Sweet Treason (Entangled Ignite) (22 page)

“Not necessary, my dear. I have one of my own. I’ve often found it necessary to travel incognito.”

Emily shivered, pushing away the thought of the little orange girl. She still had one more errand.

…

Understated elegance would aptly describe the foyer at Devaux House. A highly polished mahogany table bearing a large vase of flowers stood in the center of the Italian marble floor just before a staircase that rose halfway up the far wall before splitting to climb on both sides of the foyer to a second floor. A porcelain chandelier hung above the entry table, casting clear light throughout.

Emily glanced around as she pulled her gloves off and waited only a few moments before she heard confident footsteps coming down one corridor. When Lord Devaux appeared, his grin widened.

“Miss Nevins. How nice to see you.”

She offered her hand and dropped a small curtsy, feeling a bit formal and awkward. They’d always been so natural, but then she’d never come to call on him. To ask so great a favor. She suspected she must be mad to even contemplate having this conversation with him.

He offered his arm and left instructions for his butler, who had followed him back from whatever recess he’d inhabited. “Peters, bring tea to the conservatory, will you?”

As they entered a glassed-in room filled with potted palms, dwarf orange and cherry trees, orchids, and every imaginable exotic plant, he asked, “Is this
The Talk
?”

“The talk?”

“Lacking a male representative at the moment, I gather you’ve come to ask my intentions regarding Miss Lucy?”

She was momentarily disconcerted. She had, but not in the manner he meant. “Why do you think so?”

“There could only be two reasons that you would come to me. Your sister and Ryan Sutton.”

She hadn’t intended to discuss Ryan. Too dangerous. Devaux led her to a cozy seating area, and she sat when he indicated a wickerwork chair with chintz cushions with a sweep of his hand.

“I hope it is the happy subject of Miss Lucy rather than Mr. Sutton. Alas, there is nothing I can do for him.”

She’d thought as much. Devaux would suspect her concern, of course, but there was nothing she could do about that. Her only goal at the moment was to protect Lucy.

“I have come to ask a favor, Devaux. One that you may not wish to grant.”

He sat in the chair across the tea table from her, and his friendly smile faded. “This sounds ominous.”

“It could become so, though I pray not. It does affect Lucy.”

“I would do anything for her. And I know you would, too.”

She pushed her gloves into her reticule as the butler brought a tea tray and set it on the table between them. They were both silent until the butler was gone, which told her that Devaux sensed the private nature of her request.

She took a deep breath and began. “I have spent the better part of my life trying to keep Lucy safe, but if something should happen to me, I need to know she will be looked after.” Her hands only shook a little when she took the teapot in hand and poured.

He leaned forward, an anxious look on his face. “Emily, are you ill?”

“So much has happened that I had never planned for, and I must know that Lucy will not suffer for anything I might have said or done. I must know she is safe and cared for if I cannot do it for her.” She tried to keep her voice light, but she knew Devaux was concerned. And perhaps suspicious.

“Shall I assume you do not trust your fiancé to perform that task?”

Edmund. She nearly shuddered. “Edmund only has Edmund’s best interests in mind.”

He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Denounce him.”

She placed his teacup on the table in front of him. “We have covered this subject, Devaux. I cannot.”

“I’ve never much cared for the man. I was astounded when he announced your engagement. Had you asked my opinion, I’d have advised strongly against any such alliance.”

“It is done, Devaux, and I must stand by my word. But Lucy is another matter.”

“I am loathe to think of Miss Lucy under his roof. Shall I ask Squire Davis to take her in once you are married?” Devaux glanced heavenward. “I had not thought to rush her. To ask her hand so soon—”

“I am not asking that much.”

“I’ve been coming to it—”

“Stop, please! I am so grateful for everything you and Mr. Sutton have already done for us—making Squire Davis our trustee, severing our ties to Mr. Dodge, keeping my mother’s death a secret…there are no words for how much that means to me. To us.

“Lucy does not know I am here. I think she would be mortified. I only came because I hoped to gain your reassurance that, if Lucy needs someone more powerful than the Squire to protect her, you will act in his stead. That you will do all you can for her.”

“Why would…Emily, are you in some sort of trouble?”

“Please, Devaux. I will tell you eventually, but I must have your answer on this. Whatever is coming, I assure you that Lucy is not…and never has been…a part of it.”

He frowned and studied her for a long moment. “Does this have anything to do with Sutton?”

What a tangle her life had become. She could not even begin to explain the stream of events that had begun one stormy midnight in Sussex and led her to his door. “There is so much you do not know, Devaux. Would it matter?”

“Not if Miss Lucy is innocent.”

She shook her head. “I assure you, Lucy has nothing to do with Mr. Sutton’s activities. She was as shocked by his arrest as his cousin and the Squire.”

“But not you?”

“Yes, I was shocked by his arrest.” Heavens, she’d done everything she could to prevent it—even agreed to marry Edmund Jennings. It had never occurred to her that some random eavesdropper might betray him.

Devaux ignored his cup and stood to pace in a circle around the seating area. “Christ! I
liked
Sutton. Considered him my friend. I wish to hell that Jennings had never knocked on my door with that news.”

“What news?”

“Why, that he’d caught Sutton red-handed. Had him followed. There was no room for doubt, Emily. What could I do but sign an arrest warrant?”

Emily’s head spun.
Jennings
, despite his promise and her consent to marriage, had betrayed Ryan! And Devaux?
Devaux
had ordered Ryan’s arrest? “But why?”

“Jennings presented compelling evidence. A message passed to Sutton—”

“But why did he come to you?”

He stopped pacing and faced her with an odd look. “It is my job, Emily. It is not commonly known, but I am charged with counterespionage in London. Did you not know that?”

She put her cup down before she could spill it. Tears welled in her eyes. Ryan and Devaux. Two good men. Honest men. In the service of their country. How could she blame either of them?

Ah, but she could blame Edmund. A liar, a cheat. A man of much worse character than any she’d ever known—even Henry Dodge. Jennings had known Devaux was innocent but had used him against her anyway. And Jennings walked free. And he
owned
her.

She looked up at Devaux and tried again. “Are you certain? Edmund has always disliked Mr. Sutton. I would not put it past him to contrive some circumstance that would make Mr. Sutton look guilty.”

“There can be no doubt, Emily. None. I wish to God there were. I’ve suspected something of the sort for quite some time, but I had nothing to act on. Then, when Jennings brought proof, and one of my agents was killed, there was little else I could do.”

She bowed her head, trying to make sense of this. She’d sold her soul to the devil. She’d accepted Edmund’s proposal to keep Ryan safe. She’d been willing to endure God only knows what to ensure Lucy and Devaux remained free. All for naught. This could not stand!

But Lucy. She had to make certain Lucy was not dragged into this. She stood and took Devaux’s hand. “Promise me, Devaux, no matter what transpires, you will not let any of this touch Lucy. She must be safe. She is a true innocent in this mess.”

“What do you fear, Emily?”

“That…that Edmund may manufacture some evidence against me if I should decide to denounce him. That Lucy will be tainted because of that. That she may be made to pay for the sins of others.”

He squeezed her hands. “I will never allow that,” he vowed.

She exhaled in relief. “Thank you.”

“And you? Is there nothing you would ask for yourself?”

She removed her sealed letter from her reticule and handed it to him. “Keep this safe for me. Promise you will open it only if I am gone.”

“What…?”

She held up one hand to stop him. “Merely a precaution. One can never predict what Sir Edmund might do.” She was on her own again. She smiled for the first time in days. “Your vow to protect Lucy means the world to me.”

He lowered his head and spoke softly, a slight flush infusing his cheeks. “I will soon be coming to you and Squire Davis to ask a great favor regarding your sister.”

Pray he would not change his mind when he opened that letter.

…

At noon the next day, a note from Sir Edmund was delivered. With trembling fingers she broke the seal and read the message.

My dear Emily,

I shall call for you at eight o’clock
.
Be ready and say nothing to anyone of our business. I have arranged for us to be private afterward. We shall celebrate Sutton’s downfall and marry in the morning.

Yrs. E.J.

She tossed the note in the fire and watched it curl at the edges as it turned to ashes. Only one more errand for Bridey. Then all would be prepared.

…

Dressed in her dark green velvet riding habit, Emily awaited Edmund in the parlor with Brock and Lucy as company.

“I am pleased to see you in good spirits again,” Brock commented. “Your eyes are all a-twinkle. Are you excited about something, Emily?”

Lucy frowned. “That’s hardly an evening dress, Emmy.”

“Edmund has seen all the rest,” she murmured.

“Then we shall go shopping tomorrow. I’d love a new gown, and you shall have one, too.”

Brock groaned. “A new gown for Edmund’s sake? I thought you’d cut him, Emily.”

“Believe me, Edmund will know precisely where I stand before this night is done. You shan’t see him around here again.”

“There’s my girl.” He smiled and patted her on the shoulder.

A footman knocked to announce that Jennings was waiting in the foyer. Emily stood on tip-toe to kiss Brock’s cheek, then bent to hug Lucy tightly—the last time she’d be free to hug them without bars between them. If she lived out the night.

She whispered in Lucy’s ear. “Have I told you how very much I love you? Well, I do. Remember that—always.”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed. “Emily? What are you about?”

She waved from the foyer as she took her dark hooded cloak from the footman, one pocket much heavier than the other. “Do not wait up!” She took Sir Edmund’s arm and dashed down the front steps at his side.

Chapter Twenty

The public coach set a brisk pace, matching Emily’s racing heart. Sir Edmund, however, seemed unaffected. Sitting across from her, he watched her with a gleam of speculation. She knew he did not fully trust her, but he was confident enough in his threats to believe she’d been subdued. For better or worse, he’d soon learn the truth.

She glanced out at the blackness of night, the moon hidden by clouds laden with threatening rain. She tried to ignore Sir Edmund’s shoe as it slipped beneath the hem of her skirt and moved higher, exposing her ankles and finally her knees.

“Damn. We shall have to finish with Sutton quickly. I’ve been looking forward to tonight. I’ve hired a room near to Newgate. Won’t be long, I vow, before I know you in all ways, m’dear.”

She forced a smile that felt more like a grimace. “I hope you like what you find, sir.”

“Oh, do not worry on that account. All you’ll need do is spread your legs at first. Aye, I might take you in the coach on the way. Later, I will require more of you.”

Emily could not keep from thinking how humbled and punished she could be by tomorrow morning. She swallowed her nausea at the thought. Oh, but it would be worth every bit of anything Sir Edmund could mete out.

She could barely endure his hand cupping her elbow as he handed her down from the coach at Newgate Prison. As she pulled the hood of her cloak up, Edmund paid the driver and waved him away.

A waiting guard, his hand out for the bribe, led them through a succession of corridors and locked doors. Sir Edmund had evidently had the foresight to bribe both the night gaoler and the guards.

When Ryan’s cell was unlocked for them at last, and the guard had touched his torch to the one in the darkened cell, Sir Edmund withdrew a flask of raw whiskey from a deep pocket inside his cloak, gave it to the guard, and told him he’d call for him when they were done.

“How clever of you, Sir Edmund,” she praised sincerely. “I’d never have thought of that.”

He gave her a smug smile as they stepped into the tiny cell, and the guard closed and locked the door behind them. “You shall soon learn how very resourceful I can be, m’dear.”

Ryan blinked in the torchlight as he sat up from a ragged pallet. He appeared to have been stripped of anything warm or comfortable. Devaux had apparently wasted his money to insure Ryan’s comfort. He was in shirtsleeves, unshaven, and there were bruises on one side of his face, as if he’d been clubbed or thrown against the stone wall.

Frowning, Ryan took a step forward. “Emily? You should not have come.”

Sir Edmund took a step forward to face Ryan, his back to her now—a serious error. “She came to gloat, you colonial cur. She’ll be in
my
bed tonight, doing whatever I tell her. By morning I’ll have used her in every way possible.”

Ryan’s jaw clenched so tightly she feared his teeth would break.

“Aye,” Emily agreed over Sir Edmund’s shoulder as she reached into her own pocket for the small hammer she’d taken from the garden shed. Before he could turn, she hit him over the head to the sound of a sickening dull thunk.

Sir Edmund stumbled, recovered, and turned on her.

Oh! She hadn’t hit him hard enough to render him unconscious. She took two backward steps before her back was against the wall. His eyes were wild, and he snarled something incomprehensible. Then, “Treacherous bitch! You will pay for this! Every day for the rest of your life!” He lifted one arm to backhand her.

Ryan seized his arm and swung him fast and hard against the wall. This time, his head made a cracking sound. Sir Edmund’s eyes went wide, and his mouth opened in a silent scream as he slid the length of the wall to the stone floor.

Kneeling beside him, Ryan felt for a pulse at his throat. “Christ! He’s dead. Well, no matter. At least you will be rid of him, and they cannot do worse to me.”

Fighting panic, Emily stooped and untied the cord of Edmund’s cloak. Her plan hadn’t included Edmund’s death, but that couldn’t be helped now. “Quickly, Ryan. Change clothes with Edmund.”

“Emmy, I can’t let you risk—”

“It is done. Do not let it be for nothing. Hurry, please.”

When Ryan stripped Edmund’s clothes, Emily tugged Ryan’s shirt over Edmund’s head as Ryan tried to fit Edmund’s tailored shirt over his own broad chest. He finally gave up and helped Emily pull his torn breeches up Edmund’s hips, drag him onto the pallet and roll him over with his back to the door.

Less than quarter of an hour had passed and, with a nod from Emily, Ryan called the guard in a muffled voice.

She thought of Lord Peele, the orange girl, Ryan, Devaux, and Lucy and what he’d planned for her, and that they all would have been living on borrowed time, and she could not be sorry. She looked up at Ryan, truly seeing him for the first time since entering his cell. She trailed her fingers down his bruised face and sighed. “He was a horrible man, Ryan.”

The echo of footsteps carried to them. She stood and tossed Ryan Edmund’s cloak. “Quickly! Put this on.”

Ryan pulled the deep cowl over his head and snatched the torch from its bracket while Emily faced the figure on the pallet.

“So you see, Mr. Sutton,” she said in a normal tone of voice, “’twill do no good to turn your back on us. We know your crimes, and we shall testify to them.”

The key turned in the lock, and the door opened. Emily whirled, knocking her hood back deliberately. The gaoler focused on her instead of the Sir Edmund.

“Sir!” she exclaimed. She turned to Ryan’s shrouded form. “I…please forgive me. I know we were not to be seen, and thus recognized.”

“Stupid wench! Shut up,” he snarled. He surprised her by gripping her arm, pushing her roughly through the door, and forcing the gaoler into the corridor. His face still shrouded, he groped for a coin in Edmund’s waistcoat pocket and extended his hand to the gaoler. “We shan’t be recognized, shall we, my good man?”

The gaoler took the coin from Ryan’s palm. “Recognize who, sir? ’Tweren’t nobody here at all.” He locked the cell and gestured for them to follow him.

Ryan kept a grip on Emily’s shoulder and pushed her roughly each time the gaoler turned. They hurried along the dank corridors without another word spoken until they stood outside the gates of the prison.

She felt dazed. Astonished that her plan had actually worked. But Edmund was dead. Oh, but at least now Devaux, Bridey, and Lucy would be safe. Truly safe.

Ryan gripped her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “I have just taken you hostage, Emmy. Do you understand?”

“But—”

“I will not take another step until I am certain you will not be punished for this. Now, do I have a plan?”

She smiled, realizing that Ryan’s roughness in Newgate would be interpreted as hostility. He was giving her a defense for her actions. Within inches of the gallows, he still thought of her first.

She pulled him along Newgate Street, then turned down Fleet Street at a pace that made conversation impossible. Within minutes, they arrived at the Black Bell Tavern, and Emily led Ryan around back to the stable yard where Bridey was pacing with two saddled horses.

Her eyes widened, and she grinned. “Oh! Bless you, miss! I only hoped what you were up to.”

Emily took one set of reins and passed them to Ryan. “Hurry, please. Both of you. We cannot know how quickly they will discover what we’ve done. You should have until morning before Edmund is discovered, but—”

“Emmy—”

Tears clouded her eyes. Victory and loss mingled in her heart, leaving her emotions frayed. “Go, Ryan. God be with you.”

“Bridey?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I’m stayin,’ sir. Not a soul knows about me. I’ll wait until Captain Barker is back, then I’ll go back to Oak Hill. Now, you take Miss Emily, Major. You may need a hostage if you’re stopped. And,” she removed a leather pouch from the folds of her cloak and gave it to Ryan, “here’s what I got from your rooms, sir.”

Emily took the reins from Bridey. “Any word from Oak Hill?”

“Haven’t heard a thing, miss. Don’t know what you’ll find.”

She closed her eyes and said a little prayer as Ryan lifted her into the saddle.