Texas Viscount by Shirl Henke

London.”
           “Sort of Russian remittance men?” Josh supplied grimly, thinking of his father.
           “Not a bad analogy, but most Englishmen who find their way to America aren't dispatched to assassinate anyone—at least not by our Foreign Office. These Russian chaps are virulently expansionist. Nikolai Zarenko's father is a major shareholder in the Trans-Siberian Railroad. Sergei Valerian has a brother active in trade with China. They all pretend to be indolent aristocrats living as high-flyers here, but their real mission is to put a period to our negotiations with Japan.”
           “The president told me there'd been an attempt to assassinate this Hayashi fellow. I imagine if the Russians succeeded and could blame a member of the British royal family for the whole shebang, it would end any Anglo-Japanese cooperation in the Far East.”
           “Quite so.”
           “I still don't see where I come in.” Josh scratched his head and winced again. Damn Sabrina Edgewater. He couldn't concentrate worth shucks, and it was all her fault.
           “You're new to the London scene and will be invited everywhere. A Texas viscount is, after all, rather a novelty. Can you hold your liquor? We were informed you could.”
           Josh snorted. “I can imagine who told you, too. On the best day of his life the colonel couldn't hold more than two beers before he'd fall asleep. Not to brag, at least not much, but I can drink any dozen men under the table and walk away standin' straight.”
           “Perfect. That's your entree to the Russians. They swill vodka like watered ale. Carouse with them. You might even find an opportunity to dally a bit with Madame Samsonov.”
           “Can she hold her liquor?”
           Jamison shrugged and grinned. “Rumor has it, prodigiously I suppose you'll just have to find out if you can keep up with her.”
     
    * * * *
     
           Jamison had been right about the invitations. They'd already started to pour in by the time he returned home that afternoon. Teas and balls, recitals and salons. Everyone who was anyone in London society wanted to meet the infamous Texas Viscount, Hambleton's scandalous heir. He began sorting through the heavy velum notes, discarding those that sounded too tame for the Russians' tastes, selecting several where he felt he might encounter them.
           Although Jamison had told him the Russians had virtually colonized the Metropole Hotel on Northumberland Avenue, he decided that meeting them on neutral ground first might be the most natural way to infiltrate their inner circle. As he was making his choices, his uncle ambled into the room.
           “I say, you don't look half as bad as you should, for a man who narrowly escaped drowning this morning,” the earl said with asperity. “What the devil possessed you to treat a woman such as Miss Edgewater so abominably?”
           Josh looked up. “Let's just say we had a little misunderstanding. So, she really is a teacher and you were going to hire her for one of my cousins.”
           “You young scamp, I was going to hire her for you!”
           Josh dropped the invitations...and his jaw. “For me?”
           “Is there an echo in here?” the earl snapped. “If you'll recall from our conversation last night, I said I had employed someone to teach you sufficient manners so you could be received in polite society.”
           “You hired that...that girl? I was looking for some ancient crone with a stick up her ass wearing a frown to match. Come to think of it, except for the age, that description does sorta fit her,” he muttered as an afterthought.
           Hambleton allowed himself an ironic smile. “I imagined you'd have that preconceived notion, which was precisely why I allowed the two of you to meet informally. I was hoping you'd use some of that crude Texas charm on her. I fear