My Earl the Spy Read Online Free

young fop would ever fight back; he would have a constant reminder of that lapse of judgement for the remainder of his days.
    The scream he had uttered had been caused by the pain ripping through his cheek, and he had stumbled backwards. Everything had happened fast: the light extinguished and a gunshot went off. He had stumbled to the opening of the cave a few steps behind Claude close enough to see Claude sending one of the nobs sprawling across the sand with one of his punches.
    Joshua had used the diversion to head towards the cliff path. There was enough moonlight to see the excise man at the bottom of the path, and he had climbed up to the pathway from the beach, avoiding the officer. It had cost him greatly to remain quiet and move carefully when all he wanted to do was roll on the ground and writhe in agony, but he realised his life was in the balance. If he was caught there was no doubt he would hang.
    Keeping to the shadows he had headed down the drive of the house, heading inland. It was clear from the lights appearing in the house that the commotion was waking its residents. The explosion on the beach even made Joshua pause; things were not going as planned, and the sooner he left the coast behind the better.
    He had almost collapsed as daylight approached. He saw a farm cart trundling down the lane he was walking. He had to keep away from the main turnpike lest he be spotted by one of the excise men. It would be common knowledge by now that he was injured. The blood on his clothing would cause suspicion in the most gullible of minds.
    He waved the cart to a halt and held onto the side of it for support. “I’ve been robbed, sir. I need help,” he uttered before falling to the ground in a faint.
    When he awoke, he was in a bed. The straw mattress was not the most comfortable he had slept on, but it was better than any prison cell would have supplied. He was able to spin a convincing story to the farmer and his wife, who listened with horror at his tale. Seven miles inland, they had not heard anything about what had happened on the Dorset beach the previous evening, and it was likely it would be weeks before they did.
    They tried to persuade him to have a doctor called for, but he refused. Looking in the mirror, he could see the horror that was his face and knew that without help the scar would look horrific for the rest of his days. It was a sacrifice he would have to make. A doctor moved around the area far more than two peasant farmers did, and he would be at risk of discovery.
    He stayed with the farmer and his wife for two weeks; when he could move around without too much pain, it was time to move on. He paid them for their kindness to him and left them, promising to let them know how he fared while knowing full well he would never be in touch with them again.
    Travelling slowly and mainly at night, it took days before he arrived in London. There he had to arrange for someone to visit his lodgings in the dead of night and retrieve his worldly goods. Setting up a room in an even more undesirable area of London had been necessary. All pretence of being a gentleman who had fallen on hard times was gone. He now looked like the rogue he was.
    Time had passed before he made contact with those who had been in on the organisation of the operation for landing French assassins on English soil. Everyone was laying low whilst the furore and searches were going on as a result of some of the men talking.
    He had found out that Claude had killed himself by causing the explosion on the beach. Joshua had some sympathy with that; the man probably could see how things were unfolding and did not wish to hang. Most of Joshua’s acquaintances were now either swinging from the gallows or had been transported. It was a dark time for Joshua.
    The whole situation was made worse by the fact that he had heard about the wedding of Clara and Edmund and was fully aware of when Charles was to marry his sweetheart. Joshua was totally