The Devil May Care (Brotherhood of Sinners #1) Read Online Free Page B

her tormentor by more than a head, a feat few men on earth might manage, given Lord Gargoyle’s very considerable height. That deep voice boomed from behind the dark hair, “You will show Miss Covington respect, Marquess.”
    But if the marquess was cowed in the slightest, he didn’t show it. If anything, he looked faintly amused. “Spare me the whiff of brimstone,” he commanded, extending one forefinger to push against the Giant’s chest. When the Giant failed to budge, the look of glittering amusement only increased. “Though I appreciate the reminder to observe the social niceties. So delightful, coming from you.”
    The Giant went dangerously still; his shoulders, which had been rising and falling faintly with his breathing, might have turned to granite. The cold, black eyes bored viciously into the marquess’s. It seemed impossible that Lord Gargoyle would not, within moments, be clutching a mashed and bloodied nose. If not lying on the floor with his neck snapped.
    But to her astonishment, the Giant gave a soft grunt, then took a slight step back as if to let the marquess pass.
    To her further surprise, the marquess himself now turned and sketched her a civil bow. “Forgive me, Miss Covington, for my less than gracious welcome.” His mouth twitched, though, still clearly in amusement. “If you’ll do me the courtesy of taking a seat again, I shall attempt to answer at least some of your questions.”
    She scanned his face. The fire in his gaze now seemed carefully banked, and his eyes regarded her calmly, their sky-blue centers smooth and cool as mirrors. Which was somehow more unnerving than their previous heat.
    “Thank you, Lord Hawkesbridge .” She took a seat with what grace she could muster, though a trickle of chill sweat slid down the small of her back.
    The gargoyle settled himself into a seat as well, leaning back and crossing one long leg over the other. “Your sister was my partner,” he began, and there was something proprietary in the way he said the words, something challenging, as though partner outranked sister in connection. “My partner for nearly seven years, in our work for England.” He paused, then added. “In espionage. The theft of state secrets.”
    “I know what espionage is.” She nearly said she’d read Machiavelli and Cicero and Thucydides and understood political intrigue, but sensed the gargoyle would mock her for it. “But I still don’t see how my sister became involved in such a business.”
    His sky-blue eyes flicked to the Black Giant for a moment. “How she came to work for us is not the most important question at the moment.”
    “No? Not for you, maybe, but for me—”
    “Have you considered that your sister might have preferred you not know everything about her life?”
    That stung. And she could hardly argue otherwise, since Sarah made no deliberate contact, not so much as a letter, in all the years since she’d run from home. Rachel’s hands twisted in her lap.
    “Sal,” the marquess continued with relentless calm, “posed a particular threat to a network of French spies led by a woman named Victoire de Laurent. Sal was betrayed into Victoire’s hands by a double agent, a very high-ranking English agent named Robert Ehlert. A man who was once my mentor.” The gargoyle’s handsome face hardened further, into a blank mask. “Ehlert was suborned into French service by Victoire de Laurent herself.”
    “An Englishman betrayed my sister? Why?”
    “Victoire’s talent for manipulating men is . . . extraordinary . Robert Ehlert had always seemed the most loyal and patriotic of men. Rest assured he is now dead.” Somehow his very blandness suggested the gargoyle had killed the man himself.
    Strange heat surged through Rachel’s limbs, and the strength to tear someone apart with her bare hands. “And this Victoire de Laurent? Where is she?”
    “Unknown. But she’s at the very center of the web.” He paused. “Victoire took a great risk