Randall's Romance (Behind Closed Doors) Read Online Free
Author: Lee Brazil
at the scene of Trenton and Darby's murder, but he'd encountered someone else who clearly enjoyed a bit of the same sort of sport that he himself liked to while away his leisure time with.
Not that he had time for that very often in his line of work. The men he seduced in the line of duty weren't always the best or most considerate of lovers. He didn't in general care, as long as they talked in their sleep or could be coaxed into sharing secrets whilst in their cups.
All that had changed just a month before when his entire squad had been decimated overnight, he'd been well aware that there was a traitor somewhere in the ranks of the home office. Not knowing who to trust, he'd returned home determined to find the man selling English secrets to the French. From what he'd discovered so far, Gravesend was too stupid to be the mastermind, but he was involved.
This Robin Hood, though, he'd struck Jason as a man of intelligence and discretion. Might he be the spy in their midst? Why else would he have entered Gravesend's library as though he belonged there? Then again, why, if he were the mastermind, would he leave the study without so much as questioning Jason's presence?
Scowling derisively at his own inane thoughts, Jason slipped out through the French doors in the ballroom and made his way through the gardens to the mews. If he were going to question the motives of the man in the library, wouldn't it make more sense to wonder why he'd been so sexually aggressive? Surely that assignation with the unseen Terence had been the man's reason for being there. Playing along had gotten him out of the room and the house without question and he could damn well accept that stroke of good fortune.
The man's touch had been sure and knowing, and almost Jason wished he were Terence or that he'd had some way of finding the fellow again. When all this is done ...he promised himself. When justice and revenge are served up with an equal hand, then you can come back and scour the ballrooms for a muscular Corinthian who smells of bay rum and wears Hessians. The challenge will keep you occupied while your uncle and the cousins who don't know you exist continue to ignore your existence.
The information he'd found in Gravesend's desk had been minimal, but it was sufficient to confirm that he needed to head back to Devon and cut off the route of information out of the country. When that had been attended to, he could turn his mind to the best way to dispose of Gravesend and undercover the man's master.
In the alley behind the mews, he threw off the black domino that had effectively concealed his face and rolled it into a compact package. It might come in handy for skulking around in Devon.
He returned to his rooming house unchallenged, and swiftly packed his bag. His traveling options had broadened since he'd discovered a bit of the ready in Gravesend's desk. Originally Jason had intended to travel to Devon by mail coach, a tedious and lengthy journey scrunched up in a coach with a multitude of other travelers who weren't always as meticulous about their persons as Jason preferred his companions to be.
Now, with this largesse, he could purchase a horse and ride in style, increasing both the speed and comfort of his journey. The funds wouldn't run to a quality beast from Tattersall's of course, but it would quite easily purchase him a functional and sturdy beast at any of a number of lesser dealers. There was, he thought, a poetic sort of justice to using Gravesend's ill begotten funds to perpetrate his revenge.
The sun had scarcely risen in the sky before he was in the saddle, heading out of town.
Chapter Three
The twinge of pain in his ankle had long since turned to a raging throb barely contained by the tight leather of his boot. It was his own damn fault for letting himself be distracted by the sheer beauty of the countryside in which he walked. Devon held more beauty than any other place. It was both stark and rich, and in
Not that he had time for that very often in his line of work. The men he seduced in the line of duty weren't always the best or most considerate of lovers. He didn't in general care, as long as they talked in their sleep or could be coaxed into sharing secrets whilst in their cups.
All that had changed just a month before when his entire squad had been decimated overnight, he'd been well aware that there was a traitor somewhere in the ranks of the home office. Not knowing who to trust, he'd returned home determined to find the man selling English secrets to the French. From what he'd discovered so far, Gravesend was too stupid to be the mastermind, but he was involved.
This Robin Hood, though, he'd struck Jason as a man of intelligence and discretion. Might he be the spy in their midst? Why else would he have entered Gravesend's library as though he belonged there? Then again, why, if he were the mastermind, would he leave the study without so much as questioning Jason's presence?
Scowling derisively at his own inane thoughts, Jason slipped out through the French doors in the ballroom and made his way through the gardens to the mews. If he were going to question the motives of the man in the library, wouldn't it make more sense to wonder why he'd been so sexually aggressive? Surely that assignation with the unseen Terence had been the man's reason for being there. Playing along had gotten him out of the room and the house without question and he could damn well accept that stroke of good fortune.
The man's touch had been sure and knowing, and almost Jason wished he were Terence or that he'd had some way of finding the fellow again. When all this is done ...he promised himself. When justice and revenge are served up with an equal hand, then you can come back and scour the ballrooms for a muscular Corinthian who smells of bay rum and wears Hessians. The challenge will keep you occupied while your uncle and the cousins who don't know you exist continue to ignore your existence.
The information he'd found in Gravesend's desk had been minimal, but it was sufficient to confirm that he needed to head back to Devon and cut off the route of information out of the country. When that had been attended to, he could turn his mind to the best way to dispose of Gravesend and undercover the man's master.
In the alley behind the mews, he threw off the black domino that had effectively concealed his face and rolled it into a compact package. It might come in handy for skulking around in Devon.
He returned to his rooming house unchallenged, and swiftly packed his bag. His traveling options had broadened since he'd discovered a bit of the ready in Gravesend's desk. Originally Jason had intended to travel to Devon by mail coach, a tedious and lengthy journey scrunched up in a coach with a multitude of other travelers who weren't always as meticulous about their persons as Jason preferred his companions to be.
Now, with this largesse, he could purchase a horse and ride in style, increasing both the speed and comfort of his journey. The funds wouldn't run to a quality beast from Tattersall's of course, but it would quite easily purchase him a functional and sturdy beast at any of a number of lesser dealers. There was, he thought, a poetic sort of justice to using Gravesend's ill begotten funds to perpetrate his revenge.
The sun had scarcely risen in the sky before he was in the saddle, heading out of town.
Chapter Three
The twinge of pain in his ankle had long since turned to a raging throb barely contained by the tight leather of his boot. It was his own damn fault for letting himself be distracted by the sheer beauty of the countryside in which he walked. Devon held more beauty than any other place. It was both stark and rich, and in
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