All Men Are Rogues

by Sari Robins

  “I am going to ask Sullivan some questions. Please be prompt and truthful in your replies, or Miss Amherst might be donning one of those fancy patches pirates love to wear.”

  “I’ll see you in hell first,” Justin growled.

  Devane ignored him. “Sullivan, is Helderby dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “Diced and gutted.”

  “Do you know what he was after?”

  The silence was broken by the shriek of a scavenger bird.

  The blade quivered, and Evelyn’s heart contracted. “All right, then,” Devane continued. “We’ll get back to that later. Why are you attacking Barclay?”

  “Because he’s a traitorous blackguard and I’m going to gut him much more slowly than I did his accomplice.”

  “How do you believe he betrayed his country?”

  “Killed Phillip. Set me up—”

  Angel interjected, “Ambushed me and Evelyn! Father, you must stop this—”

  “What if I said you had your facts wrong?” Devane interrupted.

  “I’d tell you you’d lost your wits,” Sully snarled.

  The blade quivered. “Alright then. We’ll put the pesky little facts aside and cut right to the chase….”

  Evelyn inhaled a sharp breath at his words.

  “Miss Amherst, please inform Sullivan why he should not kill Barclay.”

  “Ah…” She swallowed, staring at that silver spiky tip. “He’s honorable?”

  “You’ll have to do better than that, my dear, your eye and your life are at stake.”

  Her heart hammered and she licked her lips. What games was Devane playing? “He’s on our side. He was duped by Wheaton into coming after us?”

  “Not bad, but you left out the part about how much you care for him. Now tell me, Sullivan, how do you think she would feel if you gutted her beloved?”

  “She’d get over it quickly enough,” Angel stated grimly.

  “Would you have preferred that someone had murdered Isabella?” Señor Arolas challenged.

  “It would have been a public service,” Angel replied stonily.

  “Who’s Isabella?” Justin growled.

  “A traitorous bitch who deserved to die,” Angel retorted. “Now put down that blade, Devane!”

  “Give us our answer, Señor Arolas. Is Barclay a traitorous man who deserves to die?”

  “Although it appears that Barclay is upstanding, I have yet to hear my son’s side of this matter,” Señor Arolas hedged.

  As Devane continued, the blade quaked, and Evelyn held her breath. “Then let’s assume he is not a traitor—”

  “Lies and supposition,” Sully charged. “You know me, Devane, and you should trust what I’m doing.”

  “I trusted Wheaton, see where that got us all.” The blade shifted a smidgen as the old gent stirred in his shoes. Evelyn suddenly feared the man might inadvertently impale her. He went on, “Barclay trusted him as well. He followed orders, not knowing that those orders were being given by a man who’d lost his mind, lost his will to live, and lost his sense of right from wrong.”

  Evelyn grit her teeth; she’d had enough of these games. “Sir, if you don’t intend to slice open my eye, I’d like you to remove that bloody blade. I’m tired of all this nonsense.”

  A flicker of air sliced through the breeze and her heart stopped as the blade moved. Her shoulders sagged as the sword dropped out of her line of sight.

  Justin let out a long breath and grabbed her arms.

  She looked up, surprised no one had moved. That’s when she noted the rows of Devane’s armed men surrounding them.

  Devane bowed. “You called my bluff. Well done, Miss Amherst. Let’s hope next time it will be over a card table instead of a mêlée.” He slipped the sword into his cane, locking the head with a loud click. “Now, I’ll venture you all have many questions, but I, for one, am famished and would prefer a more civilized venue to elucidate the facts of this dicey affair. Let’s be off then, shall we?”

  Chapter 34

  Hours later, after having sorted through the facts and cleared the air, Evelyn, Justin, Sully, Angel, Señor Arolas, and Sir Devane stood around Devane’s drawing room drinking brandy and smoking cigars, quietly celebrating the conclusion of the dastardly game. The mood was light yet somber. No one could forget the reason for the gathering, yet an aura of rejoicing hung in the air, too powerful for any lingering qualms.

  “I’m pleased with Miss Amherst’s decision to house the remarkable necklace of Kanibar in the British Museum. It will certainly be much appreciated, as well as safe there,” Devane said quietly to Justin, excitement shining from his sharp hazel eyes. “My real concern lies with ascertaining how much damage has been done to the branch and rebuilding it.”

  Justin nodded distractedly, his mind on the conversation occurring three steps away near the tall windows. Señor Arolas was talking about returning to Wellington’s camp, while his son Angel intended a trip home to Spain to visit his mother. Evelyn did not seem to be offering any insight into her future plans.

  Devane droned on as he puffed on his thin cigar, sending a cloud of pungent white smoke into the chamber. “I’m hoping to convince Sullivan to stay in London and help with the task.”

  The afternoon light played softly around Evelyn’s lovely hair, giving her a golden halo. Her eyes were sparkling as she looked fondly from Sully to Angel and back again, as if she could not get enough of the sight of them. At one point her sky blue gaze lit upon Justin, and she smiled warmly, as if to include him in her circle of those she cherished. Sully touched her arm and murmured something in her ear. Her melodious laugh tinkled throughout the room like a playful caress. Justin’s heart contracted; how much longer would he be able to have his dearest near?

  “Perhaps that Ismet fellow who just left would be interested in assisting as well.” Devane nodded sagely. “We cannot focus on Wheaton’s betrayal, but must think of the future, Barclay.”

  The future for Justin seemed bleak indeed without Evelyn in it. The light she beamed on his miserable existence would soon be brightening other shores. His heart began to pound and his palms became damp with sweat. Devane’s lips were moving, but Justin heard no sound beyond the crashing of waves roaring in his ears. His world had irrevocably changed the moment Evelyn had swept into his life, breathing fresh air into his stale existence. There was no turning back from the transformation her association had wrought in his soul, from the inexplicable revolution she’d led in his heart.

  The room rushed out of focus as the past and the future collided together into a picture of what his wan life had been and what the promise of a brighter future could be. But that promise would all turn to ash if he allowed it to, something he was not about to let happen. Resolution flooded through him, carrying with it the knowledge of the man he had become and what he needed to do. He opened his mouth and shouted, “I need more!”

  Conversation ceased, and all eyes turned to him.

  Gazing at him uncertainly, Evelyn stepped forward. “Ah, the bar is over there, Justin. I’m certain Sir Devane wouldn’t mind if you helped yourself.”

  He strode over to her and looked down into those sparkling blue eyes. “I’m not talking about the bloody brandy. I’m talking about us. Being your ally is not enough for me. Hell, even being your—” he paused, looking around the room—“friend is not enough. I thought I’d be content with simply having you near, but I want it all and I’m not going to settle for anything less. I love you, Evelyn Amherst, and I’m not going to let you go.” Lifting her angelic form into his arms, he heaved her over his shoulder and bounded toward the door.

  Sully stepped in front of him, blocking his escape, and growled, “Where the hell do you think you’re going, Barclay?”

  “To the church on the corner, and neither you nor anyone else is going to stop me.”

  “I’ll get the door for you,” Señor Arolas encouraged, yanking it open.

  “Don’t I
have a say in the matter?” Evelyn screeched as Justin strode out the door, Sully and Angel dogging at his heels.

  “No.” Justin adjusted her on his shoulder and headed down the carpeted hallway toward the front entrance.

  “But she’ll have to say I do,” Angel commented, trying to hide his smile.

  “She will.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Sully asked, following so closely in the tight hallway that Justin’s hand brushed against his rough coat. Thankfully the man did not stop him; Justin would’ve hated to knock him on his ass.

  “I believe she loves him,” Devane commented from behind.

  Justin stopped and turned, making Sully duck to avoid having Evelyn’s feet crash into his head. “By the way, Sir Devane, I quit.”

  “But we need you, Barclay! We must rebuild after the damage Wheaton’s done! The future depends on it!”

  “Sorry, sir, but you’ll just have to find a way to get along without me. I’m going to have my hands full raising our twelve children.” He whipped back toward the front door.

  “Twelve! Are you mad?” Evelyn shrieked.

  Señor Arolas shouted from the rear, “I still have the Barclay diamonds, by the way.”

  “Good,” Justin replied over his shoulder. “Evelyn will be needing them.”

  Evelyn tried to straighten, the blood rushing to her head, which must’ve been why her cheeks were so warm. “This is not the Dark Ages, Justin! You cannot kidnap a woman and make her your bride.” Her heart was pounding, and the fear she tasted on her tongue was interlaced with the delicate spice of…joy.

  “Of course I can,” he countered. “I’m a rogue and a scoundrel, and I have a license in my pocket.”

  Her heart skipped a beat, and she thought she might expire from the elation thrilling her senses. To be Justin’s wife, truly one with him in heart and spirit, was a fantasy for which she had dared not hope. It was too unreal, too delicate a chance to dream.

  His grip tightened as he ambled down the front steps, jostling her against his shoulder. He murmured, “Don’t worry, darling, I won’t drop you.”

  And she realized she believed him. She trusted him. She trusted him with her person and her heart. She relaxed in his grip, letting him take the lead. It was not nearly as difficult as she thought it would be. Still, recalling her own parents’ problems, she insisted, “But marriage can be trying. It has its own set of challenges.”

  “As if we’ve never faced conflict,” he replied sardonically.

  “I heard in parts of Italy it’s customary for the towns-folk to place obstacles in the path of the bride and groom on the way to the chapel to see how they’ll deal with difficulties,” Angel supplied.

  “Don’t even think about it, Angel,” Justin charged.

  Loping along beside them, he shrugged. “Well, given I cannot participate that way, and since I’m Evelyn’s closest friend and I can’t be the maid of honor, I’ll be the best man.”

  Trailing at Justin’s heels, Sully grabbed her hand. “And I’ll give you away.”

  Bemused, she chided teasingly, “As if you ever thought there was a man good enough for me!”

  “Barclay seems besotted, and if he dares step out of line, he’ll answer to me,” Sully replied as they marched down the pavement, as bedraggled a bridal party as ever there’d been. “Besides, I’ve always wanted a herd of grandchildren.”

  “Is this a conspiracy?” Evelyn asked, the smile she was trying unsuccessfully to stifle lifting the corners of her lips.

  “It seems, child, that they all love you too much to allow you to make a mistake,” Devane commented dryly from behind.

  “Put me down, Justin,” she stated softly.

  “No. I’m not taking any chances.”

  Her heart warmed with love for this brave man who had risked his life for those she cherished, faced his inner demons and trounced them, and taken her imperfect person into his devoted heart.

  “But you are taking a chance, Justin, on me.”

  “No, I’m not. So long as we have no more spies, no more conspiracies, except for the one seeing us wed, no more bloody games. Oh, and you must promise to live as long as a hearty English oak. I don’t want to spend a moment on this earth without you.”

  She was thankful he held her tightly, because she was so happy she thought she might fly from his arms.

  The church bells rang and Evelyn’s heart flipped over, so near were they to their destination. Did she dare assume the challenge, where her parents had failed so miserably? Happiness, fear, worry, joy all blended together in her belly in a combustion of sensations that felt like a cloud of butterflies fluttering wildly against her ribs.

  Justin’s grip tightened, and she bumped and jiggled on his shoulder as he ascended the stone steps. A door creaked open, and everything was suddenly shrouded in shadow. The scents of old stone and wax permeated the air of the tiny chapel.

  As he carried her forward, the most glorious prism of colors washing the stone floor of the church came into view. Evelyn arched her back and looked up. The breath caught in her throat. The window was a mosaic of color depicting Daniel in the lion’s den. She ventured she knew how he must have felt. Her heart began to pound, and her mouth had turned desert dry.

  “What can I do for you?” a scratchy voice called.

  Sir Devane stepped forward. “A wedding if you please, Vicar Kranz. We have a special license, and all is in order.”

  “Ah, if you say so, Sir Devane, but I do not have you on the calendar.”

  “I’m sure your coffers would appreciate your flexibility on this auspicious occasion.”

  “You’ve always been most generous, sir. But ah, pardon my query, is the bride, ah, ready for her wedding?”

  Strong arms encircled Evelyn’s waist and gently lowered her to the cold stone floor, steadying her on her feet. Warm hands cupped her shoulders, and she looked up into those exquisite green-gray eyes.

  “Do you love me enough to marry me, Evelyn?” he asked gruffly, his gaze searching hers.

  She studied that dear, beautiful face, and the vulnerability she saw there tore at her heart. Her lips split into a blissful grin as joy rippled from her toes to the tips of her fingers; she’d never been more certain of anything in her life.

  “I do,” she whispered, then stated more firmly, “I most assuredly do.”

  Epilogue

  Sitting down on the sturdy tree limb, Evelyn adjusted her skirts and placed her parasol against her leg, just as she’d been taught so many years before. Sighing in relief for the shade, she could not help but smile as she watched her dear husband trying to teach their four-year-old son and two-year-old daughter how to fly a kite. Well, little Phillip was trying to learn, while Dina raced about the meadow chasing butterflies.

  “Collect the twine, Phillip,” Justin advised as the kite plummeted into the grasses. “I’m going to visit your mother.”

  Justin dropped down beside her and pulled her into his arms, planting a warm kiss on her brow. “The boy is good with his hands.”

  “Just like his father,” she teased, laying her head on his shoulder. Inhaling his familiar woodsy scent, she relished the affection of his strong embrace. She sighed with contentment.

  He grazed his hand over her round middle. “How are you feeling?”

  “About as big as this old oak.” Shaking her head, she remarked, “I’ll tell you one thing, Justin Barclay, I’m not about to go through this nine more times. Besides, you don’t want to be an old codger when your daughters are coming out.”

  “Heavens, I hadn’t thought of that. I certainly hope Sully is retired from the Branch by then.”

  She tilted her head to see his handsome features. “Why?”

  “He’s a crack shot, and I’ll need all the help I can get keeping the rogues and scoundrels away from my innocent angels.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to teach our daughters how to deal with them.”

  He beamed wickedly. “Oh yes, you al
ways knew how to charm a rogue into behaving.”

  Drawing his head down so that his velvety lips met hers, she murmured, “Haven’t you figured out by now, Justin? I like it when you misbehave.”

  Author’s Note

  While doing research for this book, I came across the interesting historical fact that at a point in Napoleon’s distinguished military career he was briefly imprisoned under suspicion of treason (August 9–20, 1794). Though promptly released, he fell out of favor with the then-ruling French regime. (His name was removed from the list of active army officers on September 15, 1795, and he did not return to government favor until he assisted in quashing an uprising of French moderates and royalists on October 5, 1795.)

  This fact set my mind spinning. I wondered if someone who had met this twenty-six-year-old, down-on-his-heels French officer would ever have ventured that he’d soon seize power in France, later crown himself emperor, and then attempt to dominate Europe? What if that same someone had exposed a cherished secret to the young man, never guessing that Napoleon might soon become his greatest enemy? These musings led me to the idea for Evelyn Amherst’s legacy from her father, and my story began to take shape. The wonder of fiction for me is all the more interesting if interlaced with fact. I hope you enjoyed my wild imaginings in bringing Evelyn’s and Justin’s story to life.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I owe a debt of thanks to Nanci, the best sister and critique partner a person could ever have.

  Special thanks to my husband for giving me the opportunity to follow my passions and meet my deadlines.

  My gratitude to Lyssa Keusch and the exemplary Avon Books/HarperCollins team.

  Heartfelt thanks to my family and friends (especially Dorothy), who continue to enthusiastically support my efforts.

  About the Author

  SARI ROBINS was born and raised in New York, married a Southern gentleman, and lives with her family in Georgia. Having spent years working as a tax attorney, she realized that deep inside her beat the heart of an author. In 2000 she left her law practice to be a full-time mother and writer. Now, while using her legal skills to navigate the business of publishing, she gets to be more creative than she ever could have been with a legal brief. Her Scandalous Intentions, Sari’s debut novel, was released in December 2002, and she views it as the beginning of many stories she has yet to tell. Brimming with new ideas, Sari only wishes she could type as fast as she can conjure up tortured heroes. She is currently working on a new historical series for Avon Books set in Regency England.