Worth Any Price Read Online Free Page B

please me most is to have a drink, and to find company with some delightful temptress.”
    “I have an exceptional Longueville Armagnac,” the earl muttered, clearly eager to escape Nick’s company.
    “That would be most welcome.”
    “Good. I’ll send a servant to fetch you a glass.” Westcliff turned and began to stride away.
    “And the temptress?” Nick persisted, smothering a laugh at the way the man’s back stiffened.
    “That, Sydney, is something you will have to obtain for yourself.”
    As the earl left the terrace, Nick allowed himself a swift grin. So far he was playing the part of spoiled young nobleman with great success. He had managed to annoy the earl beyond bearing. Actually, he rather liked Westcliff, recognizing the same hard-driven will and cynicism that he himself possessed.
    Thoughtfully Nick left the terrace and wandered down to the gardens, which had been designed with both enclosed and open spaces, providing countless pockets of intimacy. The air was dense with thesmells of heather and bog myrtle. Ornamental birds trapped in an aviary chirped wildly at his approach. To most it was doubtless a cheerful clamor, but to Nick the ceaseless trills made a desperate sound. He was tempted to open the door and set the damned things free, but it would have little effect, as their wings had been clipped. Stopping at the riverside terrace, he surveyed the dark sparkling flow of the Itchen River, the moonlight that washed through swaying filaments of willow and clusters of beech and oak.
    The hour was late. Perhaps Charlotte was inside the house. Casually exploring his surroundings, Nick wandered to the side of the manor, a residence built of honey-colored stone and cornered with four towers that reached six stories in height. It was fronted with a distinctively large courtyard sided with stabling, a laundry, and low buildings to house the servants. The front of the stables had been designed to mirror the chapel on the other side of the courtyard.
    Nick was fascinated by the magnificence of the stables, unlike anything he had seen before. He entered through one of the ground-floor archways and found a covered court hung with gleaming harnesses. A pleasant mixture of smells filled the air; horses, hay, leather, and polish. There was a marble drinking fountain for horses at the back of the court, sided by separate entrances to the horse stalls. Nick walked across the stone-flagged floor with the light,almost soundless step that was habitual for all Bow Street runners. Despite his quietness, horses shuffled and snorted warily at his approach. Glancing through the archway, Nick discovered rows of stalls filled by at least five dozen horses.
    It seemed that the stables were empty save for the animals, and Nick left through the west entrance. Immediately he was confronted with an ancient ironstone wall almost six feet high. There was no doubt that it had been built to protect unwary visitors from falling over the steep bluff overlooking the river below. Nick stopped in his tracks at the unexpected sight of a small, slim figure poised atop the wall. It was a woman, standing so still that at first glance he thought she was a statue. But a breeze stirred the hem of her skirts and teased a lock of pale blond hair free of her loose topknot.
    Fascinated, he drew closer, his gaze riveted on her.
    Only a reckless fool would balance on that uneven wall, with certain death awaiting if she lost her footing. She did not seem to recognize the fatal drop looming before her. The tilt of her head indicated that she was staring straight ahead, at the night-darkened horizon. What in God’s name was she doing? Two years earlier, Nick had seen a man standing with that peculiar stillness just before he had jumped to his death from a bridge over the Thames.
    As Nick’s gaze raked over her, he saw that the hem of her long skirt was caught beneath her heel. The sight spurred him into action. Moving forwardin a few stealthy strides, he