Read The Secret History of the Pink Carnation for Free Online Page B

got out?’
    Miles cocked his head thoughtfully, sending a lock of floppy blond hair tumbling in front of his eyes. ‘Hmm, adoring debutantes…’
    ‘Think how jealous your mistress would be,’ Richard said dryly.
    Miles flinched. His current mistress was an opera singer as well known for the range of her throwing arm as that of her voice. He had already courted concussion by flirting openly with a ballet dancer and had no desire to repeat the experience. ‘All right, all right, point taken,’ he said. ‘Oh, damnation! I promised her I would have supper with her before the opera. She’ll probably break half the dishes in the house if I’m late.’
    ‘Most of them over your head,’ commented Richard helpfully. ‘Since I prefer you with your head all in one piece, you’d better relay my assignment quickly.’
    ‘How right you are!’ Miles replied fervently. He struggled to collect himself and regain the gravity incumbent upon a representative of the War Office. ‘All right. Your assignment. We’re pretty sure that Bonaparte is using the peace to plot an invasion of England.’
    Richard nodded grimly. ‘I thought as much.’
    ‘Your job is to uncover as much as you can about his preparations. We want dates, locations and numbers, as quickly as you can get them. We’ll have a string of couriers posted from Paris to Calais to relay the information as you find it. This is it, Richard!’ Miles’s eyes glowed with sporting fervour, like a hound on the trail of a fox. ‘ The assignment. We’re relying on you to keep old Boney out of England.’
    A familiar tingle of anticipation rushed through Richard. How had Percy been able to give this up? The rush, the excitement, the challenge! Heady stuff, to know the safety of England depended upon him. Of course, Richard didn’t delude himself that he was the country’s sole hope. He knew the War Office had a good dozen spies scattered around the French capital, all striving to uncover the samethings. But he also knew without false modesty, that he was their best.
    ‘The usual code, I suppose?’ They had developed the code their first year at Eton as part of an elaborate plan to outwit their bullying proctor.
    Miles nodded. ‘You’ll leave for Paris in two weeks?’
    Richard rubbed his forehead. ‘Yes. I have some personal business to take care of – and I’ve promised my mother to squire Hen around to scare the fortune hunters away. Bonaparte should be away at Malmaison for most of next week, anyway, and I’ve left Geoff to keep an eye on things while I’m gone.’
    ‘Good man, Geoff.’ Miles rose and stretched. ‘Now if he were here, the three of us could have a bang-up night of carousing just like old times. I guess it’ll have to wait till we’ve foiled old Boney once and for all. Cry God for England, Harry, and St George, and all that.’ Miles was frantically trying to rearrange his cravat and smooth down his hair. ‘Damn. No time to stop off at home and get my valet to tidy me up. Oh well. Give Hen a kiss for me.’
    Richard shot him a sharp look.
    ‘On the cheek, man, on the cheek. God knows I’d never try anything improper with your sister. Not that she isn’t a beautiful girl and all that, it’s just, well, she’s your sister.’
    Richard clapped his friend on the shoulder in approval. ‘Well said! That’s exactly the way I want you to think of her.’
    Miles muttered something about being grateful that his sisters were a good deal older. ‘You turn into a complete bore when you’re chaperoning Hen, you know,’ he grumbled.
    Richard raised one eyebrow at Miles, a skill that had taken several months of practice in front of his mirror when he was twelve, but had been well worth the investment. ‘At least I didn’t let my sister dress me up in her petticoat when I was five.’
    Miles’s jaw dropped. ‘Who told you about that?’ he demanded indignantly.
    Richard grinned. ‘I have my sources,’ he said airily.
    Miles, not a top