The Rogue (7 page)

Ethan
planted an elbow on the table, and his chin on his fist. "You
weren't there when she needed you," he said bluntly. "
I
was minding my own ducks in my own house when Rose dragged me out by
the hair." Ethan shrugged. "Not that I minded." He
turned to Collis. "How is your lovely wife these days? Fierce as
ever?"

Collis
began to answer eagerly, but Dalton cleared his throat. Almost as
one, Ethan and Collis rolled their eyes and turned their attention
back to Dalton.

"Do
not digress, if you please, Mr. Damont," he said shortly. "Then,
you again assisted us in the distraction of Lord Maywell last evening
while we—ah, investigated him."

Ethan
snorted. "Cleaned out his safe box, you mean." He leaned
back in his chair. "You've only nine minutes left, my lord."

"In
short—"

"I
beg of you," muttered Ethan.

Dalton
darkened. "
In
short
,
Mr. Damont, since you know both dangerously much and yet even more
dangerously little, we find ourselves in the position of having to
decide what to do with you."

Ethan
leaned toward Collis. "Is that the royal 'we'?"

Collis
coughed back a laugh, but kicked Ethan under the table. "This is
bad, Ethan."

"
We
are the Liar's Club, Mr. Damont," Dalton said with his teeth
clenched in obvious irritation. "We work for the Crown.
Intelligence, counterintelligence, espionage. Spies, Mr. Damont."

Too
late, Ethan clapped his hands over his ears. "I told you I
didn't want to know!"

Dalton
watched him carefully. "You must have suspected."

Ethan
cursed and put his hands down. "Suspecting is one thing. I
suspect
my cook is spitting in my soup.
Knowing
means never eating soup again."

Collis
looked green. "Ugh." He raised his hand. "I move we
eat no soup today."

Dalton
ignored him. "Mr. Damont, enough dancing around the issue. We
have decided to make you a Liar. You have intelligence, skills, and
you have already proved your discretion. Despite my reservations,
even I must admit this solution is vastly safer than letting you run
free knowing a handful of half-truths."

"Tell
him the best part," Collis urged.

Dalton
gave a put-upon sigh. "Upon deliberation, it has been decided
that you may forgo the majority of Liar training and apprenticeship.
You have already secured an excellent education and you are
financially independent— in a manner of speaking. Your talents
are ideal for infiltration. As a professional gambler, you are
accustomed to taking risks, you know how to read people, and as we
observed a few moments ago, you are adept at sleight of hand."

He'd
been watched, even then. "From now on I'm only using the privy
in the dark," Ethan muttered.

His
lordship did not pause. "Your profession provides the perfect
cover to wander the Continent as a secure courier. Other than a few
courses to round out your skills, you could be vested as a full Liar
immediately."

Collis
beamed. "Isn't that superb? Normally, the only way to join the
club is through months of training or apprenticeship." He
glanced puckishly at Dalton. "Although we have acquired some
astounding talent through marriage."

Dalton
shushed Collis with a sharp gesture and focused on Ethan. "I see
you as primarily information acquisition," Dalton said, "and
counter-espionage infiltration." Dalton's lips twisted with wry
reluctance. "For your first mission, you are to go back to play
a few more hands with Lord Maywell. We believe Maywell could be the
opposition's mastermind here in London. The lads have dubbed this
leader the Chimera…"

Ethan
listened in horror as Dalton mapped out the rest of his life for him.

"We
want you to string him along by his apparent compulsion to gamble.
Whether his love of cards is real or merely a useful cover, he should
welcome your presence at his game. Never let him win enough to salve
his pride, or lose enough to cause him to exclude you." Lord
Etheridge leaned back in his chair. "We cannot get into Maywell
House again. He redoubled his number of guards today and canceled
most of his family's social engagements for the last few weeks of the
Season. Obviously our first intrusion last night has already been
detected. He is incredibly particular about who he lets in, and now
he will be more so." Etheridge gazed sourly at Ethan. "You,
on the other hand, have already received an invitation to dinner and
gaming tonight."

Ethan
rubbed both hands over his face in an effort to clear his mind. "So,
you connive to get me here this morning to ask me—nay,
tell
me—that like it or not, I am now a
spy
?
And how do you know what invitations I've received?"

The
situation was too eerie for words. He shoved back from the table and
stood. "Your time is up. Good day, good sirs. I appreciate the
kindness of your offer—no, actually I don't and I think you're
both barking mad—but I respectfully decline. Translate that as
'
I'm
getting the bloody hell out of this madhouse
!'
"

He
turned to go, finally and at last. This time he made it all the way
through the card room and was stepping into the front hall when
Collis caught his arm.

Ethan
pulled away angrily. "You won't convince me to stay and listen
for one more bloody minute, Tremayne."

Collis
shook his head. "I'm not trying to. Come to me if you have any
questions, won't you, Ethan? It wouldn't do to be seen around the
club again. You might not get another chance to walk out."

"Is
that a threat?"

Collis
sighed. "Ethan, my former valet knew about the club. He sold
some newsy tidbits to the Voice of Society."

Ethan
swallowed. Already he could see where that would be a very bad idea.
"Did the Liars kill him?"

Collis
shook his head.

That
was a relief. Ethan breathed a bit easier until Collis shrugged and
said, "We haven't found him yet."

Bloody
hell. Ethan stared at the man he'd thought was his friend. "Whose
side are you on?"

Collis
sighed. "I'm a Liar, Ethan. My loyalties lie here. I'm asking
you to think seriously about this. I'm hoping for an outcome that
won't force me to choose."

"You
recall that 'better nature' he mentioned?" Ethan shook his head.
"I just remembered—I don't have one."

With
that, he took his hat and coat from the doorman and left the club.

Jane
dipped her quill tip into the inkwell and daubed it absently on the
side. She put pen to paper.

"Dear
Mother…"

There
she stopped. Normally, she blithely reported every tiny detail of
life here with her relations, right down to naming every caller and
delivery. Mother wanted to know everything, so Jane did her best to
serve.

So
why could she not bring herself to tell Mother about the fellow Ethan
Damont?

She
was afraid that Mother might misunderstand, for one thing. How could
she describe the way Mr. Damont had been skulking about the dark
garden during the ball without making him sound much worse than he
was?

Of
course, she didn't know that he wasn't…

Frustrated
with her own indecision, Jane gave up on her letter and cleaned her
quill. As she stoppered the ink bottle, she resolved to find out for
herself what sort of man Mr. Damont was.

She
would see him again this evening when he came for supper and cards
with her uncle, provided he responded to the invitation.

Jane
absently brushed the feather tip of the quill down one cheek. She
didn't know what to do about the locked room either. It bothered her
no end that someone had been in there. Of course, it could have been
a servant dusting—but during the peak of the ball? Unlikely.

It
really wouldn't be appropriate for her to let herself into a room her
uncle had expressly forbidden them all to enter—but Jane was
full up to her eyebrows with "appropriate." She'd never
realized how much freedom she'd had living in seclusion at the
Dowager House until she'd come here to London and taken on the life
of the pampered Society lady.

Despite
the rigors of country living on a tiny stipend, she now recalled
fondly those days when she'd had all the fields and moors to roam
freely.

Here,
she could not even set foot out into the street— or into a
locked room of the house—without permission.

She
never would have let that stop her before. But Mother had done so
much for her, and she owed Mother complete obedience.

Then
again…

Mother
would want to know what was in the locked room, wouldn't she? Wasn't
Jane supposed to be including every detail of her life here? And
finding out that curious little tidbit for Mother would make Jane
feel better about keeping her encounter with Mr. Damont a secret.

Even
knowing that she was rationalizing without restraint, Jane smiled
eagerly to herself. Finally, a bit of action!

«
^
»

Back
in his house—his freely owned house, by God!— Ethan went
over that morning's stunning disclosure in his mind again and again.

Collis
Tremayne was a spy for the Crown. In the midst of pouring himself a
drink to wash down that bit of news, another development struck
Ethan, stopping him cold with the decanter still tilted in his hand.
"Well, I'm damned," he whispered.

Rose
Tremayne must be a spy as well.

After
a moment, he finished pouring his drink, then absently left it on the
decanter tray and walked away from it.

He'd
known that, of course. He'd
suspected
.

Yet
somehow, knowing for certain was something else altogether. Lively,
lithe Rose… a
spy
!

Well,
it was a good thing they'd never come together then, wasn't it? Ethan
wanted nothing to do with spies of either side, thank you very much.
They were mad, all of them.

What
the hell would make someone want to risk their life for the abstract
concept of "patriotism"? Oh, England was all right. He
certainly didn't want to harm England, but he didn't see any reason
why he should help her either. After all, what had England ever done
for him?

No,
that sort of bizarre black-and-white thinking might work for
honor-bound blokes like Etheridge and Collis, but Ethan liked his
shades of gray just fine. Why fight when he could walk away?

Ethan
went through the front entrance hall toward the stairs. He was going
out tonight. He went out every night. He much preferred it to sitting
about this deathly quiet house.

As
usual, there was a pile of invitations on the hall table. Out of
curiosity, Ethan stopped and sorted through them, looking for one in
particular and frankly dreading finding it.

And
there it was. "Lord and Lady Maywell, requesting the presence of
Mr. Ethan Damont for an evening of cards. Supper will be served at
nine…"

Feeling
an uneasy prickle on the back of his neck, Ethan dropped the thick
card back on the table. He wasn't going and that was that. He had no
one to please but himself, no matter what Etheridge had to say about
it.

As
he went upstairs to dress for his evening out, one thought kept going
through his mind.

Rose
Tremayne… a spy.

Who
would ever think that a woman could be a spy?

Ethan
had first met Rose when she'd banged on his door at the ungodly hour
of noon one day. She'd demanded his help on the basis of his
schoolyard friendship with Collis, pumped him full of coffee, and
dragged him, red-eyed and hung-over, into the most frightening and
exhilarating adventure of his life, rescuing Collis and his fat
relation from the bowels of a traitor's munitions factory.