If He's Sinful by Hannah Howell Page A

this back to the bi—, beauteous Lady Clarissa. She is the impatient sort and quick with her nails. And her fists,” he muttered and then blushed. “Do not tell Pen that.”
    The boy was gone, Marston at his heels, before Ashton could say anything. Clarissa obviously abused her servants. The fact that he was not really surprised by that was yet another reason to escape her clutches. He had ignored far too much and was now paying the price for it.
    “If that boy is new in service to Lady Clarissa, how is it that you know him?” asked his mother.
    “He is one of the boys Lady Penelope cares for,” answered Ashton. And if she discovers Clarissa is hurting the boy, she will retaliate . Of that, Ashton was certain. Just as he was certain it would not be wise for her to do so.
    “Ah.” Lady Mary smiled and nodded.
    “What do you mean—ah?”
    “He is a spy, Ashton. I suspect your friend Lady Penelope realized that, since she cannot always have her ear to the door, it might be wise to have another spying for her. That boy will be taken places she cannot go, either because she does not have the right attire or she fears the Hutton-Moores would find out.”
    “I wonder if she knows what they are about at all. I met some of the boys but briefly yet I would not be surprised to discover they have enacted some devious plan of their own. Lady Penelope obviously knows her stepsiblings far better than I do and I sincerely doubt she would want any of her boys near them.”
    “Probably not.” Lady Mary glanced at the door. “So that was a Wherlocke. A fine-looking boy with unusual but beautiful eyes. Mayhap the rumor that claims the Wherlockes and the Vaughns are overblessed in looks is not just envy speaking.” She looked back at Ashton. “He is definitely not with your fiancée for the coin, although his looks and guile will undoubtedly gain him a pocketful.”
    “I will get the truth out of him soon as I suspect Clarissa will be taking him everywhere with her. She probably thinks it enhances her status—that of a future viscountess.”
    “That letter was a little call for you to heel, was it?”
    “Exactly. This time, however, I will answer it. She wants me to escort her to the Burnages.”
    “Ah, trade. Very successful trade, too. Every son, and even some of the daughters, from the time of the first baron seem to have the Midas touch. Undoubtedly had it before that but society paid little heed.”
    “Let us pray that a little of that rubs off on me. I have been betrothed for little more than a day and I already ache to cut the leash.” He stood up. “If you will excuse me now, I must make myself ready. She expects me to collect her within two hours.”

    The evening was only half over and Ashton already felt as if his head could hold no more advice. Burnage, and many of his companions, knew of his financial troubles and just why he was mired in debt. His embarrassment over that faded quickly, soothed away when it became clear they knew exactly whom to blame for the dire straits he and his family were in. Ashton realized they admired him for trying to find a way out of the mess and not even blinking at the thought of entering into trade, something too many of his ilk believed was beneath them.
    Lord Edward Burnage had the gruff honesty and good nature of a country squire but a keen mind to the making of a profit. Ashton did not know if it was because the man believed no son should suffer from his father’s sins, or the man’s evident dislike of the Hutton-Moores, but Burnage readily took Ashton under his wing. He also did Ashton the honor of believing the younger man understood what he was saying, respecting his intelligence.
    Ashton’s heart beat with the bright rhythm of hope for the first time in far too long. At first, his lack of money to invest in any of the schemes Burnage told him about only darkened his mood. Then Burnage gave him a suggestion that was like a ray of sunshine bursting through the dark