The Charade

by Laura Lee Guhrke

  It was exhilarating because this was the first time in her life she could honestly say she welcomed a man’s desire without wanting to use it against him in some way. It was the first time she could remember ever holding her breath in anticipation of a man’s kiss and feeling such bitter disappointment when that kiss never came.

  It was frightening because she could feel herself falling under his spell the way men had always fallen under hers. She had told him things the other night that she had never told anyone. She was standing in front of him in a gown practically sheer enough to see through, and all she wanted was for him to kiss her again. She felt as if her entire world were turned upside down, and the only right thing in it was him.

  “That’s the second time I’ve seen you blush,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “I never would have thought you the blushing type,” he added, sounding surprised.

  Katie told herself not to be a fool. She could not start getting all calf-eyed about Ethan Harding. No man was worth risking her life. She held out one hand impatiently. “Stop blathering, and give me the damn book.”

  He held it out to her, and she took it, irritated by the fact that he was so cool when she felt so flustered. “When do you want me to take this to Cambridge?” she asked.

  “You’ll need to leave at first light. If you know how to ride, then go by horseback. That way, you won’t have to worry that your carriage driver will talk afterward.”

  “You hired my carriage driver. Don’t you trust him?”

  “I don’t trust anyone. Make certain you’re not followed. And for God’s sake, be careful.”

  “I will,” she promised.

  “Send me a note when you return from Cambridge that all went well, but mention no names, and give me no details. Holbrook is having a card party the following night, and I will call for you in my carriage at seven.”

  He opened her bedroom door to depart but paused in the doorway to look at her over his shoulder. His grin was wicked, and she saw that teasing, dangerous look return to his eyes. “By the way, Katie, there’s no need to be embarrassed,” he told her. “I didn’t see a thing.”

  She did not believe him for an instant, but she could not help laughing as he departed. He was such an outrageous liar, she thought as she crawled into bed.

  He was a liar, a rogue, and a spy who came and went like the wind. But he had convictions, and he had courage. And though he had blackmailed her into working for him, he was capable of surprising gallantry. Though he had threatened to send her to Willoughby, he had saved her from Weston.

  And now you are going to repay him by betraying him to his enemies.

  Katie slammed her hands over her ears, but she could not shut out the guilt that whispered to her. She closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep, but the awful image of Ethan swinging on the gallows came into her mind, making sleep impossible.

  She squeezed her eyes more tightly shut, working by sheer force of will to banish that horrible image from her imagination, but this time she could not succeed. It haunted her mind like a shadowy ghost, and try as she might, she could not dismiss it.

  Suddenly, she found it hard to breathe. She sat up, flinging back the sheets and trying to banish her rising panic, but it was a futile attempt.

  I can’t do it, she thought wildly. I can’t turn him over to Lowden. I could never live with myself.

  She curled up into a ball, wrapping her arms around her bent knees. She gulped in deep breaths of air, trying to calm her jangled nerves. “You can do it,” she murmured over and over. “You can do it because you must. You have no choice. You have to do it. It’s your life or his. You have to do it.”

  When she thought of him, when she remembered the thrill of being in his arms and the delicious warmth of his kiss and the way he had come to her rescue, when she contemplated actually betraying him, it was so hard to accept.

  Katie leaned back against the fat pillows of her luxurious bed, and for the first time, she took no pleasure in the softness. She did not sleep well that night. Truth be told, she did not sleep at all.

  The Blue Boar Inn was located only half a mile north of Cambridge on the Lexington Road, and Katie found it easily. It was a simple two-story clapboard house set well back from the road, but the sign that hung at the roadside, a large painted affair of bright yellow with a blue boar insignia, was difficult to miss.

  When she walked inside the tavern, it was empty save for the barkeep, who stood behind the bar drying freshly washed tankards from the night before. He looked up as she entered, and he frowned as she paused just inside the door.

  “Yes?” he asked, looking at her with such a fierce scowl that Katie felt her face grow hot. Was this fellow naturally of a sour disposition, or was it perhaps that she seemed untrustworthy?

  She slid her saddlebag off her shoulder and told herself not to be silly. No one could tell she was really a Tory spy just by looking at her. And if this barkeep had suspicions, what of it? She had valuable information, and that gave her the upper hand. “I am here to see a man named Joseph Bramley,” she said firmly. “I was told I could find him here.”

  The barkeep’s frown deepened. “He’s still abed. What do you want him for?”

  “I’m afraid that is a personal matter,” she answered, forcing herself to give the man her most charming smile and thereby take any possible sting out of her words. “I have been instructed to speak only with Mr. Bramley and no one else. It is very important, and I believe he is expecting me.”

  The man tossed down his towel. “Wait here.”

  Katie moved over to the fire to warm herself as the barkeep went upstairs. It was several moments before the man came back down. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder to the stairs. “Go on up.”

  Katie mounted the stairs. When she reached the top, she peered down a long, dark hallway. At the end, she could see a short, stocky man in breeches and shirt standing by a doorway. His face was vaguely familiar, and she thought he might be one of the many shadowy figures she had seen slipping in and out of the Mermaid during her first week there as a spy, but she knew she had never been introduced to him. He beckoned her with an impatient wave of his hand. “Come, lass. Don’t just stand there.”

  Katie walked down the narrow corridor and followed the man into one of the bedrooms.

  “I recognize you from the Mermaid Tavern,” he said in a low voice as he closed the door behind him. “What is your name?”

  “Katie,” she answered, also keeping her voice down.

  “Who sent you?”

  “A friend to us both. The man some call John Smith.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled with sudden amusement, and he chuckled. “Lucky man, Smith. I should have such pretty friends as you.” He paused, then asked, “Has he given you a message for me?”

  “Not a message, sir.” She opened the saddlebag, cast a quick glance at the door and windows, then pulled out the book and handed it to Bramley.

  He opened it and scanned a few pages, nodding his head several times as he did so. His understanding of what was inside was clearly much greater than hers.

  Before leaving Boston early this morning, she had spent more than two hours poring over that book. She could see that some printed pages had been pasted over the existing ones, but the words were rhymes that might be read in a nursery, rhymes of nonsense that Shakespeare never wrote. It was obvious they were coded messages, and as hard as she had tried, she could not understand their meaning.

  She was glad that she could not have kept the book to give Lowden. The viscount would not be back for several more days, and if she had not brought the book to Cambridge, Ethan would surely have discovered her treachery long before the viscount could return and protect her.

  “Excellent!” he exclaimed. “It never ceases to amaze me how he obtains his information.”

  “It astounds me as well, sir,” Katie admitted. “Do you wish to send a reply?”

  He shook his head. “No, except to say that I will pass
this on to the proper people.”

  She nodded and turned to go, but she had taken only a few steps before Bramley’s voice stopped her.

  “Katie?”

  She paused and glanced at him over her shoulder. “Yes, sir?”

  “You are a stranger to Boston, I’m told. Why do you involve yourself in our cause? Do you dream of liberty?”

  “No,” she answered. That was a lie. She was in this for liberty—her own—but somehow she was reluctant to explain this to Bramley. Instead, she asked, “What about you, sir?”

  “Eh? What do you mean?”

  “Why do you risk all you have in a cause that seems impossible to win?”

  His reply came without hesitation. “Because I believe that the will of common men should prevail over the whim of kings.”

  A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “You sound like the one who sent me.”

  “Aye. He believes the same.” Joseph tilted his head to one side. “And you, miss? What do you believe?”

  Katie opened her mouth to reply, but she could think of nothing to say that would answer that question. She used to believe only in herself and surviving one more day. Now, she didn’t know what she believed anymore.

  “Molly tells me you are rather fond of our friend Smith,” Bramley murmured. “So perhaps what you believe in is a man with stormy gray eyes and enormous courage, and perhaps that is enough.”

  Katie thought of how Ethan had looked at her last night, and she turned away without answering. If that was what she believed in, if she took her life in her hands because of the way a man looked at her when she wore nothing but a towel, then she was a simpleton indeed.

  14

  After her trip to Cambridge, Katie had no opportunity to see Ethan until the following night, when he escorted her to William Holbrook’s supper party. During the carriage ride there, she told him all had gone well with Joseph Bramley, and his response was, as usual, an enigmatic one. “Yes, I know.”

  “How could you possibly know?” she countered. “It happened only yesterday.”

  He gave her a smile far too secretive for her peace of mind. “I have my sources.”

  Katie prayed those sources wouldn’t find out which side she was truly on. “Before we arrive at this party, are you going to tell me what I’m supposed to do?”

  “I actually have two purposes in mind for you this evening. The first will be simple.” He turned toward her on the carriage seat. “Lowden is away, but one of Holbrook’s guests tonight will be his wife, Lady Lowden. When you are partnered with her at cards, see what you can discover about her husband. Any information would be useful, but as I’ve already told you, I want to know what he is really doing in Boston.”

  “And you think his wife might tell me?”

  “Possibly. It is certainly worth the effort to try. Engage her in conversation, use flattery or charm or whatever you think might work. Do you think you can do it?”

  “I expect so,” she said serenely. “That kind of thing is usually simple enough.”

  “I’m glad you are so confident.”

  Katie shrugged, knowing it didn’t really matter if she succeeded in that assignment or not. She just had to pretend to make an effort at it until Lowden returned. “I am confident. After all, didn’t you make this bargain with me because I am clever, audacious, and a very good liar?”

  Ethan laughed at how she threw his own assessment of her back in his face. “Did I also tell you that you are far too conceited for your own good?”

  “There is no sense in downplaying my talents, since you already know what they are,” she countered. “What is the other task you have for me?”

  “That will not be as simple. Holbrook is one of Gage’s closest aides. He keeps his private papers in the desk of his study, and I am hoping there is some information about Lowden among them. During the party, I want to take a look through his desk to see if we can find anything that might be valuable.”

  “Why do you need me for this?”

  “Holbrook keeps his desk locked. I don’t know how to pick a lock. But if I remember one of our conversations at the Mermaid correctly, you do.”

  Katie wanted to groan. This was not something she could simply pretend to do. If Ethan was with her and wanted the papers in Holbrook’s desk, she would have to play along. “You really expect me to break into the desk of one of Gage’s aides?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “I was hoping you would have some ideas on that score. You are so much better at this sort of thing than I am.”

  “And if we are caught by Holbrook or one of his servants or one of his guests, what explanation could we possibly give for rifling through his desk?”

  “I’m hoping you’ll be able to think of a plausible story for us to offer should that happen. I have faith in your cleverness, your audacity, your talent for lying—”

  “Enough already,” she interrupted. “All this flattery from you, and I will end up conceited. But there must be a simple way to do this so that we don’t get caught.” She frowned and fell silent, chewing on her lower lip as she stared out the carriage window. Life, she decided, was so much simpler when she was merely a thief, not a spy.

  She couldn’t very well refuse. And if Ethan were right that there was information about Lowden in those papers locked inside Holbrook’s desk, it would probably be worthwhile for her to know it. After all, she couldn’t trust the viscount any more than she could trust Ethan, and it would be wise to have all the information she could get her hands on.

  Suddenly, she straightened on the seat. “Aren’t we on the west end of Beacon Street?” She pointed out the window. “Isn’t Mount Whoredom right up there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Stop the carriage.”

  “Why?”

  “I have a plan, but to carry it out there are some things I need. Stop the carriage.”

  Ethan rapped heavily on the roof of the carriage, and the driver slowed to a stop. Katie opened the door and jumped out. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Just wait here.” She started to turn away but paused and held out her hand to him. “Do you have any money?”

  Ethan dug into his pockets and fished out several Massachusetts Old Tenor coins. She shook her head. “I’d prefer British sterling. At least a guinea.”

  He gave her the needed money. “A full guinea is enough to buy your way onto a boat out of Boston,” he said. “I hope that’s not your intention.”

  “I couldn’t live for long on a guinea, so don’t worry,” she told him. “I expect far more generosity out of you than that. Willoughby won’t sell my indenture for a mere guinea.” With those words, she took the money, closed the carriage door, and vanished into the darkness. It was a full twenty minutes before she returned.

  “I was about to go in search of you,” he said as she climbed in. “What were you doing for so long?”

  The carriage lurched forward to continue on toward Holbrook’s house as Katie pulled the two items she had acquired with Ethan’s money out of her cloak pocket. “Buying these,” she told him as she held up a small vial of blue glass and a flat leather pouch about three inches square.

  “What are those?”

  “The weapons of choice among thieves.”

  “Weapons? What do you mean?”

  She saw the frown on his face, and she responded with a tiny smile. He looked worried now, because he didn’t feel in control of her or their situation. She was rather pleased about that. Ethan was always so cool, so calm about everything. It would do him good to sweat a bit. “You’ll see.”

  “Katie, what are you scheming?”

  She thought of the other night, when he had interrupted her bath, and she decided it would be fun to make him sweat a bit more. He deserved it. She rested her feet on the carriage seat opposite and pulled back the hem of her skirt to reveal her legs, which were encased in the finest, wispiest silk stocki
ngs Elizabeth Waring had to offer. “You want to get into Holbrook’s desk, don’t you?” she asked as she tucked the small glass bottle into the garter at her knee.

  “Of course,” Ethan answered, but it didn’t escape her notice that he was looking at her legs, and the look on his face told her quite clearly that Holbrook’s desk was the last thing he was thinking about just now.

  She slid the leather pouch into her other garter. “And you don’t want to get caught, do you?”

  “No.”

  “Well, then,” she said, pulling her skirts back down and turning to him with a wicked grin, “you’ll just have to trust me.”

  In Katie’s opinion, Lady Lowden proved to be the two worst things any woman could be: dull and stupid. Two hours of card play with her were more than enough for Katie to decide she and the viscount deserved each other. Holbrook’s wife was also at her table, and Katie found her to be just as Ethan described—lovely and nice. Holbrook was not worthy of her. But Rosalie Holbrook made no secret of the fact that she actually loved her husband. She must know the man was rude, overbearing, blatantly sexual, and probably unfaithful, but if she did know these things, they did not alter her good opinion of him. Katie found her oddly touching and very sweet. Lady Lowden was another matter entirely.

  When she managed to finagle a moment with Ethan at the punch table for a whispered exchange of information, she gave him her opinion of the vis-countess.

  “Yes, but are you learning anything?” he murmured, handing her a crystal goblet of rum punch.

  “Oh, heaps of things.”

  “Good.” Ethan put a hand beneath her elbow and steered her to an upholstered bench in an unoccupied corner of Holbrook’s card room. He sat down beside her. “What have you learned?”

  “Lady Lowden misses London, is hopeless at cards, and her pug dog doesn’t like sea voyages.” Changing her voice to a well-bred nasal tone, she drawled in a low voice, “My darling little Pudding was so ill, and the captain just refused to do anything about it.”

  Ethan threw back his head and laughed at her excellent imitation of the viscountess, causing several people in the room to look in their direction.