Elizabeth Powell (13 page)

Just as Carlisle had explained. Not exactly Everly’s idea of a pleasant evening, but he had to play along. He forced a smile to his lips. “I’d say it sounded intriguing.”

“Not quite the word I’d use,” Hale said. He licked his lips. “Sybaritic is more like it.”

“Amen,” Lambert replied.

“I merely wish to provide my fellow officers with enjoyable entertainment,” Locke stated. “We begin the evening at ten o’clock. You know the address, of course.”

Everly’s smile broadened. “Of course.”

 *    *    *

Everly woke early the next afternoon with cannon fire pounding through his head. He tried to sit up.

“Who the devil ordered that broadside?” he croaked. The pounding continued, but it wasn’t cannon fire. He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. His head hurt. His eyes hurt. Dammit, even his
hair
hurt. His mouth felt like it had been stuffed with a dirty cannon swab. That might explain the state of his stomach. Ugh. He grimaced and rang for Stubbs.

His servant was not sympathetic. “Got yerself good and foxed, didn’t ye? Stayin’ out till all hours, comin’ home reekin’ o’ brandy and tobacco smoke—it’s not like ye.”

“Enough, Stubbs,” Everly muttered. “This was all in the line of duty.”

Stubbs shook his grizzled head and poured hot water into the basin. “In all the years I’ve served ye, Captain, I’ve never see ye in such a state. Except …”

Everly winced. “Except after Felicia jilted me. How thoughtful of you to bring that up on a morning like this, Stubbs.”

Stubbs’s face fell. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Captain.”

Everly waved the man’s protests away. Felicia. Damn Sillsby for bringing back those painful memories. She had been his golden angel, and he had loved her, yearned to be with her all those years he was at sea. And when they had been reunited, she hadn’t been able to accept a flawed Adonis as her husband. Everly ran a hand through his tousled hair. Odd … when he tied to remember Felicia’s face, her pale golden locks were replaced by ebon curls, her blue eyes by deep brown ones. It wasn’t Felicia, but Miss Amanda Tremayne who stared back at him. Everly shook his head; lancing pains shot through his temples. At least it was enough to get Miss Tremayne out of his mind. Felicia had hurt him, and he didn’t want to give another female the chance to do the same thing.

Stubbs picked up Everly’s jacket from the back of a chair and tsk-tsked at its sadly wrinkled condition. As he
brushed it off, several scraps of paper fell from the pocket. “Eh? What’s all this?”

Everly bent and retrieved the papers from the floor. Despite his aching head and smarting eyes he recognized them as vowels he’d won the night before. He made a quick tally. Egad, he had over five thousand pounds here—a small fortune. He didn’t remember winning that much. Then again, he had imbibed a great quantity of brandy after Locke and the others had left, an attempt to rid himself of Felicia’s taint. He supposed that he had been temporarily successful.

He gave the papers to Stubbs. “Put these in my desk,” he ordered. He squinted at the clock. “And get me as presentable as you can. I must meet someone at half-past three.”

Stubbs grinned crookedly and brandished the razor. “You ’aven’t given me much to work with, Captain.”

Everly answered his servant’s smile with a tired one of his own. “Do what you can. You’ve seen worse.”

With Stubbs’s help, Everly arrived at the gates to Green Park just as the bells tolled half-past three. Drizzle shimmered down in a gray curtain. Here in the park, the rich smells of wet grass and moist earth overcame the odor of smoke and sewage. Everly spied the small, drab figure huddled inside the gate and signaled the coachman to stop. He opened the carriage door. “Here I am, punctual as promised. Come in out of the rain.”

“You look horrible.” Miss Tremayne didn’t mince words. She disdained his hand as she climbed into the coach. Her cloak and bonnet were damp; she looked as though she had been out in the rain for some time.

“Thank you,” Everly replied dryly. “I hope I did not keep you waiting.”

She shook her head, and pushed a few damp strands of hair away from her eyes. “No, not long. Madame sent me on an errand, so I don’t have much time.”

He nodded. “Of course. May I see the letters?”

Miss Tremayne reached into her reticule and produced an awkward-looking bundle. When she handed it to him, Everly realized, that the letters had been bound in oilskin
to protect them. He glanced up at the young woman. She perched on the edge of the carriage bench, her reddened hands clasped tightly in her lap, her heels tapping nervously on the floor. Her skin was so pale that her huge dark eyes looked like holes burned through cloth. Lines of weariness pulled at her mouth.

“You’re tired,” he observed.

He expected her to bristle, to deny his observation. To his surprise, she merely nodded. “I have been working late.”

Everly frowned as he undid the knotted twine that surrounded the oilskin bundle. “You should at least wear gloves. The air is chill.”

She folded her hands beneath her cloak, out of sight. “I forgot them at the shop. I appreciate your concern for my welfare, Captain. Now please read the letters.”

She didn’t want charity—she didn’t even want his concern. Stubborn chit. Everly unfolded the letters and read each one in turn. When he was finished, he replaced them in the oilskin as if they were fragile pieces of porcelain. They might as well be, for if anything happened to this last link with her father, she would be desolate.

“Well?” she asked, anxious. Tremors shook her slight body.

Everly chose his words with care. “Your father was thorough in his documentation,” he began gravely. “Unfortunately, I do not think these letters will prove useful to our case.”

“What? How can you say that?” Anger raised twin spots of flame on her cheeks.

“We have no evidence to corroborate his claims. At this point, it would take months to track down anyone mentioned in these letters, and we don’t have the time. I’m sorry, Miss Tremayne.” He handed the bundle to her.

She snatched it from him. Bright tears limned her eyes. “So you’re saying they mean nothing?”

“I would like to help you, Miss Tremayne, but I’m afraid you overestimate the value of your father’s correspondence.
I know these letters mean a great deal to you, but that is the extent of it.”

The young woman bristled. She hugged the packet to her chest. “Do not patronize me, Captain. I know this information is useful. I just know it.”

Everly could see her resolve crumbling. He had just scuttled her hopes, and his heart went out to her. “I do wish to help you,” he said softly, “but this is no longer your battle. In a few days I will have another opportunity to find direct evidence against Locke. If I discover anything to corroborate the information in your father’s letters, I will let you know.”

“What sort of opportunity?” Her fingers tightened around the oilskin packet.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he assured her.

“Are you going back to Locke’s town house?”

Damn, but she was a persistent creature. Beauty and endless potential for exasperation in one neat package. “As it so happens, yes. Locke is hosting a private card party.”

“Take me with you,” demanded Miss Tremayne.

At first her scandalous suggestion robbed him of speech. Then his indignation took command. “Out of the question,” he snapped. “There will be only one sort of woman at this party, and no proper young lady would even consider attending.”

Her brow puckered. “What are you talking about? What sort of woman?”

“Courtesans, Miss Tremayne,” he retorted, hoping his blunt words would shock her. “Fashionable impures. Cyprians. Demi-reps.”

She wasn’t shocked. In fact, she seemed intrigued by the prospect. “Really? With that many women, perhaps I could—”

“No. Absolutely not. You will not go with me. That is an order.”

Miss Tremayne twitched as though she’d been stung. “You cannot order me about. I am not a member of your crew.”

“Aye, for if you were, I could have you flogged for
your insolence!” He paused to settle his rising temper. “If you know what’s best, Miss Tremayne, you will go home and cease your infernal meddling. It’s not your place to get involved.” He spoke more sharply than he’d intended, but his patience was worn thin.

“I vowed to clear my father’s name, and I will not rest until Locke is bought to justice.” She bit off each word.

“He will be,” Everly promised. Egad, arguing with this girl was like arguing with a mule. A twinge of pain erupted at his temples; his headache was returning with a vengeance.

She shot him a clever, speculative look. “What if I told you that I knew of a secret compartment in Locke’s office?”

“What?” Everly demanded. She hadn’t told him the complete truth, after all, and the thought infuriated him.

“What did you find? And why the devil didn’t you tell me about it?”

“You needn’t swear at me. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know if I could trust you.”

“And now?”

“I’m still not entirely sure. Perhaps we are both better off with an element of suspicion.”

“We share the same goal, Miss Tremayne, albeit for different reasons. Tell me where the compartment is.”

Her lips thinned into a stubborn line. “No, I will not. Nor will I tell you how to open it. Besides, Captain, how do you expect to slip away from a small gambling party to rifle through your host’s private belongings?”

She had a point, but he was not about to concede. “Insolent little baggage,” he fumed.

“Patronizing, arrogant tyrant,” she flung back.

Everly’s head throbbed in time with his pulse. He rubbed his temples. “I am not taking you to that party,” he insisted.

Her expression softened. “If I went with you, you could keep Locke busy upstairs while I searched his office. I know just where the compartment is, and how to get into it. No one would notice my absence.”

“That’s extortion,” Everly said with a growl.

She made a little moue. “I regret this course of action, Captain, but you leave me little choice. Either we work together to expose Locke, or you can muddle through on your own and get caught in flagrante delicto.”

Latin. He should have expected something so incongruous from this unconventional female. Everly threw up his hands. “If I took you with me, you’d run the exact same risk.”

“But I’d stand a better chance than you. I’m smaller, can move quickly, and—” she glanced at his cane—“I’m far more mobile.”

He winced. Ordinary females were not supposed to possess this capacity for logic. Then again, he knew by now that Miss Tremayne was anything but ordinary. He fixed her with his gimlet captain’s gaze, guaranteed to wither the most hardened sailor, and tried another approach. “How can I, in good conscience, take a lady of good breeding to a place that is little better than a bawdy house? You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

“You needn’t worry about offending my sensibilities, Captain,” Miss Tremayne said briskly. “I am three and twenty years old, and quite capable of taking care of myself. I have endured the deaths of both my parents in the span of six months. I have withstood hardships I had never dreamed possible. And I have played actress before; this will not be any different.”

Either she wasn’t affected by his glare, or she wasn’t paying attention. His lips twisted in a sneer. “I think you’re mistaken. If—and I still say
if
—you were to go, you would have to play the part of my mistress. A daunting task. Are you up to the challenge?”

He had hoped to frighten her into reconsidering, but his strategy went awry. Rather than flinch away from him, she squared her shoulders and returned his glare with rebellious tenacity. “I am if you are, Captain.”

Miss Tremayne as his mistress. Everly had a vision of the girl, dressed in nothing at all but a silky negligee and lounging on a bed, her dark hair curled over her breasts. Heat surged through him, and his breeches grew painfully
tight. He shook himself. This was sheer folly. Why was he even considering such a foolhardy plan?

“I’m going to ask you something, Miss Tremayne,” he said soberly, “and please do not take umbrage at what I’m about to say. Have you considered the consequences of this strategy? What if a prospective fiancé discovers that you have masqueraded as a courtesan and attended a party at a bawdy house? Your reputation would suffer irreparable damage. So would that of your grandmother.”

Shadows clouded her eyes. “My family’s name is blackened beyond measure. No one will ever wed me. Let us be realistic, Captain. Who in his right mind would want to marry a traitor’s brat? My reputation cannot get any worse. I have nothing more to lose.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, and she turned away. “You may think me a desperate fool, but I cannot turn back now.”

These admissions took Everly aback. She was right—as it stood now, her future was bleak. Most women of her age were married already, with a family of their own. While he could not help but admire her determination, she posed a unique threat to his mission. How could he do his duty when all he wanted to do was protect Amanda? Er—Miss Tremayne.

Everly considered her elegant profile. He knew he should be suspicious of her, but she was nothing like Felicia. Felicia was beautiful, delicate like a porcelain doll, but indolent and spoiled. Miss Tremayne was lovely as well, but resourceful, intelligent, fiercely loyal, and infuriatingly independent. A little lioness. He had known her only a handful of days, and already he was torn between kissing her and strangling her. He sighed. “After this party, you must have nothing more to do with this investigation.”

She turned, her lips parted in surprise. “Y—you’ll take me with you?”

He smiled despite the pain careening through his head. “I believe I just said that. But only if you withdraw afterwards and let others continue the chase.”

She seemed to weigh the merits of this offer; her eyes
darted from him to the packet of letters she held in her lap. “Agreed, Captain. I will not interfere in your investigation, but only if you agree to help exonerate my father, should you uncover the evidence I know exists.”