Amara (Carlton House Cartel Book 2)

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘I assume he is unaware of the new agreement that has been reached with Estevan, which probably accounts in part for the secrecy. I wondered why Kazan allowed his daughter to travel without having entered into the engagement first. The reason given didn’t ring true. She’s a beautiful woman and if she met a rich gentleman in this country who swept her off her feet…’ Lord Robert paused to fix Louis with a probing look. ‘Well, let’s just say that she might have forgotten her familial duty and married a despised Englishman instead. In actual fact, the engagement didn’t go ahead because Kazan still depends upon Drakos and doesn’t want to deal with his anger when he discovers he’s been manipulated.’

  ‘Very likely,’ Sabine agreed. ‘The same thought had occurred to me. Drakos is probably the keeper of Kazan’s most sensitive secrets and he will have to find a way to secure his loyalty when he becomes an angry and disappointed suitor.’

  ‘Precisely. Secrecy has been vital. Kazan understands his daughter’s disinclination for the match, so there wasn’t the least possibility of her speaking about it.’ Lord Robert grinned. ‘Were he to find out then it would well and truly set the cat amongst the proverbial pigeons. The information you extracted from Mrs Costas might well prove pivotal, Mrs Kendal.’

  Sabine smiled. ‘Thank you. I do my humble best.’

  ‘You have a devious mind,’ Chance added, sending her a mischievous smile imbued with a wealth of promise. Sabine knew that she had been put on notice and would be more than willing to meet Chance—whatever he had in mind for them in the privacy of their bedchamber—halfway.

  ‘If they are sufficiently incensed to physically attack one another in the middle of George’s court then their mission will lose all credibility,’ Louis said. ‘And no blame will attach to the prince for their uncouth behaviour. But how do we set them at one another’s throats?’

  ‘I am sure you have a suggestion, Sabine,’ Chance said with a long-suffering sigh, ‘but whether I will want to hear it remains less certain.’

  ‘The deputation will arrive the day before the banquet that the prince plans to hold in their honour, one assumes,’ Sabine said, ‘and they will be accommodated in style at the pavilion once they do arrive.’

  All three men nodded.

  ‘That is the usual routine with visiting dignitaries,’ Lord Robert confirmed.

  ‘And the prince will not appear at table with them that first night.’

  ‘No,’ Chance said. ‘He will receive them in private shortly after their arrival but prefers to make a grand entrance and will meet them officially for the first time at the banquet. We managed to persuade him to behave in that manner some years back when he was attempting to broker peace between squabbling foreign factions. We all knew he was likely to make matters worse if exposed to them for too long in private.’

  ‘Well then,’ Sabine said with an all too innocent smile, ‘perhaps it is beyond time that I became less reclusive and accepted your standing invitation to join you at George’s court for more than just official occasions.’

  Chance narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Why?’ he asked in a mordant tone.

  ‘Because both men will know of Amara’s presence here in Brighton, and will discover easily enough that she is residing with me. Neither of them, I suspect, will be happy about it. Estevan looks upon her as his. He will have heard about George’s womanising, will worry for Amara’s reputation and be determined to remove her to safety. Drakos, on the other hand, will see an opportunity to raise his profile in her father’s eye by being the one to rescue her. Either way, the fragile truce between the rival factions will be destroyed if the two men allow their antipathy and jealousy to manifest itself in the form of physical violence in the prince’s court. It will not be the first time that two impassioned men have traded blows over a lady’s favours, should Drakos accidentally learn of Estevan’s claim. The deputation itself will then lose any political credibility and the prince will come out of it as the hero of the hour.’

  ‘Your suggestion holds merit,’ Louis said, smiling after the gentlemen exchanged a glance and took a moment to consider the matter, ‘but we cannot allow Miss Kazan to become embroiled in the dispute. It would be far too dangerous for her.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of suggesting that she should be. She will remain here, well-guarded and beyond their reach.’

  ‘So how would you suggest we entice the men to attack one another?’ Chance asked, a suspicious scowl knotting his brow. Sabine suppressed the desire to reach up and smooth out the creases.

  ‘Nothing could be simpler.’ She beamed at Chance, aware that he would hate her idea. ‘You and I will have a very loud dispute after dinner and I will tell you in no uncertain terms that I shall be returning home alone.’

  ‘Out of the question!’

  Sabine blinked up at Chance, pretending surprise at a reaction she had anticipated. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I said no, Sabine. It is far too dangerous.’

  Lord Robert and Louis exchanged an amused look, pleased no doubt to see their debonair friend finally meeting his match in a woman.

  ‘That attitude is one of the reasons I declined your proposal of marriage, Jonas Dayton. Had I not done so you might have some justification in telling me what I can and cannot do, even though you wouldn’t have stood much chance of succeeding. As things stand, I am still independent and make my own decisions.’

  ‘But for the fact that you cannot come to court unless I invite you,’ Chance replied.

  ‘Oh, Chance, think with your customary lucidity and put your personal feelings aside. I anticipate that both Drakos and Estevan will approach me independently and ask for news of Amara if you are not clinging to my side. That is all the opportunity I will need to stir up trouble between them. Estevan will say that he and Amara have an understanding but I will tell him that Drakos has already made that claim, then stand back and watch them explode.’ She grinned up at Chance. ‘You must admit that it’s a clever plan—unless,’ she conceded with a playful pause, ‘any of you gentlemen have thought of a better one.’

  ‘It has its merits,’ Lord Robert said, earning a scowl from Chance. ‘Mrs Kendal will never be in any danger. The Greek men will want access to Amara and have every reason to court her good opinion rather than to threaten her.’

  ‘And one can presumably depend upon their Mediterranean temperaments and underlying dislike of one another to ensure we get the result we require,’ Louis added, sending Chance an apologetic look.

  ‘If it was anyone other than me offering to orchestrate the ruse, Chance, you wouldn’t hesitate to go along with it.’

  ‘It’s ridiculous,’ Chance groused. ‘But much as I hate to admit it, it is also highly plausible. Especially if news of the altercation reaches the ears of the pamphleteers, who will depict the Greeks as violent and uncouth and credit the prince for exposing their true characters.’

  ‘I think I can safety predict that the hacks will get plenty of ammunition,’ Lord Robert said amiably.

  ‘Well, there we are then,’ Sabine said, smiling in a satisfied manner.

  ‘It will drive a wedge between Kazan’s and Estevan’s organisations and prevent them from joining forces. Greeks are well known for their fierce pride, long memories and ability to bear grudges,’ Louis said. ‘Any conflict will weaken their respective positions and make their long-term plans for an enlarged Greek state less viable. The dispute will also strengthen the British claim to those damned marbles. What it will not do is help Miss Kazan to escape her father’s tyranny. She won’t be required to marry Estevan, but Drakos’s claim will be reinforced.’

  ‘Not if he has disadvantaged the Greek cause abroad by brawling,’ Chance said with an assured nod.

  ‘Even so, her father will force her to go home,’ Louis pointed out sullenly.

  Sabine smiled at the conflicted man, her heart heavy for him. She wanted to tell him it might not be that way but knew that it very likely would be, and that it would be unkind to giv
e him false hope.

  ‘We cannot go through with this plan unless Amara agrees to it,’ Sabine pointed out. ‘It is her future and therefore her decision to make. I believe, however, that she has developed a taste for rebellion and will be happy to play along. Anyway, if we are in accord gentlemen, then I will speak with her about it in the morning.’

  Lord Robert and Mr Harland confirmed that would be the best course of action. Chance’s approval was grudgingly given.

  Sabine rose when her guests spoke of taking their leave. ‘Do come again early tomorrow afternoon, gentlemen,’ she said when they bowed over her hand and thanked her for her hospitality. ‘By then I shall know how Amara feels about the suggestion and will hopefully have convinced Chance that I am not in any danger myself.’

  ‘I have every faith in your powers of persuasion, Mrs Kendal,’ Lord Robert said, chuckling.

  ‘Right, you,’ Chance said, surprising Sabine by sweeping her off her feet, throwing her headfirst over his shoulder and carrying her, half-laughing and half-protesting, up the stairs the moment the front door closed behind their guests. ‘I have methods of dealing with disobedient females.’

  ‘Stop it, Chance!’ She beat her fists against his back to no discernible effect. ‘You are making me dizzy. Whatever will the servants think?’

  ‘Hang the servants. You will be better advised to worry about what I think of your rash behaviour.’ He tossed her onto her bed in a flurry of petticoats and breathless laughter. ‘Leave us please, Agnes,’ he added, glancing at Sabine’s maid, who merely raised a brow at the unorthodox display of brute force instead of defending Sabine’s honour by attacking him with the hairbrush. ‘Your mistress has again demonstrated her propensity for monstrous disobedience, and doesn’t deserve to be waited upon. I shall play the part of lady’s maid this evening.’

  ‘Don’t you dare leave me with this brute, Agnes!’

  ‘Night, lamb,’ Agnes replied, chuckling as she made her way to the door.

  ‘Well, of all the ungrateful, disloyal…It seems even my longest standing servants have fallen victim to your questionable charms, Jonas Dayton, but it doesn’t mean that I have to follow their example.’

  ‘Is that right?’

  He cocked a brow in sensual challenge as he threw off his coat. He followed it up with a predatory smile that lit a spark in her bloodstream as he tore off his neckcloth, depriving her of the ability to think rationally when his waistcoat was quickly discarded also and she could see the outline of powerful muscles flexing and contracting beneath the thin linen of his shirt.

  The mattress dipped as he knelt on the edge of it, pausing to look down at her, his smouldering gaze making her mouth go dry and causing her pulse rate to trip over her racing heart. She longed to feel the touch of his capable hands caressing every inch of her bare flesh but knew he would withhold that pleasure as a form of torture. Chance, she was obliged to concede, selected his punishments with sadistic precision.

  ‘What am I to do with you?’ he asked in a seductive drawl.

  ‘I imagine…’ Sabine paused to clear her throat, wondering why her voice sounded so thick, so needy. Knowing very well why and wishing she was better at hiding her passion from the rogue who owned her heart. ‘Ladies are supposed to retain a modicum of mystique, are they not? I dare say you will think of something.’

  Sabine decided to take control of the situation, so sat up and started pulling pins at random from her hair. Ascending the stairs thrown over his shoulder had caused half of them to fall out anyway and done the work for her.

  ‘I said I would do that,’ he reminded her.

  And he proceeded to do so, so efficiently as to hint at past experience. Momentary jealousy gripped her as she tried to visualise the faces of her unknown rivals for Chance’s affections. She quelled her anxiety, confident that Chance was hers, and hers alone. She gloried in the feel of his fingers gently digging into her scalp and failed to suppress a groan as she closed her eyes, aroused and expectant. He freed her long tresses and energetically brushed them through, getting rid of the tangles, making her wait.

  Then he undressed her, so slowly that she thought she would lose her mind, eschewing all efforts of help on her part.

  ‘This is your punishment,’ he told her in a seductive tone.

  And as tortures went, Sabine decided a considerable amount of time later, when she lay in Chance’s arms, satiated and exquisitely happy, it had a lot to recommend it.

  ‘If that is your idea of a punishment,’ she told him, resting the side of her face on his broad shoulder, ‘then I might be tempted to rebel a little more frequently.’

  ‘I would strongly advise against it,’ he replied, kissing her temple. ‘You should know by now that there is little I would not do to ensure your safety. It has taken me a long time to find you, and I don’t have the least intention of letting you escape me.’

  ‘Even so, we have to help Amara and your prince.’

  ‘Yes, I agree with you there and I suppose your plan is relatively harmless. Even so, I wish you had spoken to me about it first.’

  ‘I would have if the situation had allowed for it.’

  ‘But you also depended upon Robert and Louis supporting your suggestion,’ he replied, scowling up at the bed’s canopy. ‘Don’t think I am fooled by your machinations.’

  ‘Poor Louis. He’s halfway to falling in love with Amara, you know, and she with him.’

  ‘And that is their business,’ he replied, tweaking her nose, ‘not ours. Now go to sleep, irresponsible woman, and we will discuss your plan with Miss Kazan together in the morning. I don’t trust you to highlight all the reasons why it should not go ahead.’

  Sabine shook her head against his chest and had the good sense to let him have the last word. At least for now. Masculine pride, she had good reason to know, was a fragile beast at the best of times, and required constant nurturing.

  As did she.

  Chapter Twelve

  Claus glanced at his ruined breeches and the torn sleeve of his best coat and exhausted his litany of swear words. He dabbed at his cut hands and shredded gloves and his language deteriorated further. Would nothing go right for him in this godforsaken country?

  Where the devil had Amara hidden herself away? Where was Cora and why wasn’t she keeping him informed? God alone knew he had paid her enough for that service. Not that any payment ought to have been necessary. They were both supposed to have Amara’s best interests at heart. They had known that her beauty and rare talent would attract the unscrupulous, keen to take advantage of her, and had vowed to protect her.

  Claus now rued the day when he had been tempted by visions of reflected glory and personal advancement into accepting the invitation for her to perform in this country. And more to the point, persuading her father that she wouldn’t come to any harm. The moment he heard where she was now, Claus would be a dead man.

  He’d heard news earlier about a Greek deputation arriving in England to argue for the return of those damned marbles. No one had cared about them for centuries; now they were the catalyst that would create a diplomatic scandal. Claus’s heart had stalled when the names of the participants of the deputation reached him, and he knew without any room for lingering doubts or last minute desperate attempts to persuade Amara to listen to reason that he had run out of options.

  His glittering career as an agent to be reckoned with was in tatters, and if he set foot back in his native Greece he would be dead within a week. He didn’t hold out much hope for his life expectancy if he went elsewhere. What could he do to support himself that didn’t involve the theatre? He didn’t know anything else and Kazan’s reach was long.

  How could it all have gone so damned wrong? A month ago he was on top of the world, in control and in demand. Now he was confined to a damp room in a noisy tavern, nursing a cut hand and a severely bruised pride.

  Someone knocked at his door and Claus’s heart rate doubled. Had they found him already? Common sense told hi
m otherwise, yet still he hesitated. The person knocked again, more insistently. Cora knew where he was lodging. The thought that it could be her, bringing him news of Amara’s current whereabouts, drove aside his caution and he wrenched the door open, ready to lay into her for letting him down.

  The words stalled on his lips when he was confronted not by an aging Greek woman but by the tavern’s boot boy.

  ‘What do you want?’ he asked abruptly.

  ‘This just came for yer.’ The boy shoved a note into Claus’s hand and looked at him expectantly. Claus muttered in Greek beneath his breath, flipped a penny in the air and the boy caught it one-handed, before clattering back off down the stairs without a word of thanks.

  Claus looked at the folded and sealed note, then scratched his head. ‘What the devil…?’

  No one other than Cora and Grigori knew where to find him. He doubted whether Grigori could write at all, let alone in English. Even if he could, this paper was of top quality, creamy and thick. Perhaps Cora had been prevented from coming in person but had managed to send word with some paltry excuse for her absence.

  Claus tore the note open, still taken aback by the quality of the paper. He was totally astounded when he saw the address of the prince’s pavilion embossed on the letterhead. Feeling wary yet curious, Claus quickly scanned the contents, more confused than ever once he had absorbed the words.

  His mystery correspondent asked if he wanted to know where Amara was. If he did, he should be at a particular tavern at seven that evening. His suspicions were aroused since the signature was illegible, perhaps deliberately so. It felt like a trap, and his first reaction was to steer well clear of it. Then he calmed down and tapped the note against his fingers as he attempted to rationalise this latest development. Kazan might have already got wind of Amara’s whereabouts, but he wouldn’t have had time to track Claus down and be ready to exact revenge, would he? Perhaps there were Englishmen who were as keen as Claus was to get Amara clear of the prince’s court. Beauty and success provoked jealousy from the most unexpected quarters.