Silver Deceptions

by Sabrina Jeffries

  When Walcester seemed at a loss for words, she went on relentlessly. “So the next time you see me on the stage or hear of my scandalous exploits, you remember what you did to my mother. Because from now on, everyone will know I’m the Earl of Walcester’s daughter. Everyone!”

  “Annabelle, don’t do this,” Colin growled, but she ignored him.

  “And you know what else?” she hissed. “The Silver Swan will rue the day he abandoned my mother to the torments of a cruel man. Because I am going to be an unforgettable daughter. Most unforgettable.”

  Walcester paled. “What do you know about the Silver Swan, you damned impertinent wench! You’ll tell me what you know or I’ll shake it out of you!”

  When Walcester reached out to grab her, Colin stepped forward, but she was already fleeing down the stairs.

  “Come back, damn you!” The earl strode after her. “You come back here, girl, or I swear you’ll regret it! When I get through with you—”

  “Leave her be!” Colin ordered. Bad enough that the woman had stirred up a hornet’s nest with her taunt about the Silver Swan, but now she thought to wander about the city alone in the dead of night? No matter how angry she was, he couldn’t let her.

  But before he could go after her, Walcester blocked his path. “What did she mean? How much does she know about the Silver Swan?”

  “You’ve just wounded your daughter beyond repair,” Colin growled, “and all you can think about is your damnable code name? Hell and furies, man, don’t you have an ounce of feeling in those veins?”

  For the first time since Walcester had arrived, Colin saw ambivalence flash over the stern face, but it was quickly masked. “When your past is as treacherous as mine—when all you’ve worked for is in jeopardy of being ruined because some girl has taken it into her head to destroy you—you can’t coddle yourself. Feelings are dangerous. You should have learned that by now.”

  He had, in the king’s service. And that was precisely why he planned to leave it. Because he wanted to feel again. He wanted to live without trying to guess the meaning behind every smile.

  Which was why he must find Annabelle. He had to make her see that he regretted what he’d done, or he just might lose his soul.

  “You owe me answers,” the earl went on.

  “And you will have them,” Colin snapped. “In a moment.”

  He shoved past the earl and raced down and into the street. But she was gone. Damn it all. How could she be gone so quickly?

  “Your lordship,” his footman came up to say, “the lady took a hackney that was waiting for the earl.”

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  “No, my lord. I’m sorry.”

  His blood froze in his veins. She was out there alone and hurting, and it was all his fault. As he headed back into the house to dress, he told the footman, “Fetch me a fresh horse. And call for my coach to carry the earl wherever he wishes.”

  Walcester, standing in the foyer, heard him and growled, “I’m not going anywhere until you answer my questions, damn you!”

  Colin stared him down. “Fine, then stay here until my return. But if you want to know what she knows, what I have learned about the Silver Swan on my own, then you can damned well wait for your answers until I find her.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,

  Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.”

  —William Congreve, The Mourning Bride, Act 3, Sc. 8

  Annabelle warmed herself at the fire she’d made in the hearth of the tiring-room. No one would look for her at the closed theater so late in the evening. Not even Colin.

  Colin. Tears clogged her throat. How could she look at him again, knowing that he’d been in league with her father all along? Had he been lying to her every time he said he cared?

  No, she couldn’t believe that. And perhaps he’d even meant it when he said he loved her. But what did he know of love when he couldn’t tell her the truth, when he could make an alliance with her enemy, then hide it?

  Like a creeping poison, Colin’s assurances to Walcester that he would tell the man everything after speaking to her seeped into her mind. Devil take him and his promises! A sob choked her. He knew what she’d been through and seen what a blackguard her father was, yet he still intended to fulfill some obligation he felt to the man?

  The thought of Colin and her father together sent pain slicing through her. Had Colin given the earl daily reports about the drugged tea and her naivete and her pathetic tears when she’d asked him to stay in London? For heaven’s sake, how closely had Colin reported to that wretched creature who’d sired her?

  Dropping into a chair, she tried to blot out the memory of making love to Colin, but it was too recent, too precious to ignore. And she kept seeing Colin’s anguished expression when her father made his appearance.

  Her anger dug in its heels. She didn’t care if Colin had felt remorse over not telling her of their association; it still stung that she’d bared her soul to him and he hadn’t done the same.

  Had he intended to keep it a secret from her forever, to marry her and never tell her that he’d been spying for her father?

  Marry her. Her blood chilled. What if he hadn’t meant it? What if that had been another ploy?

  No, that made no sense. He’d already heard all her secrets and taken her to bed. He wouldn’t have offered marriage unless he actually wanted to marry her.

  Her hand balled into a fist in her lap. But how dared he offer marriage to her while carrying on such a deceit? And how dare her father use her and Colin to further his own hidden aims? He deserved the vengeance she wished to visit upon him. What a spiteful, horrible man!

  Except that her vengeance wasn’t turning out as planned. He might find her reputation a torment, but it no doubt made him all the more pleased that he’d abandoned the woman who’d borne him such an outrageous daughter. She’d wanted to make him feel remorse, but he clearly didn’t know the meaning of the word. So her dreams of retribution were just that—silly dreams. Lord Walcester wasn’t the kind of man to beg forgiveness or dissolve into bitter, regretful tears. All he’d cared about was her knowledge of his nickname.

  She sat up straight. Had Colin told the truth when he’d hinted that her father might be a traitor? Surely he wouldn’t have said such a thing about his own friend unless it was true.

  So her father had to have been a spy for the wrong side. And he’d dragged her poor mother into it, too!

  She thought through the poem. If “the bard” referred to Shakespeare, then perhaps “Portia” and “Beatrice” referred to two of the three men Colin had said were arrested. Perhaps men her father had betrayed.

  A chill struck her. No wonder the earl had cautioned her against using his alias.

  Had Colin known all along? She didn’t think so. He seemed to have found out most of his information in Norwood.

  The door to the tiring-room opened, startling her. But it was only Charity.

  “I thought I might find you here. Y’ve got everyone worried, you have. His lordship is beside himself wanting to find you.”

  “Where’s Colin now?” Annabelle asked. “He didn’t come with you, did he?”

  “Nay, since you weren’t at our lodgings he went to Aphra’s to see if you might have gone there. And he sent me to the theater.”

  Sir John stepped into the room behind Charity, and Annabelle groaned. So much for staying hidden. “What’s he doing here?”

  “I didn’t think Charity should be roaming the streets in the middle of the night alone,” he snapped. “Nor should you, for that matter.”

  Right now Annabelle had little patience for Sir John. “Doesn’t your fiancée keep you too busy to be concerned about your mistress, sir?”

  Sir John flushed but pulled Charity close. “Aye, my fiancée is keeping me quite busy.”

  Charity gave a shy smile. “John’s asked me to marry him, he has. He’s going to withdraw his offe
r for the viscount’s daughter in the morning.”

  Annabelle arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

  Sir John’s face hardened. “Listen here, I won’t let you or Mrs. Behn poison Charity any longer with your hardhearted views about men. I’ll admit I neglected her feelings in the past, but that’s all changed. Charity has helped me realize that our love is more important than any social position.”

  The sweet smile he cast Charity tore at Annabelle’s already wounded heart.

  “My father was a merchant,” he continued, “and my mother a chambermaid when they fell in love and married. So you see, I have a rather humble lineage myself. I gained a knighthood only because of service to the king. For a time, I forgot that my parents had been happier in their love than any of the nobility I know with all their titles and wealth. I nearly threw away my only chance for happiness.”

  “I set you straight, didn’t I, love?” Charity whispered.

  Sir John nodded. “When it came right down to it, I couldn’t stomach the thought of losing you.”

  To see them billing and cooing was nearly more than Annabelle could bear, but Charity deserved this second opportunity for love.

  “At any rate,” Sir John said, turning back to Annabelle with a softer expression on his face, “I hope you’ll wish us happiness.”

  “I do.” She meant it, despite her pain at seeing them together. She managed a smile. “I truly do.”

  “Now y’ve got to go after Lord Hampden,” Charity said fervently. “ ’Tis time for you to find yer own happiness.”

  Annabelle’s smile faded. “I’m afraid you’ll have to let me handle Lord Hampden in my own way.”

  “But—” Charity began.

  “Nay, love, she’s right,” Sir John put in. “You must let them work out their own problems.”

  Annabelle yearned to tell Charity of all that had happened, but Charity’s loyalties were with Sir John now, and Sir John would report to Colin whatever she said. Dear heaven, she was surrounded by spies. No doubt Sir John had known all along what Colin was doing for Walcester.

  Or had he?

  “Sir John,” Annabelle blurted out. “Do you know the Earl of Walcester?”

  “Of course. He’s a powerful man.”

  Annabelle bit back a harsh retort. “Is he also a friend of Lord Hampden’s?”

  Charity was regarding her suspiciously, but Annabelle ignored her.

  Sir John shrugged. “You could say that. I don’t know that the earl makes many real friends, but Hampden does feel indebted to the man for saving his life once during the war. Walcester was also the one who got Hampden his position in the king’s service.”

  Her heart sank. No wonder Colin felt obligated to aid her father. Owing so much to the man, Colin would never help her bring the earl to justice. For all his secrets, Colin was an honorable man.

  But her father didn’t deserve such consideration.

  “Why do you ask?” Sir John said.

  “No reason.” She cast Charity a warning glance, hoping the maid would keep quiet with Sir John.

  Charity stiffened. “John, love, could you give me and Annabelle a moment alone?”

  He nodded, then left the room.

  “What the devil is going on?” Charity demanded.

  “The earl is indeed my father. And Colin has been spying on me for him.”

  The color drained from Charity’s face. “Are you sure?”

  Annabelle nodded. “I don’t think Colin intended for me to find out. He must have known how it would hurt me. But I know now and he’s upset. The thing is, I’ve also learned something else about my father. And I can’t keep silent about it. But Colin would want me to.”

  Planting her hands on her hips, Charity stared hard at Annabelle. “So what are you planning?”

  With a sigh, Annabelle asked, “Would you do one favor for me?”

  “Anything.”

  “Would you fetch my special box from our lodgings and bring it to me here? The key is in the binding of the book of poems on the bureau.”

  Charity regarded her quizzically. “Aye, but why?”

  “Please don’t ask. Do this for me, and I’ll be forever in your debt.”

  Shrugging, Charity turned toward the door. “Whatever you wish.”

  “And, Charity? Don’t tell Colin about it, and whatever you do, don’t tell him where I am.”

  Charity’s eyes narrowed on her. “What are you up to?”

  “You’ll know soon enough,” Annabelle said. “Now go.”

  To her relief, Charity nodded and left.

  The earl was a traitor and Colin could never do anything about it, not considering what he owed the man.

  She, however, didn’t owe her father a thing. But she still owed her mother. Clearly Lord Walcester had seduced Mother so he could use her for his own traitorous purposes, or else why had he fled? And why else was he so panicked over Annabelle’s uncovering his actions?

  Thanks to him and his machinations, Mother was dead. And though Annabelle had promised Colin to abandon her vengeance, that was before she’d learned that he couldn’t get justice himself for Walcester’s treachery because of the debt he owed the man.

  So it was up to her to make sure the earl received justice. Colin had warned her that her father was dangerous, but surely the only way to protect herself from a dangerous man was to make sure he paid for his crimes. Colin might not approve, but she couldn’t let him harbor a traitor, no matter what obligation he felt.

  That decision made, Annabelle began to search for a costume. She had to look her best tonight.

  For she was going to meet a king.

  AT MIDNIGHT, ANNABELLE stood in the small room off the Privy Stairs of Whitehall Palace, waiting for William Chiffinch to return from sending her message in to the king. She stared about her, clutching her box against her chest and wondering what His Majesty would think when he saw her here so late, dressed in the finery she’d borrowed from the theater.

  Not that it mattered. After she laid out her case, he’d be set straight, even if her note hadn’t already quelled all interest he might have in her body.

  A moment’s guilt assailed her. What she was about to do was unforgivable. Even if her father ever could find it in his heart to accept her, he’d not do so after this. Despite reminding herself that her father was almost certainly a traitor and she was doing this for her country and her king, she knew that was only half true. She was doing this to punish him—for abandoning Mother, for not caring about what happened as a result. And for making Colin spy on her.

  She choked down her tears. She wouldn’t think about Colin, not now. Opening her box, she looked for her father’s ring to remind herself of his treachery. Instead, she caught sight of Colin’s ring.

  Emotions flooded her—pain, resentment, longing . . . and yes, love. Despite everything, she loved him, so very much. And he’d undoubtedly be furious when he heard what she’d done.

  Yet she had to do this. As long as Lord Walcester feared her knowledge of his past, he’d hound her. The earl was a hard man, and the only message he would understand was a hard one.

  She tucked Colin’s ring into her apron pocket. The earl might deserve punishment, but Colin did not, so the king mustn’t learn the truth about their affair. She couldn’t bear to think of Colin being arrested simply because he’d fulfilled some ancient obligation to the treacherous Earl of Walcester.

  Chiffinch appeared in the doorway. “His Majesty says he will see you, madam, but he can only give you a few moments. He has guests.”

  Guests? Oh, of course. Rumor had it that the king rarely went to bed before dawn.

  Annabelle followed Chiffinch up the Privy Stairs and into the king’s chambers with growing trepidation. His Majesty was presiding over a small supper. She recognized an actress from the king’s company and Barbara Palmer, the king’s current mistress, who flashed her a glance of scathing contempt as she entered. The Duke of Buckingham, one of the king’s advisers and Barba
ra Palmer’s cousin, was there as well. Unfortunately, so was Lord Rochester.

  The king met her with a sober expression. He was much taller than she’d expected, and handsome, with thick brown hair that fell past his shoulders, a sensuous mouth, and heavy-lidded eyes. No wonder the women all wanted him.

  Still, he could not compare to Colin.

  He watched impatiently as she fell into a deep curtsy.

  Offering her his hand, he murmured, “Good evening, Mrs. Maynard. I do hope you’ve fully recovered from your illness.”

  She was so nervous she nearly forgot what he was talking about, but she caught herself in time. “Yes, Your Majesty. I’m feeling much better these days.”

  “That was a very interesting message you just sent me,” he said tightly. “I hope it wasn’t intended as a ruse to capture my attention.”

  “Nay, Your Majesty!” She glanced around the room, then swallowed. “But if it please you, I would prefer to discuss the matter in private.”

  The king regarded her oddly, then nodded and led her into an adjoining room. As he shut the door, he said, “You claim to have information regarding a traitor to the Crown. You do realize what a serious charge that is?”

  She sucked in her breath. “Aye. But I assure you that my suspicions aren’t based on hearsay or speculation.” She drew herself up. “Nor do I speak merely as an actress. I speak as the illegitimate daughter of the Earl of Walcester.”

  Now she had his full attention. “What in the devil are you talking about?”

  “I’m the earl’s by-blow, conceived shortly after the Battle of Naseby in a town called Norwood.”

  The king’s eyes narrowed. Obviously he knew about both Naseby and Norwood. Perhaps he even knew of her father’s presence there. “You have proof of your parentage?”

  “Aye.” She took out the signet ring and handed it to the king. “He gave this to my mother. It bears his coat of arms, as you can see.”

  The king’s eyes narrowed. He turned the ring over in his fingers with a frown.

  Then she handed him the poem written by the Silver Swan. “He also gave this to her.”