winn did not know the other members of the Barbican. Out of necessity, the members of the group kept their identities secret. Occasionally, operatives worked together. He and Crow had been paired time and again. Winn had actually liked working with a partner, but he couldn’t help but think, time and again, that it might have been better if he had worked alone.
    Better for Crow as it turned out.
    “Melbourne needs to see you,” Blue said.
    Winn did not know Blue’s real name. He was a bit on the short side, at least in Winn’s opinion, but not in the least thin or scrawny, though he seemed to want to portray the air of the effete aristocrat. His movements were calculated and smooth. He had a nondescript face, nondescript hair, and startling blue eyes. Every time Winn saw those eyes, he wondered if they could be real. Winn had never seen Blue when not on assignment, so he was a bit surprised at the other agent’s yellow waistcoat replete with spangles. His wool coat appeared to be a shade of green that matched his breeches. His pumps—he must have come from a ball—were decorated with some sort of jewel.
    Winn frowned. “What are you wearing on your feet?”
    Blue, seeming unfazed by the sudden change of topic, turned the shoes this way and that. Yes, those were definitely rubies on his shoes. “Do you like them? I’m afraid they won’t fit your monstrous hooves.”
    “Thank God.”
    “As much as I enjoy standing about in cold, dark gardens discussing fashion, I am here on business.”
    “Melbourne wants to see me.”
    “Yes, first thing in the morning.”
    Winn sighed. It appeared he was unlikely to catch up on lost sleep tonight. “Very well. Anything else?”
    “Yes.” Blue held out a hand. “Give me the key.”
    Winn stepped back. “I don’t think so.” Normally, he was not so possessive of items he’d been instructed by the Barbican group to obtain, but he’d fought long and hard to hold onto this one. And obviously someone out there wanted it quite badly. He was not going to simply hand it over, not even to someone he trusted as much as Blue.
    “Melbourne wants it put away for safekeeping.”
    “Then I’ll give it to him myself in the morning.” And with it, he would take the leave he’d been promised. If nothing else, his exchanges with his wife tonight had convinced him he really did need to take a leave of absence from the Barbican group. When Elinor had mentioned Georgiana’s birthday, Winn had been momentarily taken aback. It was her birthday again? Hadn’t it been her birthday last month? And what was she now? Thirteen? Fourteen? By God, he still saw her as a three-year-old racing about the house