The Price of Temptation

by Lecia Cornwall

  “She won’t leave the ship, and no one will know she’s even left the house. The servants will pretend Evelyn is at home. She gets very few callers, and Starling can turn her sisters away.”

  “The dreadful trio? Even Northcott could not deflect those ladies.”

  Sinjon grinned. “If Lucy calls, Starling will hint that Evelyn is upstairs with a lover. If Charlotte arrives, he will inform her that Evelyn is at the Foundling Hospital. Charlotte would never set foot there. If Eloisa shows up, she’ll learn that Evelyn is here, taking tea with Marianne.”

  “And if Eloisa comes here?” Adam was fascinated.

  “Perhaps Northcott would be kind enough to inform her that Evelyn has just left.”

  The man was a natural spy. Adam’s toes curled in his boots.

  “Even if there was an intimate connection between yourself and Evelyn Renshaw,” he said, “you did not part on the best of terms. How do anticipate getting her to accompany you to France?”

  Sinjon smiled. “I’m going to kidnap her.”

  “Don’t you have enough sins accredited to you already?”

  “One more for a good cause. I’d be the villain, and Evelyn would be entirely innocent.”

  There was a knock on the door. “Lady Evelyn Renshaw is here to see Captain Rutherford, my lord,” Northcott announced.

  Adam looked at Sinjon in surprise. “You receive more callers in my home than I do. Should I expect that the lady has arrived with a case packed, ready to travel?”

  Sinjon got to his feet. “She won’t need more than a cloak in case the sea wind is cold. I am assuming she’ll spend most of the voyage belowdecks, furious.”

  “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” Adam asked. “At least the Edmond’s cook is excellent. Perhaps that will placate her somewhat.”

  “Just one more thing, my lord. May I ask that you return my sword?”

  “I’ll send it to the ship.” He met Sinjon’s eyes. “You are planning to return to England, aren’t you, Captain?”

  Sinjon’s expression was unreadable as he took his leave without answering the question. Adam watched him go. The man wore his honor like armor. He was a man of honor himself, and he knew Rutherford would do what was right first, and what was necessary second.

  He’d have to trust the captain for now. There was no other choice.

  But if worst came to worst, he’d have his men drag Rutherford back to England to hang.

  Chapter 45

  Evelyn paced Marianne’s salon, waiting for Sam—no, not Sam—Sinjon Rutherford, traitor, rapist, and liar.

  His message, relayed by Starling, was cryptic. If she wanted the money from the sale of the book, she would have to come and get it.

  The money was the only reason why she wanted to see him. He’d give her the sum, and she would leave, never to set eyes on him again.

  She turned as the door opened, the sharp rebuke ready on her tongue, but it melted like sugar at the sight of him. He was dressed as a gentleman, without wig or livery. Polished Hessians and buff breeches made his legs long and sinfully lean.

  She remembered them naked, wrapped around her body.

  His shoulders were broad under his tailored blue coat, shoulders she’d clung to as he—

  She gritted her teeth, turning lust into anger. She strode toward him with quick steps and struck him with all the force in her hand. He looked stunned, then hurt, then something more dangerous sparked in the depths of his eyes.

  “I want my money,” she said.

  He touched his lip, and looked at the blood on his fingertip. “I see Starling gave you my message.”

  “Indeed he did.”

  He smiled disarmingly, and she had the ridiculous urge to kiss the droplet of blood from his injured mouth.

  “How are you?” he asked, as if this were a social call.

  How was she? She was lonely, unable to sleep, and she was busy—very busy—planning a future without him.

  “I have been waiting for the proceeds from the book,” she clipped. “Fetch the money at once.” Surely those tight breeches, that formfitting coat, had no room to hold Sinjon Rutherford and five hundred pounds.

  His mouth twisted ruefully, and her stomach dropped.

  “You do have it, don’t you? Starling said you did!” She wanted to take the money and sever the last tie between them. It was unbearable to see him and feel pain and temptation. Another minute in his company and she’d—

  “Actually, I haven’t got it at the moment. The buyer promised to pay me today. I had not thought you would arrive so promptly.”

  “Where is this gentleman? I shall go and collect the money myself!”

  “That would hardly be proper,” he said, and she hated the fact that he was right. “I’ll go and get the money and bring it to you at Renshaw House, shall I?” he asked in a patronizing tone that set her teeth on edge. “This evening, perhaps, if you have no plans. Or at midnight?”

  Midnight. Her body quivered.

  She raised her chin. “That won’t do at all. I don’t trust you, especially not with five hundred pounds. You might use my money to flee the country, and I would lose the chance to watch you hang for your crimes.”

  He had the nerve to grin at her, as if she’d offered him a compliment. “Perhaps they’ll allow you to pull the lever to open the trapdoor under my feet.” He gave the bell a sharp tug, and she winced.

  “Would you please inform his lordship that I will be going out on a short errand with Lady Evelyn?” he said when Northcott appeared.

  She led the way down the steps to her coach. Sinjon gave John Coachman a jaunty nod like an old friend, and the fool smiled back. He turned away at Evelyn’s scowl.

  Sinjon gave her a rogue’s grin as he climbed into the coach. “If it pleases you, my lady, I shall ride inside, instead of on the back.”

  It didn’t please her at all. He had mischief dancing in his eyes, and she clenched her hands in her lap. How often had she imagined him inside?

  She swallowed desire and regret, said nothing as he took the seat opposite hers. She couldn’t look at him. She stared out the window, as if the street was the most fascinating thing in the world, though it was the nearness of his body that held her attention. The familiar scent of his skin filled the small space. She could hear him breathing, and their knees almost touched. His eyes were on her, moving over her like a caress, she knew. She fought the desire to stare back.

  Once she had discharged her debt to Major Creighton and left London for good, she would forget all about Sinjon Rutherford. She sent up a prayer to make that possible.

  “Are you cold?” Sinjon asked, and she snapped her attention to him with a frown. “You shivered.”

  She pulled the velvet collar of her spencer more tightly around her throat. “I’m warm enough, thank you.”

  “Then surely you aren’t afraid of me, Evelyn, after all we’ve—”

  She sent him a warning glare. “I do not wish to discuss it!”

  He shifted, and his knee did press hers now, warm through the thin muslin of her dress. “What don’t you wish to discuss? The fact that we were lovers, or that you think I betrayed you?”

  His bluntness surprised her. She scanned his face, looking for smug masculine pride, triumph, but it wasn’t there. She read a twinge of guilt behind his rueful smile. Her mouth dried. Would he apologize now, explain? And then what? She looked down at her gloves as a surge of longing passed through her and she fought to deny it.

  “You lied to me!”

  “Never in bed.” His voice was silky, soothing on her raw nerves. She wanted to believe him, but she didn’t dare.

  “Did Philip send you to spy on me? Is that why you were there, in my house, pretending to be a footman? What other reason could there be?”

  “You’ve heard the charges against me, Evelyn. I needed a place to hide, and a job.”

  “You could have gone home. You have family.”

  “My father disowned me before I l
eft for Spain. He wanted me to become a clergyman.”

  Her mouth twisted. “You? A man of the cloth?”

  He wasn’t insulted. “I agree. I am not suited to that kind of life. I was a good soldier, though. I needed to remain in London to prove my innocence. It means a great deal to me. I don’t mind dying for a cause, but not for something I didn’t do.”

  Evelyn swallowed. She understood. How could she not? Philip had taken everything material from her, and society had stripped her of the rest—dignity, regard, and privacy. Pride was all she had left.

  “You might have at least told me your name,” she said.

  “Ah, but I did, Evelyn. Sin.”

  His quip stung, made her remember what they’d shared, what she’d live without. “Sin. An excellent description. Did that sobriquet come before the rape or after?”

  His mouth tightened as he looked away. He wasn’t going to apologize for deceiving her, for invading her home, her bed, and her heart.

  “Damn you to hell,” she said.

  The rank smell of the Thames invaded the coach, an evil miasma of the city’s worst sins. “We’re at the docks!” she said in surprise.

  “The gentleman who purchased the book is taking ship for Spain. He asked me to meet him before he sailed this evening.”

  “A soldier friend?” she asked scornfully. “One with tastes like yours?”

  “You’re my taste, Evelyn,” he said mildly, letting her make what she wished of the comment as he got out. “Will you wait here?”

  She looked around at the rough faces, the dirty streets, heard angry cries and bawdy singing. “No, I’ll come,” she said quickly, and caught his smirk. She raised her chin. “I told you I don’t trust you.”

  He held out a hand to her, and she took it without thinking. She was almost grateful when he tucked her hand under his arm to lead her up the narrow gangplank, though she was careful not to let it show. Her heart was pounding by the time she reached the deck, and she wondered if it was his touch that did it or the small adventure of boarding a ship.

  He summoned a cabin boy. “I’ll turn you over to this likely lad while I find my friend,” he said.

  The lad sketched a bow, regarding her with cheeky curiosity from under a curling lock of blond hair. “Would you like to see the ship, my lady?” he asked.

  He reminded her of the boys at the Foundling Hospital, but he was well fed, his skin bronzed by the sun. His eyes held pride and hope. It made her smile.

  “I would, if you please,” she said, and followed him through a narrow door that led down a set of steep stairs into a shadowed corridor that smelled of lamp oil and polish.

  He opened a set of doors at the end of the narrow corridor, revealing a well-appointed cabin with wide windows.

  “You can see the whole harbor from here,” the lad chirped.

  She crossed to look. A hundred ships lay at anchor, men of war, merchantmen, and fishing boats. Some were making ready to sail, others arriving. Cutters filled with passengers, boxes, and bundles butted across the open water, sails billowing, wet oars shining in the afternoon sun.

  Evelyn turned to ask the lad a question, but he was gone, and she was alone in the room. She crossed to the door.

  It was locked.

  His wife had matured into a beauty in his absence, Philip thought as he watched her emerge from De Courcey House with a gentleman he didn’t know.

  “Follow them,” he commanded his driver as her coach set off. He remembered Evelyn as pale and dull, with plain brown hair and eyes devoid of emotion. Had he missed something?

  The mouse he’d known would not have dared to remove his belongings or rearrange his furniture. This Evelyn had fire in her eyes, sensual elegance in every lithe line of her figure.

  The hard edge of lust made Philip smirk. Their reunion would take place with the lights on.

  He held a lace handkerchief to his nose as they reached the docks. Evelyn and her escort boarded a ship called the Edmond. The man was handsome, well-built, and confident, and Philip’s lip curled, noting the familiar way he handled his wife, his hand easily spanning her waist as she navigated the narrow gangplank, the trusting way she leaned against him.

  Long minutes ticked by and they failed to emerge. “What the devil are you doing?” he muttered, growing suspicious as the shadows stretched and the ship made ready to sail.

  “Give me your coat,” he demanded of his driver. He made a face as he put the plain work-worn garment over his own.

  Hoisting a bundle from the dock to his shoulder, he followed other similarly burdened men onto the ship. In the hold, he crouched in the shadows.

  Wherever Evelyn was going, he’d find her.

  And when he did, she’d pay for all the sins she’d committed in his absence.

  Chapter 46

  Evelyn heard footsteps on the deck above her and heavy thumps coming from the hold beneath, but no one answered when she called out, and the door remained locked, no matter how persistently she tugged on the latch.

  She looked around for another means of escape, but the windows were weather tight, except for narrow panels that opened an inch or two to admit a gasp of stale London air. The door was solid oak and the furniture was bolted securely to the floor.

  There was nothing to do but wait, and waiting was the last thing she wanted to do.

  Hours passed, and as the afternoon turned to evening, the ship slipped away from the dock. She waved frantically at the passing ships, but aside from a few friendly nods, no one made any move to help her.

  Was Sinjon working for Philip after all? There were rumors that Philip was living in France, in a luxurious chateau once owned by his royal ancestors. She imagined such a place would have deep dungeons in which to hide an inconvenient wife. She would simply disappear.

  Or, she thought, as the ship skipped over the waves and glistening foam sprayed the windows, he might intend to throw her over the side. Her heart lodged in her throat.

  Would Sinjon, her lover, her protector, be capable of such a thing?

  She shut her eyes. He stood accused of other heinous crimes. So did Philip. What would one more sin matter?

  Evelyn clenched her teeth. She would not go quietly. She searched for a weapon, settled on a lantern that hung from a hook above the desk. Taking it down, she held onto it, her eyes on the door, ready for the moment they’d come for her.

  She wasn’t ready at all when the door swung open. She leapt to her feet, dropping the lantern with a clatter. It wasn’t Philip who entered, or Sinjon, but a smiling sailor bearing a tray, followed by the cabin boy who’d locked her in earlier.

  “Evening, milady. I’ve brought you food, and some water for a wash,” the sailor said, and set the heavy tray on the table. The boy opened a cupboard and poured steaming water into a basin securely mounted there, then laid thick towels on the bed.

  “Where is Sinjon Rutherford?” she demanded, not moving.

  “With the captain, I believe, my lady, but he’ll be down to dine with you shortly,” he said calmly. There was nothing sinister in his eyes, she noted.

  “I’d like a word with the captain myself,” she said. “You may take me to him at once.”

  The man’s smile faltered. “I’m afraid I haven’t got orders for that, ma’am.”

  “Then I’ll go myself,” she said, and strode toward the door.

  She walked straight into a black wall in the doorway. Sinjon caught her against his chest.

  She pulled away from him, stepped back. He was dressed in black from head to toe. He looked dangerous, and handsome. She drew a shaky breath.

  “Is there any point in asking where you’re taking me?” she asked. “Or in demanding that you turn this ship back to England at once?”

  He nodded to the sailors, dismissing them.

  “I’ll serve the lady’s dinner,” he said. She’d almost forgotten he’d been her footman. He looked like what he was, a gentleman’s son, an army officer, a man used to command.


  “You were a terrible footman,” she muttered.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “What do you intend to do with me?” she asked, suddenly breathless, aware that they were alone in a cabin with a massive bed.

  “You’ve nothing to fear, Evelyn, I promise. The captain will make you as comfortable as possible for a day or two, and then you can return home.”

  Anger flared. “Is this supposed to be a pleasure trip, then, like a ride in the park?” she demanded.

  He lifted the cover on the first dish, and the tantalizing aroma of beef stew filled the room. He smiled at her, as if he were serving dinner at Renshaw House.

  “Would you like to sit down while I pour the wine?” It sparkled in the glass, ruby in the light of the lantern the sailor had picked up, lit, and put back on the hook.

  “I would not. I want an explanation.”

  “I have business to attend to in France, and you’ll be safer here than in London at present.”

  “Safer here than in my own home?”

  His eyes were in shadow. “Starling told me Philip paid you a visit in the middle of the night.”

  Evelyn felt her skin blanch. Starling hadn’t told her. Was everyone she knew spying on her, reporting on her private life?

  “I believe I fired you, Captain. Mr. Starling had no right to tell you anything. I don’t allow my staff to gossip with outsiders. It’s one of the strictest rules in my household, if you’ll recall.”

  He grinned, a dazzling flash in the dark. “I’m not a footman anymore, and it was a plea for help, not gossip. Do you honestly expect your sixty-year-old butler and four maidservants to protect you? They’d try, though.”

  Her heart turned in her chest. Philip was a big man, violent. “Turn the boat around immediately—please,” she begged, her throat closing on fear for her servants.

  “It’s a ship, Evelyn, and I can’t do that. The captain has his orders. You have nothing to fear. I have been ordered to return you to England unharmed, or the owner of this ship will hang me twice.”