Surrender (34 page)

“I cannot simply quit what I am doing, Evelyn.”

“Why not? I love you—as you know. I do not want you to die for some damned war. Why can’t you quit? I am so happy—you seem happy, too.” Her heart now thundered. She knew exactly what she was asking, and how monumental such a question was. But she loved him too much to be afraid to push him to get out of the war.

“Even if I wanted to, my enemies would manipulate me back into the game,” he said.

She bit her lip. “Not if they could not find you.”

“You want me to run away? To hide?” He was incredulous.

She began to nod. “If it meant saving your life, yes…. I would even go with you.”

He jumped to his feet, his eyes wide. “I have friends who are dependent upon me now, and their lives and their freedom depend on me, as well.”

Evelyn got up more slowly. She searched his gaze, and he did not flinch or look away. “Julianne thinks you are a patriot. She has said so. Paget also believes you innocent of the charge of treason. Jack! The people of France have already shed the yoke of tyranny, so whose freedom are you speaking of?”

“Oh, you are so clever!” His shoved his hands in his breeches’ pockets. “You know that if you have more information, you will be in more danger!”

“We are so close now. You can trust me!” she cried. “Are you spying for the French?”

“Yes.” He was final.

She was shaken, and now, in disbelief. She realized she no longer believed him capable of committing treason. It was impossible. She would never love him as she did if he were a spy for her enemies.

“Evelyn, you have proof—and lots of it.”

“Grenville was once a spy—for both sides.”

“He was genuinely spying for both France and England—he had genuinely cast his patriotism aside.”

She found herself defending Amelia’s husband. “He was protecting those he loved. Is that what you are doing, Jack?”

His eyes widened. “Are you interrogating me now?”

“I have a right to know the truth.”

“No! Your sharing my bed gives you no such right!”

She flinched. “Your French friends have threatened me. They have threatened Aimee. If you are really one of them, then I am in love with someone who does not exist—then I am in love with a man I have created in my imagination!” she cried.

“Stop pushing me,” he chided.

Her mind raced frantically. “Have you told LeClerc when we will invade Quiberon Bay? I do not believe that you could send our troops into the jaws of a trap.”

He stared, jaw tight, eyes ablaze.

“Have you told him? Could you be so callous, so heartless? So mercenary?”

“I am going back to the house,” he flashed.

“Oh, so now you run away from me?”

He whirled.

“I want to know if I am sleeping with a patriot—or a traitor! A hero—or a mercenary! I have every right to know!”

He was red. “You already know. Damn it, Evelyn, fine! I am playing LeClerc for my country, damn it, like Paget, like Grenville, like Lucas, I dance to Warlock’s tune!”

Evelyn almost collapsed in relief.

“I have been put in place to play both sides, but only so we will win in the end!” He spoke now in a harsh whisper. “And I have hated misleading you—I have hated your thinking the worst of me!”

She began to shake. Evelyn glanced at Aimee, but she was now building some small hills in the sand. “In my heart, I never believed that you were a French spy, not even for a moment.”

He was also trembling. Now a look of disbelief crossed his hard face. “You are a witch to have extracted such a confession from me!”

She walked into his arms. “I am so relieved.”

He held her at arm’s length. “Why? Nothing has changed. I am in a dangerous game, and so are you.”

She put her arms around him. “I want you to get out.”

He held her. “I know you do. I cannot, Evelyn. The rebels need me.”

“Then after Quiberon Bay?”

His face hardened and he did not answer her.

* * *

E
VELYN
HELD
HER
DAUGHTER
’
S
hand as they made their way down the rocky path to the beach for their daily outing. She thought that this was the part of the day that she liked best—other than the evenings that she spent with Jack.

The path abruptly turned to deep white sand. Evelyn paused to remove her shoes, as did her daughter. “Can I go ahead?” Aimee asked.

“Of course,” Evelyn replied.

Aimee raced through the deep sand toward the water. Evelyn smiled, lifting her skirts and following more slowly.

A hand touched her shoulder from behind.

Evelyn turned, smiling, expecting to see Jack, who intended to go ashore that day, but had yet to leave. The Viscount LeClerc smiled at her. “Good morning, Countess.”

Her heart seemed to drop through her entire body. She froze, paralyzed with alarm.

“You seem frightened, Countess. But why would you be frightened of me?” He continued to smile.

Jack was not a French spy; Jack was betraying the French and LeClerc; LeClerc would kill her if he knew it.

She glanced past him at Aimee, who ran along the water’s edge, away from them. Horrified, she turned her gaze back to the slim man facing her. “You have frightened me. I did not hear you approach.”

“I did not mean to terrify you,” he said.

“What do you want? Does Jack know you are here?”

“Actually, I wish to speak to Greystone, but to answer your question, no, he does not know I am here. Your daughter is growing up.”

Dread consumed her. “If you ever touch my daughter, I will kill you.”

He chuckled. “And how will you do that? Instead, you might wish to keep your lover on a leash, Countess, making certain he understands his priorities.”

She could not breathe. “Are you threatening me?” But her mind was trying to function now. Did LeClerc know that he was being betrayed by Jack?

“I am reminding you of your priorities,” he said amiably. “Now, won’t you introduce me to your daughter?”

Evelyn felt her fists ball up. “Stay away from her,” she warned.

He shrugged. “Fine. I am going up to the house.” He turned and started toward the rocky path.

Evelyn lifted her skirts and ran down to the water’s edge, catching up to her daughter. Aimee turned and showed her a snail. Evelyn tried to smile. It felt impossible.

LeClerc knew where she was. How could she remain on the island now?

For when he found out that Jack was not his spy, he would come after her and Aimee.

“Mama? What is wrong?” Aimee cried, lowering her hand.

“My stomach is bothering me. I feel ill,” she said swiftly. “Darling, would you mind? I think we must go back to the house.”

Aimee nodded, somber now. Evelyn took her hand and reminded herself not to hurry. Why hadn’t Jack’s men, who kept a twenty-four-hour watch for intruders, spotted LeClerc? She assumed his ship was anchored on the island’s eastern beach.

The walk back to the house, which took ten minutes or so, felt as if it took ten hours. Evelyn steered her daughter into the gardens behind the house and then into the kitchens through a back door. Alice and her daughter were preparing their lunch. Both women started upon seeing them. Evelyn smiled tightly. “Alice, would you please take Aimee upstairs for a moment?”

Alice looked carefully at her, clearly aware of her agitation, and took Aimee from the kitchens. Her heart still pounding, Evelyn hurried into the central part of the house. It was frighteningly silent. She did not hear any voices at all.

She hurried toward the library, afraid of what the silence might mean. Its dark wood door was open. Evelyn cried out.

Jack had LeClerc in a viselike grip, one arm around his throat, choking him. The Frenchman was red. “I do not care to be waylaid by your men, LeClerc, but I like it even less when you threaten Evelyn and her daughter,” Jack snarled. His expression was frightening and vicious.

This would not help anything, she thought wildly. “Jack! Stop!”

He started, espying her. “Go away, Evelyn.” He did not release LeClerc.

“No, Evelyn, stay,” LeClerc choked out, “and tell him about our friendly chat on the beach.”

Evelyn knew she blanched. “Jack, please! You are not thinking clearly!”

“Did he threaten you again?” Jack cried.

“No!” she lied frantically.

Jack released LeClerc, pushing him away hard as he did so. LeClerc stumbled but righted himself by catching an edge of Jack’s desk. Then he straightened, smiling coldly as he did so. “Are you now declaring your loyalties, Greystone?” His jacket was askew, and Evelyn now saw the pistol holstered on his belt.

Jack glared. “I have not given you permission to call, LeClerc. The next time you appear here without notice, my men will undoubtedly shoot first and ask questions later.”

“So now you threaten me?” He was amused.

“I am telling you that this is my island. Here, I am king. And if you wish to meet with me, you will arrange it beforehand.” Jack’s eyes blazed. But he glanced quickly at Evelyn.

She knew he wanted to see if she was really all right—if she had been telling the truth. She nodded at him, aware that she wasn’t all right, not at all.

“I want to speak with you, and there wasn’t time to arrange a meeting in advance.”

“There is always time.”

“Really? Maybe, Greystone, you are becoming too complacent in your duties.”

Jack stared as coldly back. “I am never complacent, and especially not about war.”

“A naval squadron is sailing toward Plymouth, where three supply ships are in the harbor.”

Jack’s expression never changed. His eyes did not flicker. He slowly looked at Evelyn. “Would you please leave us? And close the door.”

Evelyn stared, wanting to know what they meant to discuss. Obviously they would speak of the war, and perhaps the invasion of France. She finally nodded and rushed from the room, shutting the door behind her. Then, shamelessly, she put her ear to it. It was so hard to hear, because her heart was hammering so loudly.

“There is gossip that the invasion of Quiberon Bay is imminent. You told me it was planned for mid-July. Has the date been changed?” LeClerc asked briskly.

Evelyn felt her heart pound as she listened.

“I do not know if the date was changed. My sources claim the invasion will take place on July 15.”

“Then I hope, for your sake, that your sources are right.”

“And if my sources are wrong?” Jack’s tone was challenging. “I would think twice about making more threats, Victor.”

“You need me, Greystone, and your country—Britain—needs me. You are better off with men like myself in power and you know it. So make certain your sources are right.”

Evelyn strained to hear, but there was a silence now.

“I will check,” Jack finally said. “But I cannot believe there would be changes without my knowing it.”

“Ah, yes. You betray even your own brother now.” LeClerc’s tone was mocking, and maybe skeptical.

“What else do you want to discuss?” Jack asked sharply. “Because if you are done, I suggest you take your leave.”

“You are a fool, Greystone, to allow a woman to unravel you as she has done.”

Booted footsteps sounded, approaching. Evelyn leaped away from the door as it opened. LeClerc saw her a moment before Jack did, and he laughed. He turned to Jack. “You know, we can always use another agent, especially a beautiful female one.” He hurried past her, his smile gone, his expression hard and frightening.

Evelyn collapsed against the wall as Jack seized her arm.

“You were eavesdropping!” he accused.

“Yes, and I heard every word!” she cried.

He pulled her into the library, slamming the door angrily closed. “Damn it, Evelyn, it is as if you wish to become so deeply involved that you have but one certain fate!”

Evelyn stared in dismay at him, then turned, opened the door and glanced out. LeClerc was gone. “There will not be an invasion July 15, will there?”

“I am not answering that!”

“Is that naval squadron a part of the invasion forces? Is it? Jack! Will there be an invasion soon? It is mid-June, not mid July!”

“If you think I am telling you war secrets, you are mad! But I will tell you this—our idyll here has just ended.”

Evelyn stumbled to the couch and sat down. Jack was misleading LeClerc. LeClerc thought the invasion imminent, and he was probably right. And when it came—when it came before July 15—he would know Jack was truly a British agent.

He sat down beside her and pulled her close. “You can’t stay here now, Evelyn, not after LeClerc has realized you are here. It isn’t safe.”

He was right. “I have nowhere to go.”

“You are wrong. You can return to London.” He smiled grimly. “The warrant for your arrest was rescinded ten days ago.”

She started. “You didn’t tell me?”

He seemed to blush. And he pulled her closer. “No, I didn’t tell you. Pitt quickly agreed to its dismissal, once Paget had a chance to speak with him.” He paused, watching her. “I didn’t want you to leave, not yet. I did not want this to end.”

Evelyn felt tears arise. “Our idyll is truly over.”

He wiped a stray tear away from her cheek, then tucked some hair behind her ears. “Yes. I’m afraid it is.”

It was as if her heart was breaking another time! “So I will go back to London. And you? Where will you go, Jack?”

His lashes lowered. “What makes you think I will go anywhere?”

Oh, she felt like smacking him silly! “There is a naval squadron approaching Plymouth. Will it then go on to France? To Britanny? To Quiberon Bay?”

He stared directly at her now.

“Where will you be, Jack, when they invade Britanny?”

He studied her in silence. His expression was so somber now.

“Oh, let me guess! You are going to France—to Quiberon Bay!” she cried. She seized his shoulders. “Don’t go, Jack. Please. For me, and for my daughter. You have done enough to help the rebels. You have done enough to help Britain!”

Jack was calm. “You know I cannot—will not—reveal my plans to you. But most of all, you know I am not a coward.”

She simply stared, her insides curdling. He was going to France. She was certain.