Sweet Treason (Entangled Ignite) (18 page)

“You’ve been using Oak Hill? Both of you? Bridey? My maid and confidant?” She covered her eyes as if she could not bear this news. “Oh, I cannot think about that now, or I’ll go mad.

“She didn’t spy on you, Emmy. She has never betrayed any of your confidences, even when I asked. She only passed the messages left here, in the summerhouse. Bridey would watch for them and route them to me.”

She held her stomach and rocked inconsolably. “All along, or ever since Bridey came to Oak Hill, you’ve been endangering everything I hold dear?”

Ah, perdition! He felt as if he’d destroyed everything she’d ever believed in. “She loves you, Emmy. She’s always been loyal to you.”

“Risking everything I held dear?
That
was loyalty? The night you came through my window—you were looking for Bridey? You led the soldiers here?”

“Emmy—”

“You must stop at once.”

“Believe me, if I could, it would be done already.”

“What prevents you?”

“There is nowhere else safe enough, private enough, to meet to leave messages and meet when circumstances require it. And Emmy, do not think of dismissing Bridey. We need her here.”

“May I go now?” she asked in a whisper. “I feel a little sick.”

“Aye. I’ll have to search Archer for a written message. Uncle Samuel and I will stay the remainder of the night. I will convince him that it would be best to keep Archer’s presence at Oak Hill a secret and to bury him here. Try to get some sleep. I swear I won’t let this touch you.”

Looking infinitely weary and disillusioned, she stood and left without another word.

Ah, dear God. He hadn’t wanted his duty to touch her in any way. But now she’d been dragged into it, and in the worst possible circumstances. She’d never forgive him.

Chapter Seventeen

Ryan locked his door at the Lakeland Inn. Bad news traveled fast. By the time he’d reported the disaster to Archer’s contacts in Hampshire and returned to London, he’d found a message from Johnson awaiting him. He was to contact Joseph Barker in Whitechapel and pass him the reins for intelligence gathering in the southeast district. Bloody hell! It had taken Archer’s death to make his superiors understand how seriously the operation had been compromised. But before he could do that, he would have to find Taylor, extract the name of the enemy
he
reported to, and plug that leak.

He stared down at the letter in his hand and read it again. Yes, it was the very definition or irony. Here, finally in his hands, was his permission to return home to his family and friends. His country. He dropped his orders on the banked coals, waiting for them to turn to ash before he stirred the fire to life again.

Would that this business had been done
before
he’d met Emily Nevins. The independent chit was the only woman he’d ever met who could keep his heart hanging on her every smile. She was one of the most principled, courageous people he knew. She was strong, competent, and determined—qualities sadly lacking in the females in his own family. His mother fell into vapors over a mild profanity. His father’s life had been one of subjugating his own goals and needs for hers. His mother’s demands had ruled their lives. Ryan wanted a partner for a wife, not a millstone.

Ah, but Emily had made it clear in every conceivable way that she would never be that wife. Never allow herself to love him. Never consider him better than a traitor to the crown. And certainly never forsake Oak Hill for him. He would learn to live with that before he’d expose himself to yet another rejection. A man could only take so much. He’d leave England after he cleaned up some unpleasant business. One more task and he’d be ready to turn his attention to Neil Taylor.

…

Ryan glanced at Devaux in the early twilight and noted the grim look on the man’s face. He had no doubt his own was as fierce. With a nod to his companion, he rapped sharply on Henry Dodge’s door. After a reasonable wait, he knocked again, louder and more insistent.

The housekeeper appeared through a crack in the door. “Mr. Dodge is not in.”

Ryan, out of patience, snarled. “Like hell.”

Devaux pushed the door inward, sliding the housekeeper back with it.

She was aghast. “You cannot!”

Ryan stepped around her into the foyer with Devaux close behind. “Tell Dodge we’ll be in the study. And if he is thinking of slipping out the back, tell him one or both of us will remain here until he presents himself.”

“But—”

Devaux held up one imperious hand. “Don’t bother lying, madam. We know he’s here. We’ve had men watching.”

Her face white and her lips pressed together, the woman backed away as they headed for the study.

Ryan found the brandy decanter on the desk and poured two glasses. “I swear to God I’ll rip that bastard apart.”

“Keep yourself together, man. You cannot help Emily if you’re locked up for murder, though if half of what you’ve said is true, the bastard reprobate deserves it.”

“She is most concerned that he will come after Miss Lucy next.”

Devaux narrowed his eyes as he lifted his glass. “I’ll flay him first.”

They turned at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. A moment later Henry Dodge appeared, a look of righteous indignation on his face. “Here now! What is the meaning of this intrusion?”

Ryan took a deep breath and controlled his urge to pummel the man. “Where shall I start? With the violation of your duty to Miss Nevins’s mother? Or with the lies you’ve told from the beginning? Or perhaps one of the numerous deceptions you’ve perpetrated over the years?”

The man’s chest puffed out even as his face became florid. “I’ve done nothing of the sort! Leave or I’ll send for the watch.”

“Please do,” Ryan drawled, effectively calling his bluff.

“What has the chit told you?”

In truth, Emily had told him very little, but Bridey had been more forthcoming. “Do you really want me to recite a list of her grievances? Shall we start with the violation of her privacy? Then—”

Dodge held up a hand in protest. “I never violated her person.”

“Until your rather forceful proposal of marriage? Ripping her clothes from her, I believe, crossed the line.”

“Get out!” Dodge sputtered. “I do not have to listen to this from you! If she has a complaint, she may take it up with me personally!”

“You know she will not. She has no wish to see you ever again. Ah, but Mrs. Nevins is another matter. She will be in high dudgeon when word of your treachery reaches her, and only Miss Nevins’s assurances that the matter is settled will keep her from the London courts.”

“That’s preposterous! A proposal of marriage is hardly a prosecutable offense.”

“Oh, I daresay if we look close enough, we shall find something prosecutable,” Devaux said in his haughtiest tone. “And if pressed, I know Miss Nevins will bring herself to testify.”

“That would not go well. It is my word against hers, and I am a man of substance and good reputation.”

Ryan finished his brandy and clenched his fists to keep from going for Dodge’s throat. “And Miss Nevins will have a mother, neighbors, and friends of higher standing than yours supporting her. Even should the courts find she had not proved her case, your reputation would be forever tarnished. And if pushed to that point, I would have no compunction in making your violation of her privacy quite public.”

The man slumped into a chair. “What do you want? Why are you here?”

“It is Miss Nevins’s wish that you resign your trusteeship in favor of Samuel Davis for the duration of the trust which, I believe, is a matter of weeks. My uncle has already consented to act on her behalf.”

“Absurd. Why, the paperwork will take longer—”

“You will have the paperwork done and filed before noon tomorrow. Before you leave town.”

“Leave town? I am not—”

“Leaving to spend the summer in Bath with your daughters. Directly after filing the papers.”

“I cannot do any such thing. I have duties. Responsibilities.”

“Take them with you,” Devaux ground between clenched teeth.

“What assurance do I have that Miss Nevins will not do all you have threatened anyway?”

“She has no particular wish for all and sundry to know the details of your parting of ways. She will, however, denounce you if you cross her in any way or violate her terms.”

“Her terms? These are
her
terms?”

Ryan was certain they would be once she heard them. “They are.”

Dodge looked deflated and not a little haggard. “The accounting…”

“Yes?” Ryan asked. He suspected they might be coming to the crux of the matter.

“There have been…losses.”

Devaux arched an eyebrow. “Extensive losses?”

“Er…not precisely
extensive
.”

“Significant?”

“The bulk of her fortune is still intact.”

“And the nature of the losses?”

“Various. Mostly failed investments.”

“
Bad
investments?”

“See here, no one could know—”

“Or embezzlement?” Devaux waved one hand to silence Dodge. “We shall not quibble over words. Make a thorough and honest accounting to Squire Davis, and we shall see where we stand. Meanwhile, we will suggest to Miss Nevins that repayment would benefit her more than a lawsuit.”

Henry Dodge exhaled and seemed to shrink in size. “You have no right. I am—”

Ryan had had enough. He seized Dodge by his cravat and hauled him to his feet. “You dare speak of rights? You violated every single one of Miss Nevins’s rights. You ordered her about, used her inheritance to fund your investments, and left her to take the loss. You attempted to rape her to force her into marriage to cover your deeds. And when we see the accounting, I expect to see that you’ve been overcharging her on the quarterly taxes and payments, and pocketing the money for yourself. You have abused your position in every way you could. Faugh!” He pushed Dodge backward into the chair again. “You are a leech, sir, feeding off your betters.”

Devaux clamped a hand over Ryan’s shoulder to keep him from beating the man. “Come away, Sutton. My man will be waiting to see that the papers for the transfer of trusteeship are filed and recorded tomorrow by noon.” He turned a baleful eye on Dodge. “And then I shall turn Sutton loose. I’d be gone if I were you.”

…

Sitting in the Davis’s lavish London town home two weeks later, Emily smiled at her sister’s moon-eyed expression. Poor thing was head over heels.

Lucy sighed. “Jonah is…is…has been…”

“Simply wonderful,” she finished when Lucy seemed incapable of words. “I wonder if I should believe you, Lucy. To my jaundiced eyes, you appear to have stars in yours. Goodness, you cannot be in love? Why, you’ve scarce known him a fortnight!”

“But I believe I am quite love-struck. He makes my heart beat faster, and he makes me laugh. There is simply no better company. And Emmy, when you disappeared so abruptly, he stepped in when Mr. Dodge came to collect me to take me to his house. I swear, Jonah—Lord Devaux—is very forceful. And so gallant it makes me swoon.”

“
Jonah
? I am gone two weeks, and you are on first names?”

Lucy giggled and looked down into her teacup.

Despite the surprise of finding her sister so effusive, she was pleased. Devaux was a good man, and Lucy could have done much worse. Emily sipped her tea and smiled again, feeling quite smug. She and Devaux were good friends, and she knew if he encouraged Lucy, he would be serious, too.

Lucy blushed as the man in question entered the drawing room. He smiled at them, and Emily realized he was genuinely glad to see her. “Here you are, back in London! I dared not think you would return after just a fortnight.”

“The opportunity arose, so…” Emily shrugged.

“Well, I am pleased. Several people have been asking after you. Miss Roberts is having a musicale tonight, and you must come. Everyone will be pleased to see you, and I am always the object of envy when I can escort two beautiful women.”

“Do you know if Mr. Dodge will be there?”

His short bark of laughter surprised her. “Not bloody likely. When Sutton got back to town and came to me to tell me what had happened, he and I paid your trustee a little visit. Dodge blustered, but it was of no consequence. Sutton said he’d dispatched a letter to your mother straightaway, and no doubt she would be coming, and that meantime, the Nevins girls were forbidden to him.”

Relief washed through her. She’d been worried about what Mr. Dodge would do when he found out she was back. And how very clever of Ryan to invoke the wrath of her mother. At least she’s have a fair stretch of time to think of something to hold Mr. Dodge off.

Lucy smiled. “You could not have spent another moment under that man’s roof. But now you will be able to stay with us. I believe Audrey and Bridey are already supervising the footmen in unloading your trunk.”

Bridey. Her watchdog. Her maid’s betrayal still stung. Could Emily ever trust her again? Be friends again?

“And you know that Lord Devaux, Brock, and Mr. Sutton can protect you from Mr. Dodge. Why, when I heard what he’d done…oh! I nearly marched over to his house and gave him a piece of my mind. And my boot to his backside!”

“Er, I wouldn’t worry about that any time soon.” Devaux looked a bit chagrinned. “You see, when Sutton and I paid him that little visit, Sutton, uh, encouraged him to join his daughters in Bath. Said it might be the safest place for him in the foreseeable future.”

Emily glanced down into her teacup and wondered why she couldn’t feel anything—relief, happiness, curiosity, gratitude, even fear or dread. Something inside her had died and been buried with John Archer in the family plot. Still, it was good to know that Ryan had secured her future.

Lucy took her hand. “Please, Emmy, you must stay in London. Brock and Audrey have been begging you to come for years, and you and I have years to make up for.”

Devaux nodded. “Once it was known that you were returning, Miss Lucy has been inundated with invitations including you.”

“You exaggerate,” Emily protested.

Lucy poured more tea into her cup. “Not at all. Why, you were a great success. Sir Edmund Jennings has been especially anxious for your return.”

“Jennings?” She smiled to think he’d thought of her. He’d always been most kind, and she rather liked his droll sense of humor. The last time she’d seen him was at the masque. And then she remembered….

“What became of Janet Turner?”

Devaux’s lip curled. “Thoroughly enjoying her freedom. Peele left her quite a sum, and without him in the way, she can carry on however she pleases. I’ve heard tell of…ah—”

“Lord Devaux!” Lucy admonished.

Emily shrugged. “I am certain we can imagine what Miss Turner is capable of.”

“I do not think so, Miss Nevins,” he answered archly. “If you can, I’ve misjudged you.”

“Is she well, I meant. Lord Peele fired two shots, and I’ve worried that Miss Turner was injured. Or her companion?” Emily put her teacup on the table and folded her hands in her lap.

“Miss Turner is unharmed, but we do not know about the man. He escaped without anyone recognizing him, though it is thought he may have been wounded, since the other ball was never found. For whatever reason, the man has not come forward. Likely a married man.”

“So tragic…” Emily muttered.

Devaux cleared his throat. “I believe we were discussing social engagements? And they start this very evening with Miss Roberts’s musicale. She insists we all come. I rather enjoy her wit.”

“She is amusing,” Lucy agreed.

Emily realized she was looking forward to the distraction.

…

Dressed carefully for the evening, Emily wanted to be certain her re-entry into London society was smoothly and effortlessly achieved. The quieter her appearance, the less talk there would be.