Best of Both Rogues

by Samantha Grace

  Jonathan’s head spun, and he leaned on the cane for support. If Margrave had been ordered to eliminate Miss Thorne, how long did Jonathan have before another spy was sent for her? A string of curses flew from him, rising on the night air. “I will kill the bloody blackguard.”

  “You could, but another fat rat would happily scurry into his position. Fulfill your duties. Miss Thorne will be in no danger once you are gone. Nevertheless, if it brings you peace of mind, I will help Ben keep watch over her.”

  Jonathan growled low in his throat. He hated that he couldn’t be the one to protect his betrothed—that he was the reason she was endangered.

  “If you care about her,” Margrave said, “take Ben’s money and ship and leave.”

  “It is not that simple.” And yet what choice did he have? There wasn’t time to convince Miss Thorne to cry off. Tomorrow he must tell her their relationship was over.

  * * *

  Eve hadn’t slept a wink all night. Instead, she had rehearsed in her mind what she would say to Jonathan when he called on her today. She had altered the wording slightly each time until she thought she had prepared a sensitive and respectful parting speech. The problem lay with her, not him, but she fervently hoped they could remain on friendly terms. She found him amiable and enjoyed his company.

  To show her sincerity, she had asked Cook to make Jonathan’s favorite finger sandwiches—tarragon chicken salad with dried cherries—and those lovely little vanilla tea cakes he ate as if he might not see his next meal. Bohea tea filled her mother’s precious Worcester teapot, and the best porcelain plates had been brought from the pantry. Eve had been as prepared as any lady could be to gently tell her betrothed she just couldn’t marry him.

  She never got the chance.

  “What do you mean, you cannot marry me?” Shrillness broke through her words, shattering the illusion she could remain reasonable and calm under these circumstances. This cannot be happening.

  She dug her fingers into the padded armrests to fight against dumping the sandwiches and cakes in his lap and crowning him with her mother’s best silver tray. “Do you have any idea what this will do to me?” It was a miracle her reputation had been salvaged after Ben jilted her. She would never recover from a similar incident.

  Jonathan sipped his tea, cool and collected, which only made her more crazed. “I think we both realize this is for the best. It is clear you still hold a tendre for Mr. Hillary. I am simply clearing the way for you to reunite.”

  She bolted from the settee and marched several paces away to place distance between them. “You cannot cry off and go around saying I hold a tendre for Mr. Hillary. I will be ruined. People will think we have engaged in an impropriety.”

  His smile was serene as he set his cup aside. The exquisite china piece clicked against the saucer. “Darling.” If his placating tone was meant to calm her, it had the opposite effect.

  She jutted her chin, her temper rising. “I am not your darling.”

  “You never were,” he shot back, a ruddy shadow covering his suddenly hardened face.

  Wonder of wonders. It seemed he was human after all. This was the first show of emotion he’d exhibited since their betrothal ball.

  The ball. Her heart dropped to her stomach. Had he seen her dancing with Ben that night? Her indignation gave way to horror that he might believe she had been untrue to him.

  “You cannot think I was unfaithful.” Her voice cracked on the last word and tears welled in her eyes.

  He sighed and pushed from the chair as if almost too weary to stand. “I could never believe anything unbecoming about you, Miss Thorne. You are a kind and decent young woman.” He came to stand in front of her and raised his hand as if he might touch her before letting it drop to his side. “I will not repeat a word to anyone about what has occurred between us today. We will tell everyone it was your decision to end our betrothal. You may say I am too absorbed with my work and bad tempered when my attention is needed elsewhere. I believe this is the best solution to our dilemma. We are clearly not meant to be.”

  He saw their relationship as a dilemma? She couldn’t say why, but it made her feel like crying. She didn’t strive to be anyone’s problem. She longed to be a helpmate, to stand beside her man in times of trouble.

  With a sigh, she realized he was right. They did have a dilemma that could only be solved by parting ways. Jonathan was honorable and kind. He was the type of gentleman to allow himself to be maligned to protect her pride. But he wasn’t her man. That didn’t make him deserving of attacks on his character, however.

  She frowned. “I will not spread tales about you.”

  “Then we will say nothing except it was your choice to cry off. The ton can make whatever assumptions about me they like.”

  While she appreciated his sacrifice, she could make no sense of it. “Why are you willing to fall on your sword for me?”

  “I only want to see you safe and happy.” His smile tugged at her heart. He appeared so sad and lonely in that moment. “Will you do that for me, Miss Thorne? Marry, have a family, and be happy?”

  It sounded as if he was saying good-bye forever. “Only if…if you promise you will do the same.”

  “I would like that very much.” He leaned to kiss her cheek one last time. “Take care of yourself, Eve.”

  She stood rooted to the middle of the drawing room floor as Jonathan walked away.

  Seventeen

  Ben was preparing to visit the docks when a soft knock sounded at his study door. He closed the logbook he’d just finished reviewing and placed it on a small stack of ships’ logs he had already audited. His man of business would see them returned to the proper captains.

  “Enter,” he called as he stood to don his jacket.

  His butler walked into the study bearing a small dish with a calling card.

  Ben held up his hand to halt his progress. “I haven’t time for callers. The Sidony docked this morning, and I am leaving to meet with her captain.”

  Dobbins didn’t allow Ben’s protest to alter his course. He came to stand at the edge of Ben’s desk and held out the dish anyway. “Sir Jonathan Hackberry claims it is a matter of dire importance, sir.”

  Ben’s heart lodged in his throat as possible calamities involving Eve raced through his mind. He rounded his desk and stalked for the door.

  “Sir?” Dobbins’s bemused voice barely penetrated his awareness.

  He jerked open the door. Hackberry stood in the foyer. The man’s mouth was set in a straight line and his knuckles were white where he clutched his hat to his chest.

  “Is Eve all right?” Ben was already moving toward the door.

  “She will be fine.”

  That wasn’t the reassurance Ben needed. He stormed past Hackberry on his way to the front door. “Where is she?”

  “At Thorne Place where I left her. Probably telling her brother what a loathsome cur I am.”

  Ben skidded to a stop. His relief was so sudden, his body didn’t know what to do with the adrenaline coursing through him, so fear transformed to anger. He turned on Hackberry, jabbing a finger in his direction. “In my study. Now.”

  Hackberry sighed as Ben crossed the foyer again. Dobbins met him at the threshold of his study and scurried out of the way.

  Ben was rarely in a temper, but when his anger made an appearance, it often left his servants hopping to please him. “Thank you, Dobbins. That will be all.” He attempted to soften his tone to let his servant know he had done nothing wrong, although the words came out clipped.

  Hackberry followed Ben into the study and closed the door with a firm click. “You will probably want to bloody my nose after I tell you what happened.” He nonchalantly plopped into the chair in front of Ben’s desk.

  Ben crossed his arms. “Maybe I should plant a facer now and be done with it. Should save us both time.”<
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  “But I may be unable to speak intelligibly afterward, and you did ask me to tell you what happened.”

  He made a valid argument for patience. “Go on.”

  Hackberry’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. “If you would cease yapping—”

  “If you would quit stalling, I wouldn’t be tempted—”

  “Miss Thorne and I are no longer betrothed.” Hackberry spoke over him, drowning out the last of his sentence.

  Ben sputtered to a stop; his jaw hung slack.

  Hackberry’s smile lacked humor. “You heard me correctly. You may court the lady at your leisure.”

  Out of all the possible scenarios racing through Ben’s mind, Eve calling off the wedding so soon hadn’t been one of them. Hackberry had claimed he was making little progress toward that end. Ben laughed, his mood suddenly buoyant. “This calls for a drink.”

  Hackberry’s grimace was understandable. Even though he had agreed to step aside, a man had his pride and being jilted was surely a blow to one’s confidence. Ben would pour his friend three fingers to help ease his pain. Ben, however, was ecstatic and moved to the sideboard with a swagger to his step.

  He returned with a single glass for Hackberry and lowered to the seat next to his. “Was it something you did last night at dinner? Did she cry off immediately, or did she deliver the news this morning?”

  Hackberry’s frown deepened. “Yes, well… I am afraid there was a change in plans. We agreed to tell everyone Miss Thorne chose to cry off, but in reality, I—”

  “You broke your betrothal?” Ben was going to punch him after all. He lunged from his seat, but Hackberry was quicker.

  Springing to his feet, Hackberry dodged under Ben’s arm and slammed his walking stick against the backs of Ben’s knees. Ben’s legs buckled and he landed on the carpet with a thunderous thud.

  Where the hell had Hackberry learned to move like that?

  “My apologies, Hillary. It was an unfair blow, but I don’t wish to fight you.” Hackberry extended his hand. Ben eyed the man warily, calculating the odds of jerking him off balance to gain an advantage. “I need you to listen carefully, Ben. I haven’t much time. We both want the same thing for Miss Thorne. She will be happy with you, and you can protect her.”

  “Protect her from what?” Against his better judgment, he accepted Hackberry’s offer for a hand up.

  “It isn’t a what. It is a who. All I am at liberty to say is she is in danger as long as I remain in England. I need a ship tonight, the one you promised, and I need you to watch over Miss Thorne. Keep her safe.”

  Ben shook his head. Hackberry truly was a crackpot. “Who would want to hurt Eve, and why? She hasn’t an enemy in the world.”

  “No one wants to hurt her, but there are men who will do it all the same. This is about controlling me, and Eve is only a pawn.”

  “A pawn?” Ben’s heart skipped. Eve claimed someone had followed them to the museum. And then there was the incident between Hackberry and the soldiers. She’d witnessed another side to Hackberry, the one that had just thwarted Ben’s attack with ease. Hackberry wasn’t a clumsy, socially awkward anthropologist. He was a master of disguise. Perhaps an enemy to the Crown.

  Ben’s muscles tensed, and he eased closer to his desk. “You are not what you seem.” He kept a firearm in the top drawer, but he would have to dive across the surface if there was any hope of reaching it.

  Hackberry clamped a hand on Ben’s shoulder, interrupting his plan. He leaned toward Ben, meeting his gaze. “I am your friend, and I care for Miss Thorne. That is the only truth that matters, the only real thing about me. Please, believe me.”

  Ben held Hackberry’s gaze for several moments. The man’s eyes were bloody earnest for a fraud and a liar.

  Hackberry’s eyebrows lifted in question as he awaited Ben’s judgment.

  “Bugger!” Ben might be a fool, but he believed him. Still, he couldn’t lower his guard until he knew where Hackberry’s loyalties lay. “Are you friend or foe to the Crown?”

  A small twitch of Hackberry’s mouth showed his amusement. “I couldn’t very well keep Miss Thorne safe if I were set on destroying our motherland, now could I?”

  “No, I suppose you couldn’t.” Ben pulled free from Hackberry’s grasp. His mind was already preoccupied with where he could take Eve to ensure her safety. “I need to know who wishes her harm.”

  “It is best for you to remain in the dark. Miss Thorne will be in no danger once I leave England.”

  That wasn’t good enough. He advanced on Hackberry until they were toe to toe. Now that he knew what the other man was capable of, he wouldn’t catch Ben off guard. “I am not willing to gamble with her life.”

  “I know these men.” Hackberry’s eyes hardened. “They will lose interest in Miss Thorne once I am back in line, which I intend to be very quickly. I also have the promise of a trustworthy colleague that he will watch over you both until any danger has passed. If you can assist me, I will leave tonight. My belongings are packed, and I could have them delivered to the docks within the hour.”

  Ben nodded sharply. He wasn’t inclined to leave Eve’s safety in the hands of an unknown entity whether Hackberry trusted the man or not, but he agreed with putting distance between Eve and her former betrothed. “I have three ships ready to sail. Once the crew has delivered the cargo, the captain and ship will be at your disposal.”

  “Thank you.” Hackberry clasped Ben’s hand and pumped it twice. “I promise, once I am gone, you and Miss Thorne need not worry about anything. Just forget we had this conversation. Forget that I even exist, and everything will be all right.”

  Ben had his doubts that everything would be all right. Even if the threat to Eve went away, they would still have to deal with the fallout from Hackberry calling off the wedding. If no one else learned the truth about who cried off, Eve still knew, and Ben couldn’t stomach the thought of her shedding another tear over him or Hackberry. Men were bastards.

  * * *

  In an attempt to pretend nothing out of the ordinary had occurred that day, Eve retreated to the gardens with a book. Her brother and sister-in-law had taken the news of her broken betrothal better than she had anticipated. Of course, they believed the story she and Jonathan had agreed to give everyone. Sebastian and Helena thought the decision had been hers.

  And it had been. Jonathan simply stole the moment from her. She gripped the spine of the book as heat washed over her. Being indignant didn’t change anything, but she couldn’t help revisiting those moments in the drawing room and feeling the rush of anger all over again.

  At least there would be no legal consequences for the dissolution of their contract, but if anyone learned the truth, she would be ruined. Her reputation would suffer enough because she had cried off—or would have if she had been allowed to broach the subject first—but everything would be a thousand times worse if anyone found out Jonathan had tossed her aside. She prayed he would keep his word and tell no one.

  A nagging sense that she was being watched made her glance up at the house. Sebastian was at his bedchamber window, but he moved away when she met his gaze. Her brother was worried, even though he’d tried to hide it earlier. A heaviness weighed on her chest. Opening her family up to gossip and speculation again could have unpleasant consequences for them all. Sebastian and Helena had taken great pains to protect Helena’s secret past, and any attention on the Thornes would naturally make Sebastian apprehensive.

  Milo appeared at the French doors that opened onto the gardens. The butler maintained his stiff posture as he walked the pebbled path toward her, and not for the first time, she wondered if the servant ever took a moment to relax.

  “Miss, you have a caller,” he said when he reached her. He held out the small dish and calling card, but she didn’t take the card. The identity of her caller was irrelevant.

  “Could you
please tell whomever that I am not receiving?”

  “Might I beg you to reconsider?” a voice carried on the air.

  Milo’s face screwed up before he recovered his composure and turned toward the intruder, allowing her a clear view of the footpath. Ben was strolling toward them holding a white box tied with silver ribbon. Her pulse sputtered at the sight of him.

  Milo drew himself up to his full height. “Mr. Hillary, I asked you to wait—”

  “It is all right, Milo. Thank you, you may go.” She rose to greet Ben, hugging her book against her chest like a shield. What was he doing here? Surely, word hadn’t begun to travel social circles already.

  “Shall I send a footman to stand attendance, miss?”

  Eve opened her mouth to accept, but Ben answered for her. “That will not be necessary. I would like a moment to speak alone with the lady. It is a private matter.”

  He flashed a smile at the butler and received a sour frown in return. Milo looked to Eve for direction.

  She would have to trust Ben in this instance. If he didn’t think they needed an audience for what he had come to say, she was certain she didn’t want anyone overhearing them. “There is no need to trouble a footman. Mr. Hillary won’t be staying long.”

  Milo’s forehead creased with doubt, but he left them alone in the garden.

  Ben took her by the elbow, guided her back to the wooden bench, and then sat beside her. With a too cheerful smile, he offered her the white box on his palms as if serving her a tray. “I brought you lemon drops. Are they still your favorite?”

  She placed her folded hands on the book in her lap as her stomach churned with uncertainty. It was improper for him to come bearing gifts to another man’s betrothed, which likely meant he knew she had been jilted again. “W-What are you doing here?”

  His smile fell and he lowered the box to the bench beside him with a pitying shake of his head. “Sir Jonathan came to see me. How are you, Evie?”

  “Dear God. He told you what really happened.” Her shoulders slumped from the weight of his revelation. “He promised to keep it a secret.”