Surrender (25 page)

He studied her, his eyes watchful, but not hard. “Evelyn, even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you. When we were on my island, I said that I did not want you involved in the war, and what I meant is that I don’t want you involved in any aspect of my life that might be dangerous.”

She thought about how he had insisted she was in danger after having overheard him speaking with LeClerc, and she thought about the threats issued by LeClerc’s crony. And now there was this beating—which was not related to his smuggling activity. She was already very, very involved in dangerous affairs, she thought uneasily.

“Why do you seem alarmed?”

She jerked. “I am very alarmed, Jack—you were brought here in the worst of conditions! Two weeks ago, I overheard that terrible conversation! Yesterday you tried to tell me that the beating was related to the free trade. But it was not, was it? This has something to do with your wartime activities.”

“What a conclusion to draw!” he exclaimed, eyes wide with feigned innocence.

“You do not deny it?”

“You are too stubborn. I deny it, Evelyn.” He did not bat an eye.

Yet she knew—she just knew—he was lying boldly to her now! “I wrote Lucas. I told him you had been assaulted and badly beaten.”

He shrugged. “And did you tell him I am alive and well, anyway?”

“Of course!”

“He will probably show up at your door. As an older brother, he can be annoying. Sometimes, I think he has forgotten that I am a grown man.”

“If he does come, I intend to ask him the same questions I am asking you.”

“He will undoubtedly answer as I have.” Jack shrugged and paled.

Evelyn leaped to her feet, then realized there was nothing she could do to ease his discomfort. She clasped her hands, when she wanted to clasp his. “Why did you send him here? I did not think you would, not after we had such an argument on the island.”

He glanced away, instantly. “He could be of help. Just because we argued—just because you think me a traitor—doesn’t mean I am indifferent to your plight.”

She bit her lip. He had just referenced the terrible deception—the terrible betrayal—that stood between them.

He now looked directly at her. His gaze became piercing. “I am beginning to recall something, Evelyn, a vague memory. Or perhaps, it was a dream. Did you sit beside me, and were you crying?”

She froze. Yesterday she had been crying, and she had told him that she loved him, still. Carefully, she said, “Yes.”

“You have been caring for me—you could have turned me away. Another woman would have done just that.”

“I am not another woman. I would never do such a thing.”

“No, you would not, no matter our differences. But tears? Why would you cry over a French spy—a traitor?” He did not add the words,
a lover,
nor did he have to, as they hung in the air between them.

She inhaled. “Stop. You are not being fair.”

“I have no intention of being fair now. In fact, I am having some very odd memories.” His eyes glittered.

“Of the beating?” She was hopeful.

He ignored that. “Did you help me drink brandy? Did you help me sit up?”

She frowned. How much did he recall? Had he recalled that she had declared her love? Should she make such a confession again? But he was the one who needed to admit to some genuine affection!

“I am furious that you were assaulted—whatever the reason. I was crying. Of course I would be upset to see you so badly hurt.” She inhaled. “We are friends.”

“I am beginning to think that you still care about me, and we were more than friends.”

Was she red? Oh, how she must ignore that! “I want you to get well. And you are certainly welcome to stay here until you have recuperated.”

“I know an evasion when I am given one…Evelyn.” His voice hardened. “I thought we agreed—Roselynd is too isolated, too remote, for a widow living alone with her child.”

They had not come to such a consensus—but he was so very right. “I cannot ask my uncle to take us in.” But what else could she really do?

“I can.” He was calm.

She started, immediately imagining being under her aunt’s roof again. Then, she heard the dog barking downstairs. Alarm began.

“You have a dog?” He threw his legs over the bed, preparing to stand, clearly ignoring the immediate pain.

“Aimee has a puppy,” she said. “Do not get up!” She rushed to the window and looked out. A carriage was coming up the drive, and she recognized it immediately.

“Who is it?” He was alert, pistol in hand.

“It is Trevelyan,” she cried, relieved.

He sank back down on the bed, breathing hard and with an effort. “You told him I am here?” He was incredulous.

“Of course not!” She suddenly wondered what to do—but Jack was hurt, and Trevelyan could surely help them.

“Evelyn, send him up. I wish to speak with him—privately.”

She tried to imagine why Jack wished a word, and was alarmed at the notion that he meant to discuss her.

“I am not asking,” he said so softly she shivered. “I have matters I must discuss with him. And, Evelyn? Do not even think to eavesdrop.”

She had intended to do just that. Somehow, she smiled tightly at him.

He smiled coolly back.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

L
AURENT
HAD
JUST
let Trevelyan into the house when Evelyn came downstairs. Removing his bicorn hat, Trevelyan hurried to her. “I just heard,” he said grimly. “How is he?”

Evelyn gasped. “You know that Jack is here?”

“Yes. There is gossip, Evelyn, and it might not be wise for him to linger here much longer.” He studied her closely. “My butler told me that he was beaten and he is now recovering from his injuries here.”

“He was badly beaten, Trev, outside the Black Briar Inn. But he is doing a bit better today. However, he can hardly move to another location.” She could not imagine his enduring a carriage ride. “He just awoke, and he is asking for you.”

Trevelyan started for the stairs. “May I?”

She seized his arm from behind. “Why is he asking for you? Do you know who did this—and why?” she asked quickly. If Jack would not tell her, perhaps Trev would.

“I do not know why he wishes to speak with me, but I have known Jack for years and I hope to help him out of any trouble that he is in.” He smiled reassuringly at her. “And how would I know anything about the beating?”

She stared closely at him. “I have begun to wonder if you are involved in the war, too.”

He laughed. “Evelyn, I have a very large estate to run. I have no time for wars and revolutions.”

She smiled grimly at him, certain now that he was very much involved, although she could not guess how. “He wants to speak privately. Go on up.”

* * *

J
ACK
WOULD
HAVE
PACED
if he were capable of doing so without pain constantly stabbing through him. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed, now holding his throbbing ribs, his thoughts racing, his head aching. While he did not remember much of the carriage ride to Roselynd, he recalled every single detail of the beating—and the threats LeClerc had made against Evelyn.

And now that she was gone from the room, he could blanch openly. Thank God she was all right!

But she could not continue to live alone at Roselynd. He would not allow it. Clearly, his enemies thought to use her to make him behave as they wished.

He was still in disbelief, as well as some shock. Now he knew that his interest in her was putting her in danger. If he hadn’t invited her to Looe Island, if he hadn’t made love to her, LeClerc would not have ever thought to threaten Evelyn. And the worst part was that he knew LeClerc would follow through on his threats.

He finally stood up, wincing, because he had to pace. His ribs hurt more now, but he knew they were not broken. LeClerc needed him in action, not in a sick bed.

The throbbing in his head also intensified as he slowly paced. He had to protect Evelyn—he simply had to. He should not be at Roselynd, but he had only come to find out if she had been hurt. He also must not resume any relations with her.

His heart lurched in an unfamiliar manner. Had she told him that she loved him? Had he dreamed her declaration—or was he, in fact, remembering it?

No good could come of her caring for him, and he should not be glad because he suspected her confession had been real.

His mind was made up.

Jack turned as he heard Trevelyan’s heavy and rapid footsteps. The baron’s heir paused on the threshold of the room, his gaze sharp. He glanced back into the hall, and then entered, not closing the door. “Will you survive?” He wasn’t smiling. But Trev undoubtedly guessed a great deal of the truth and being beaten up by the fanatics who would die for la Patrie was not a laughing matter.

Jack’s expression was neutral. “Undoubtedly. Make certain no one eavesdrops.”

Trev glanced into the hall again. “I suppose we are going to get to the gist of the matter that we have both, deliberately, made certain to never discuss.”

“Yes,” Jack said, thinking of Warlock now, and his circle of spies, “I suppose so.”

Trev walked over to the room’s single window and looked outside briefly. He turned. “This is a godforsaken place. Are there spies in this house?”

“I believe Evelyn’s staff is loyal.”

Trevelyan stared out the single window another time. “No one should have to live here.”

Jack happened to agree. And clearly, Trevelyan remained fond of Evelyn. Jack despised the fact, but Trevelyan did not have a bounty on his head and more importantly, he hadn’t been beaten up by rabid revolutionaries. However, that didn’t mean he didn’t have his own secrets. “What do you do—for Warlock?” Jack asked. He happened to know that Trevelyan had been to London a dozen times in the past two years—when he usually went to town no more than once or twice. He was obviously in the damned club.

“Whatever I can—when I can,” Trev said sounding vague. He smiled slightly, with a shrug. “My involvement in the circle is on an ‘as needed’ basis. I prefer it that way.” Trev circled the bed. “And which of your ‘friends’ did this?”

Jack looked at him. “I have been playing both sides, Trev, for a long time.”

“I suspected as much,” Trev said. “So, can I assume a republican agent assaulted you? Being as Captain Barrow and his ilk wish for you to hang, and they would hardly bother with a pummeling when they could have the satisfaction—and the reward—of watching you hang. And Warlock would never jeopardize his own asset. He has better ways to bring recalcitrant spies to heel.”

Jack wondered at the comment. Had Trev been forced into service? “My French comrades suspect me of treachery,” Jack said softly. He had to sit. It hurt like hell to change positions and he grimaced.

“But they are right, aren’t they?” He poured brandy into the single glass on the table and handed it to him. “You can pretend to the entire country that you are a reckless mercenary, available to the highest bidder, and that this is a thrilling game, but we both know that isn’t true.”

Jack sipped. “I am a mercenary. I enjoy every profit I make. I have, in fact, become very accustomed to luxury. I am enjoying my wealth.”

Trev snorted. “You enjoy being hunted. You enjoy being a hunter. You enjoy the danger, and you would be up to your neck in this game, even if it did not afford you a single penny! I can think of no one better suited to being a double agent than you, Jack.”

Jack decided not to argue, because Trev knew him too well. “I have been warned to reassess my loyalties,” Jack said, now thinking of the threats against Evelyn. His insides curdled with fear for her. And he might try to deny it, but his feelings for her hadn’t changed. They seemed stronger than ever, in fact.

LeClerc wanted to know when the Quiberon Bay invasion would take place. How would he withhold that information now? Yet he could hardly jeopardize the mission.

“That is a problem, is it not?” Trev was saying. “Because you can pretend to be indifferent to each cause, and you can claim to be playing both sides for your own self-aggrandizement, but I happen to know you cannot reassess your loyalty because in the end, you are as much a patriot as I am.” Trev took up the bottle of brandy. “May I?”

Jack nodded and watched him take a sip from the bottle. Warlock would put Britain first, always. Jack had thought he would, too, but just then, he knew he would put Evelyn first.

He shuddered, afraid of what such determination meant. “Before we discuss this any further, I must know that everything we say here will be held in the strictest confidence.”

Trev took another draught of brandy and put the bottle down. “And who are you afraid I will speak to? I am hardly playing the French spy, as you are,” he said, referring to the fact that he would not be divulging privileged information to the enemy.

He did not want Warlock to know that Evelyn D’Orsay was now dangerously involved in this one war game—or that he meant to protect her. “You can speak of this to no one,” he said firmly. “Not even to Lucas.”

No slouch, Trev’s eyes slowly widened. “You do not want me telling your secrets to Warlock!”

“I hardly said that,” Jack lied easily, his face never changing expression, “but he should not be apprised, either.”

Trev stared intently for a long moment. Jack knew he was trying to decide why Jack wished to keep the spymaster in the dark. “Go on. You have my word.”

“I am in the middle of an operation,” Jack said slowly. “I have to convince my French masters I am sincere, at least until the end of the summer.”

“Spare me the details—I don’t want to know what you are doing. Can you possibly convince them you are loyal? And if you can, what happens when this mission is over? What happens if it succeeds? Will the French then know you are the enemy?”

Jack’s head was aching more insistently now, for he was wondering the exact same thing. “Until now, I have never doubted my ability to slither through this game. However, it is possible that in the fall, the truth will be out—and I will have two bounties on my head.”

“How perfect.” But Trev’s blue eyes flashed with anger. “Looe Island will not remain a safe haven forever, Jack.”

“You are worried about me?” Jack pretended amusement.

“We are friends.”

He sobered. Candidly, he said, “I have never contemplated how this double-sided game might eventually end. I have been too busy, playing first the French spy, then the British one, while trying to avoid both our navy and the few revenue men who, from time to time, dare to appear in Cornwall.” And it was true. At first, he had simply helped Lucas extract an émigré or two. Then Warlock had suggested he ferry information back from France. That had been easy enough to do, until he had decided to retrieve the information himself—and become a veritable spy. He had never before regretted his deepening involvement. He was simply too preoccupied with eluding one navy or another, avoiding the British authorities when on British soil, and eluding the French authorities when in France.

Now he thought about both of his brothers-in-law. Paget and Grenville had been spies in France and they had both managed to end their activities—and stay alive.

And now they were both husbands and fathers....

“You had better think about it now,” Trev said. “I wish to help. This is my suggestion. You can either wriggle out of this current mission—and out of all involvement with the republicans. Return in fact to your life as a simple smuggler. Claim you are done with the war, as so many smugglers have done.”

Jack hesitated. Trevelyan made it sound so easy. Warlock would not let him walk away, he was certain, and the rebels in La Vendée were so desperate for British aid now. Having met Cadoudal a number of times, he did not feel that he could simply turn his back on him and his cause.

And even after the Quiberon Bay invasion, was he truly ready to retire from these war games? He was only twenty-six years old! What would he do without the hunt, without the pursuit, the danger?

An image flashed in his mind’s eye, of Evelyn, living alone with her daughter at Roselynd, when she needed protection, when she needed a husband and a family....

“I cannot get out now,” he said softly. But he felt oddly uncomfortable as he spoke.

“I did not think so,” Trev said. “Will you try to get out after this operation, in the fall?”

He was endangering Evelyn. She needed someone solid in her life, someone very much like Trevelyan, who spied only upon occasion, was not a double agent and hadn’t been beaten to a pulp, or had his loved ones threatened. “I doubt it. I have always intended to see this war through.”

“I am not surprised. What about Evelyn?”

Jack flinched as their gazes met and held.

Trev added, “You may be putting Evelyn in danger.”

Jack set his glass down and stared grimly. “That is the last thing I want. How intrigued are you with her?”

His brows lifted. His smile was mirthless. “I am not in love, if that is what you are asking.”

He was frankly relieved, when he should not be. “Why not?”

“I am only recently out of mourning,” Trev said. “And she is most definitely still in mourning. Besides, we are old friends.”

“When she is out of mourning, would you consider courting her? Would you consider marriage? One cannot help but notice that the two of you would make a good match.”

Trevelyan was wry. “In case you have not noticed, she thinks of me as a friend, not a suitor. You are her knight in shining armor—or should I say, in rusted iron?” His stare hardened. “I think she is infatuated with you.”

He wondered if Trev really thought her infatuated, and he knew he should not be pleased to hear his remark. “Has she spoken to you—about me?”

“If she has, I would not betray her confidence.”

“Since when did you become such a damned gentleman?”

“Since my wife died,” he snapped. “I have learned a lesson or two,” he added more calmly. “Why did you come here? You could have gone to any number of places to hide and recuperate.”

“I am worried about Evelyn, too. She may be in more danger than I am in.” Jack’s tone was grave.

“What the hell does that mean?” Trev cried.

“My French masters seem to think that I am fond of her. They have threatened her.”

Trevelyan seemed to pale. “When?”

“At the Black Briar,” he said.

Trevelyan’s eyes widened. “They threatened her when they beat you? So they will use her against you?”

“They think to use her to gain my complete loyalty, but it is even worse than that. Evelyn overheard a conversation fit only for my ears and those of the republican I was with. She was discovered. And unfortunately, my French friend happened to recognize her from when she lived in Paris.”

Trev cursed. “So they will threaten her—to encourage you to do their bidding—and she has knowledge she should not have?”

“Precisely,” he said.

“You should not be here,” Trev said, impassioned. “You should not see her again—not until you have gotten completely out of these war games.”

Jack realized he was right. He also realized that Trevelyan did care about Evelyn, perhaps more than he was admitting. “I think I might be able to endure a carriage ride tomorrow. But I am also trying to convince her to return to Faraday Hall. In any case, I want you to look after her.” He could not force a smile. He hated asking Trevelyan to play champion and protector now. Surely Evelyn would soon realize that her interests should be directed at the baron’s heir, not at a disreputable smuggler and a notorious outlaw.