Read You Only Love Once for Free Online

Indeed, when he pulled open the door, he was nearly naked, wearing only knee breeches and dripping wet.
    â€œA fine sight for a man’s eyes!” he said, his blue eyes lighting up. “And here I’m lathered up already.”
    She laughed, stepping past him as he held the door. “That had more to do with the river than with me. You reek of dead fish.”
    He shrugged, closing the door firmly behind her. “Cold and uncaring, you are. Can you not see I’m developing a cough?” He cleared his throat twice, then forced a weak cough.
    Angelique ignored him, removing her bonnet and gloves as she moved toward the tiny sitting room. A garish yellow sofa sat right behind the door, and she laid down her bonnet before seating herself. The only other furniture in the room was a musty old leather armchair with worn spots on every horizontal surface, and an octagonal table, minus one leg. Ian must have furnished the entire flat from the castoffs of some merchant household. “Why were you in the river?”
    He followed her into the sitting room, now with a length of toweling in his hands. Unabashedly he draped the linen over his head, vigorously drying his hair. “I dropped something.” She arched a brow. He grinned. “Someone. ’Tis over. I can’t even remember what it was about, now that there’s a beautiful woman in my lodging.”
    She laughed. “I have come for sage advice.”
    â€œSage advice? You break my heart. I thought it would be more interesting, given your lovely frock.”
    Angelique didn’t smile back, and Ian’s grin vanished. He tossed the towel aside, finally serious. “What is it, then?”
    â€œI saw Stafford this morning. He sent for me about a new assignment.” There was nothing odd about that. She chose her next words carefully, though. “There is something curious about what he asks.” Again she hesitated, but Ian just raised his eyebrow and waited. “An American was in his office. He seeks a man who stole from the American government. Stafford agreed to help him find the thief so he can get the money back.”
    â€œIs that all?” Ian flipped one hand dismissively. “Can’t take more than a week, if the fellow’s in London.”
    â€œPerhaps,” she said sourly, “if the American can be persuaded to listen to me.”
    â€œAh.” Already Ian was smirking at her predicament. “Not the type, eh?”
    â€œIt does not appear so. I asked Stafford to send someone else, and he refused.”
    This time Ian laughed out loud. “Of course he did! You’re his particular favorite, love; he doesn’t trust the rest of us half as much as he trusts you.”
    â€œBe serious, Ian,” she snapped. “I do not like this job.”
    â€œWell, who would? He doesn’t send us out to smell the roses, though.” Ian cocked his head and squinted at her. “What’s so upsetting about this one? Is the American chap that bad?”
    Angelique smoothed her skirt. Stafford’s private charge to her was not to be mentioned to anyone, not even to Ian. Ian knew that she did things like this from time to time, but he never asked specifically and she never told him. Not because Ian wouldhold it against her; he himself had had a hand in some “disappearances” at Stafford’s request. But Stafford turned to her when he didn’t want anyone to suspect his involvement; he turned to Ian when he didn’t care who knew. “He is a rash fellow,” she said in response to Ian’s question about Mr. Avery. “I do not think he trusts me any more than I trust him. He will not subject his will to mine, even if he knows nothing.”
    He thought about that, then shrugged, his face relaxing. “Well,” he said. “It’s not much different from usual, is it? Stafford orders, we do. Some matter of British security or similar excuse from