Elizabeth Powell (16 page)

“That’s my girl.” Everly barely glanced at his cards. His hand drifted down her throat, down to her neckline, tracing a maddening line on her bare skin.

Amanda jumped when his fingers stopped at the hollow between her breasts. “Stop!”

He silenced her with a kiss, his mouth hard and unyielding. His arms tightened around her, crushing her to him. If she struggled, the other men would grow suspicious, but for the moment she could do nothing, even if she wanted to. The feel of his lips against hers froze her limbs and set her blood on fire. At last Everly pulled away, his eyes leveled at hers like loaded cannon.

“Why are you doing this?” She squirmed and pulled back as far as his arms would allow.

He held her fast. “You demanded to come along, knowing full well what sort of party this was,” he murmured. He nibbled at her earlobe. “It’s time you learned that your rash actions have consequences.”

Consequences? Amanda’s eyes narrowed. He was doing this to punish her for defying him. Part of her wanted to slap him, but more disturbing was the part of her that wanted him to kiss her again.

“Your wager, Everly,” prompted one of the officers at the table.

The captain muttered an oath under his breath. The bright fury dimmed from his eyes, and he loosened his hold on her. “No more of this, sweetheart, or you’ll distract me.”

In one fluid movement he lifted Amanda and set her gently on the ground. Amanda didn’t try to move right away; she didn’t trust her legs to support her. The captain sat down again without looking at her.

“Jack?” she ventured.

“Don’t go far, love,” he replied without glancing up. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

He was right; it was too early for her to sneak down to the study. Her eyes flitted across the room. Locke and Mrs. Danvers were still making the rounds, conversing with the other guests. She would have to wait awhile.

Amanda returned her attention to the vingt-et-un table. Lieutenant Hale had just upped the wager again. Everly concentrated on his cards, not on her. Amanda copied the pose of a few other courtesans and leaned negligently against Everly’s shoulder. She felt him stiffen. Good. A tight smile curved her lips. It would serve him right if she
did
distract him.

“It seems your play is not up to snuff, Captain,” Hale announced at the end of the hand. With a smirk, he gathered in his winnings.

“There’s always the next round,” Everly retorted. “Deal.”

Amanda continued to hover above Everly’s shoulder, keeping one eye on the room as the evening progressed. Servants made the rounds with port, Madeira, and champagne, but Amanda refrained; her stomach was in enough distress already. The men at the vingt-et-un table imbibed freely, all save Everly. He kept a glass of brandy at his elbow and seemed to take a sip from time to time,
but Amanda noticed that the level of liquid in the glass went down very slowly.

After another few hands, Amanda decided that she could wait no longer. The noise level in the room had increased appreciably, as had the general
joie de vivre
of the guests. Locke seemed to be engaged in a boisterous conversation at the other end of the room.

She leaned down to Everly’s ear, her lips close to his golden curls. “I’m going for the study,” she whispered.

Everly nodded, an almost imperceptible gesture. “Be careful,” he murmured. “I’ll keep Locke busy up here.” Then, more loudly, he said, “You do that, sweeting. I’ll join you when I’m finished here. I promise I won’t be long.”

As she turned to leave, she felt Everly pat her derriere.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. Rude laughter sounded from the table. Over clenched teeth, she flashed what she hoped was a smile at Everly. Then, fanning herself, she exited the room with as much decorum as she could muster.

The corridor outside the ballroom was empty. Amanda sighed and put a hand to her pounding temples. She would be so glad when this was all over, when her life could return to normal. No more intrigue, no more disguises, no more nerve-wracking escapades. She looked down the hall in both directions, then crept to the back staircase.

Downstairs, all was quiet. She tiptoed to the door of Locke’s study and opened it just far enough for her to slip inside, steeling herself against the squeal of the hinges. For once her small size played to her advantage; she squeezed through the crack, and the door never opened far enough for the hinges to protest. Amanda closed the door behind her.

Tonight a fire blazed on the hearth, enough to illuminate most of the room. Good—she shouldn’t need a candle. Her heart drummed an excited tattoo in her breast as she crossed the room. Now, to work. She didn’t have much time.

Out of the corner of his eye Everly watched Amanda depart, absorbed by the gentle sway of her hips and the
way the muslin skirt accentuated her voluptuous curves. Heat rose through him.

Laughter from the other officers at the table startled him, and brought his attention back to the game.

“You should bring your ladybird to every game, Everly,” crowed Lieutenant Hale. “She’s made me luckier tonight than I’ve been in months.”

Everly scanned his cards. He had played with all the finesse of a drunkard, judging by what he held in his hand. Disgusted with himself, he laid his cards facedown on the table. A slow flush crept over his face. Damnation. Never before had he been so easily distracted.

“Another hand, or will you be leaving us for … other pursuits?” Hale prodded.

Everly tossed his cards toward the sneering lieutenant. “I have a few moments. Deal.”

Hale shrugged. “As you will. But are you sure you can trust your little mistress to go off by herself?”

Everly’s eyes narrowed. “I am certain she will be fine, just as long as you stay away from her.”

Hale smirked and began to shuffle the deck. “Ah, you’re the jealous sort, are you, Everly? Do you have reason to doubt your ladybird’s loyalty?”

“No more than you have reason to doubt your skill at cards,” Everly retorted. “I should say you require opponents who are drunk or besotted in order to win.”

Tension vibrated across the table as this comment sunk in. Hale’s face twisted into a mask of fury.

“Ah, our gracious host. Good evening, Admiral,” said one of the other players in a nervous voice.

Everyone at the table turned at the approach of Locke and Mrs. Danvers. The admiral walked with his chest puffed out, a jovial smile on his face, evidently very pleased with himself.

“Good to see that you are enjoying yourselves, gentlemen,” he said. “How is your luck holding, Captain Everly?”

Everly relaxed back into his chair. “Well enough, sir.”

“Better now that he has no distractions,” said Hale in a thin voice.

Locke looked between the two men and arched a questioning eyebrow. “Yes, where is your little opera dancer, Captain? I would have expected to see her here.”

A forced smile bloomed on Everly’s lips. “She started to complain that she hasn’t had a moment alone with me in weeks, so I told her to find us a suitable trysting place. Must keep her happy, at least for the moment.”

Locke laughed. “Ah, women. Predictable creatures, are they not, Maria?”

At his side, Maria Danvers cocked her head and regarded Everly from beneath lowered lashes. “You seem to go to great lengths to keep your mistress contented. You bring her here, and cater to her every whim. Should it not be the other way around, Captain?”

Damnation, but that woman had a viper’s tongue. Everly pretended indifference to her sting. “What would you suggest, madam?”

Mrs. Danvers walked behind Everly’s chair and toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “I suggest that you find a mistress who is more willing to satisfy
your
desires, Captain.”

Everly tried very hard not to shudder with revulsion.

“Enough, Maria,” Locke said with a laugh. “You’ll put the poor man off his game.”

At last, the cue Everly needed. “Have you come to join us, Admiral?”

Locke considered the invitation. “Very well. But only for a moment.”

The admiral settled himself in the chair next to Everly, but Maria Danvers made no move to join him. She remained at Everly’s shoulder, her hip brushing against his epaulets, watching him with her intent, poison green eyes.

Hale, now somewhat subdued, dealt the next hand. Everly examined his cards, but his mind was still far from the game. Even with Mrs. Danvers so close to him, all he could think of was Amanda. He should never have let his temper get the better of him like that. Yes, he was angry with her, but he should never have pulled her onto his lap as though she were a common dolly-mop,
and he certainly should never have kissed her. Her body had been so warm, her skin so soft beneath his fingers. Her curves had fit so well against him. Everly gritted his teeth and shifted in his chair as his body responded to such provocative thoughts. A fine sheen of sweat dewed his brow.

The wagering began, and Everly wrenched his attention back to the cards. He had to keep Locke occupied long enough for Amanda to open the secret compartment and examine its contents.

Play continued for several rounds, and although the admiral was discreet about it, Everly noticed the man checking his pocket timepiece.

“Enough for me, gentlemen.” Locke set his cards on the table and rose.

“Leaving so soon, Admiral?” Everly asked. He had to give Amanda more time. “The game has just begun to get interesting.”

Locke straightened his cravat. “I regret that my other guests require my attention.”

“I never thought you one to shy away from the chance to recoup your losses.” Everly sat back to observe what effect his provoking statement had on the admiral.

Locke’s pale blue eyes grew cold. “Continue without me, Captain.”

“Are you certain?” Everly let his insolence tinge his words.

“I insist,” Locke replied, with more than a hint of impatience. “Come, Maria.”

Mrs. Danvers pouted and detached herself from Everly’s shoulder. “Let me know if you change your mind,” she breathed in his ear.

Everly could not unclench his teeth in time to give her an answer. Damnation—he could do nothing more to delay them, short of accosting Locke and calling unwanted attention to himself. As he watched his host and hostess depart, he could only hope that Amanda had retrieved the information and was far away from the study by now.

 *    *    *

Amanda went right to Locke’s desk and opened the drawer. Everything looked as it had before. At this rate, she would have the papers in her possession and she and Everly could leave the house within the next few minutes. She carefully removed the papers from the drawer, then felt toward the back for the spring. She pressed it, and a small door popped open at the bottom of the drawer. Amanda’s heart leaped into her throat. This was it! She removed her glove and reached into the secret compartment. What would she find? Papers? Charts? Correspondence?

Nothing.

The compartment was empty.

Amanda withdrew her hand and stared blankly at the drawer. She hadn’t imagined things, had she? There
had
been something in this drawer. In response to her burglary attempt, Locke had probably moved the documents from his desk. A prudent move. Botheration! The last thing she needed was a prudent enemy. Amanda fought back her disappointment as she closed the compartment and replaced the papers in the drawer. Where could he have put them? Her eyes scanned the room. Perhaps he hadn’t moved them very far.

Not in any of the other drawers. Behind the portrait? No. A secret compartment in the fireplace? Amanda investigated every crevice and knob on the mantelpiece, down the ornate molding along the sides, but found nothing. If Locke didn’t hide the evidence in this room, the only other likely hiding place would be … his bedchamber. Amanda shuddered. No, it had to be here in the study. It just had to be.

Voices sounded from the hallway. Fear tripped icy fingers down Amanda’s spine. Someone was coming. Coming to the study? No way to tell. She looked wildly around the room. The curtains. No, she’d been found there before. Besides, Locke would notice if the curtains were closed, rather than open as he’d left them.

The voices came closer. Two men. Amanda muffled a little shriek. There was nowhere else to hide, not even so much as a decorative screen. If not the curtains, then
perhaps the balcony … Amanda scooted through the French doors and out into the chill night air. She flattened herself against the dank stone wall next to the railing and tried not to think about the cold. Wisps of fog escaped her parted lips with each breath. She shivered. Her damp petticoats wrapped her legs in layers of ice. Goose bumps covered every inch of her exposed skin. Oh, let them pass, let them pass….

She heard the study door open; the hinges squawked. Her heart pounded like a kettle drum as the two men came inside. Amanda heard the faint click as the door closed behind them, and her eyes widened with horror. She was trapped.

T
he voices, muffled at first, became more distinct as the men came into the room. On the balcony, Amanda could see the shadows they cast, and she willed herself to stay out of sight and motionless. Then, with a sudden clatter, someone yanked the curtains closed. The noise made Amanda jump, and she bit her tongue to keep from crying out.

“Now we are safe from prying eyes,” said one voice. Amanda recognized the speaker: Admiral Locke.

“You are … (mumble) … will miss you?” asked the second. Amanda could hardly hear him. She crept toward the French doors; with the curtains closed, the men inside would not be able to see her. She pressed her ear to the cold glass.

“No. They’re all involved in their own pursuits. We can proceed with our business, and none will be the wiser.”

“You are taking unnecessary risks,” declared the other man. “You realize that the person who rifled through your desk during the ball might make anther attempt.”

Amanda wrinkled her forehead, perplexed. The man’s guttural tones sounded familiar. She had heard his voice before, but she couldn’t place it. She leaned into the glass as much as she dared, straining to catch every word.