A Most Unsuitable Groom
BECKET HALL, ROMNEY MARSH
August 1813
Ainsley Becket sighed, then removed the spectacles he'd lately found necessary for reading and tossed both them and the letter on the desktop. "Well, I'll say this for the boy. They didn't execute him."
"Execute him? Our Spencer? Our so mild, even-tempered Spencer committed a hanging offense? Imagine that. I know I can." Courtland Becket reached for the letter that had taken several months to arrive at Becket Hall, most of them, judging from the condition of the single page, spent being walked to Romney Marsh stuck to the bottom of someone's boot. "What did he do, get caught bedding the General's wife?"
"If it were only that simple," Ainsley said, getting to his feet to walk over to the large table where he kept a collection of maps he consulted almost daily, tracking the English wars with both Bonaparte and the Americans. "He's in some benighted spot called Brownstown, or he was when that letter was written, nearly five months ago. From reports I've read in the London papers, if he's still there he's in the thick of considerable trouble."
"Sweet Jesus," Courtland s ... read full excerpt from: A Most Unsuitable Groom ebook
