Читать книгу The Duke's Redemption - Carla Capshaw - Страница 10

Charles Towne, South Carolina

July 1781

Elise patted her powdered wig into place, smoothed the green silk gown over her hips and took a deep, relaxing breath as she prepared to leave the safety of her bedchamber.

Dear Lord, You’ve promised You’ll never leave me. Please help me through tonight.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the dimly lit hall and closed the heavy door behind her. A moment later, Christian Sayer departed his own chamber two doors down. A handsome young man, Christian looked the picture of a wealthy planter’s son in a finely woven white shirt, honey-toned breeches and matching embroidered waistcoat. A well-cropped wig disguised his dark brown hair. His blue eyes sparkled with their usual mischief. Like her, he possessed unquestioning loyalty to the American cause, and worked under the directive of his father, spymaster Zechariah Sayer.

Christian greeted her with an appreciative glance and bowed gallantly. “You look sublime, dearest. That bright shade of green you’re wearing matches your eyes precisely.” He sighed as though put upon. “I can see tonight’s ball will offer me little enjoyment. I’ll be far too busy fending off the sea of gents bent on wooing you.”

Elise rolled her eyes and restrained her laughter. She wasn’t the plainest of women, but there was nothing spectacular about her brown hair, and her lips were too full for her oval face. Christian loved to tease. More oft than not, she was his favorite target. Other than her half sister, Princess, he was the only person she held dear. She loved him like a brother.

“I can take care of myself, thank you. If one of us must defend the other this night, it will be I protecting you. Alice Harris has marriage on her mind, or so I hear.”

“Alice Harris, you say? She’s fetching enough. Since you won’t have me, I suppose she’ll do. Tell me of her plans, will you? With a woman like Alice, I’ll need to be prepared.”

“What makes you think I know her full intentions? Alice and I are hardly confidants.”

Christian flashed a wicked grin. “I’m aware that you know everything, my dear Fox.”

Elise swatted him with her folded fan. “Shh, you silly dolt. Don’t bandy that name about. Do you wish to see me dangling from the nearest hangman’s tree?”

“Rest easy. There’s no one here. Do you think I’d be that foolhardy?”

“I suppose not, Wolf,” she agreed, using his own alias. “But we can’t be too careful. Charles Towne is crawling with redcoats. So many will be in attendance tonight, one would think King George himself planned to call.”

“Aye, you know father has little choice but to include them if he hopes to maintain control of Brixton Hall. Thank God they believe he’s a Loyalist or we’d all be out on our ear.”

Elise said nothing as they meandered toward the top of the stairs. What she wouldn’t do to be released and away from the Hall. But then where would Prin go? Surely the war would end soon, and she and her sister would be free. “There’s no doubt Zechariah is convincing in all that he does.”

“Do I detect a note of bitterness, Elise?”

“What would I have to be bitter about?”

“I can think of a good many things,” Christian said with sympathy.

“It’s just that I’m so tired of this life, of always playing the role of someone other than myself,” she said, sorry the conversation had taken a personal turn.

“We all wear masks of one kind or another to protect ourselves, m’dear. You play the scatterbrain, Zechariah the Tory and I—”

“The soulless rake,” she interjected sweetly.

He grinned, unrepentant. “I do my part. Innocent girl that you are, it might surprise you to know that the wives and mistresses of British officers are more forthcoming with their secrets once they’ve been exposed to my charm. It’s delicate and dangerous work.”

“Dangerous? Ha!”

“Of course it’s dangerous. Have you not heard? There is no fury like a woman scorned. Once I’ve gleaned my information I’m required to move on to the next fair dove—”

“Sitting duck, you mean.”

“Ah, but it is the least I can do for our cause.”

They stopped at the top of the stairs. Once again Elise suffered a twinge of unease. Christian squeezed her hand in commiseration. “We all do what we must. Seven months have passed since Hawk’s betrayal. Father is growing impatient with you. If you don’t join the ranks again soon, he’ll send you back to Roger.”

At the mention of her stepfather, she grimaced. Roger was akin to a viper in her mind. He lived for profit no matter the pain he caused others. Her voice dipped to a whisper. “No one is more aware of my precarious position than I. I’ll act my part, and no one will ever guess I’m a murderess.”

Christian frowned. “Shush, don’t speak nonsense. You did what you had to do and defended yourself against the traitor. Should you have died or allowed your capture in order to line our enemy’s pockets with silver?”

She sighed. T’was a familiar argument. “I know I had no choice. Still, the nightmare plagues me. I’ve prayed and I know the Lord has forgiven me, but I can still feel Hawk’s blood on my hands.”

In the flickering candlelight of the stairwell, her friend’s expression changed to one of concern as he displayed a rare moment of seriousness. “I know, but you should put your mind at ease. You didn’t pull the trigger or intend to see him dead. In my estimation, the world is a far better place without a turncoat among us.”

“Perhaps, but I wish I’d not been the one involved.”

“Trust me, the memory will fade in time.” Christian pulled her close for a brief hug. “Now, tell me of your new orders.”

They continued down the stairs, and she grew more reluctant with each step. “His name is Drake Amberly. He claims to be a ship owner interested in reestablishing trade with colonies under British control. Zechariah wants to know if he can be persuaded to join our cause.”

Christian frowned. “I met Amberly yesterday in Charles Towne. He’s a disturbing gent, not one to tangle with, I’d wager. He conveys an easy temper, but there’s a menace about him, a danger he fails to conceal completely. Be careful of the man.”

Elise took his advice to heart. “It’s time we changed our conversation. This close to our destination even the walls are listening.”

They finished their descent in silence. Elise used the time to compose herself like an actress preparing for opening night. The chatter of their guests’ conversation wafted through the house, growing louder until it became a roar as she and Christian reached the mansion’s first floor. House slaves hustled past carrying silver trays laden with food. The scents of roast pork, fowl and spiced fruit blended to create an appealing combination.

“So, the pair of you has finally decided to join us.” They turned in unison to see Zechariah walking toward them, a scowl pinching his shiny brow.

A short, rotund man, the elder Sayer possessed a massive belly that separated his crimson waistcoat from the top of his fuchsia trousers. His stock appeared as though he’d tied it without benefit of a looking glass and his skin shone more ruddy than usual thanks to the chalked wig that sat askew atop his head.

In the eighteen months since she’d arrived at Brixton Hall, it never ceased to amaze Elise that a man unable to harmonize his own clothing could effectively coordinate one of the Patriots’ most successful assemblies of espionage.

“Of course, Father,” Christian said. “I’d never miss so grand a gathering, especially one given in my honor. A man turns five and twenty but once in his life. Nothing could keep me away.”

Known for his sour disposition, Zechariah grunted, obviously not amused by his son’s facetious manner. “I don’t appreciate being left to greet our guests alone.”

Before Christian could reply, the strains of a harpsichord and stringed quartet shifted tempo, announcing the commencement of dancing. Merry laughter drifted into the foyer from several nearby rooms.

“Our guests seem happy enough,” Elise commented in an effort to change the subject. Now was not the time for the two men to quarrel, as they were wont to do far too often.

The spymaster took her hand, but continued to eye his son. “Yes, and we should join them. As usual, the ladies are eager for this young buck’s attentions. The gentlemen have already begun to ask after you, Elise. In fact, there’s one in particular I want you to meet.”

Drake leaned against the mantel, watching the festivities with sharp eyes. The merriment of the party might have cheered him under different circumstances, but frustration flayed his nerves and wore his patience thin. Kirby hadn’t exaggerated the Fox’s elusiveness. Drake had spent a fortune in bribes, yet learned little concerning the rebel spy. Only a nearly nonexistent trail had led him here to Brixton Hall, one of the largest plantations in the Carolinas.

His contacts had assured him the Fox would be in attendance tonight. A ball such as this provided the perfect opportunity for spies and their web of associates to carry out their business unnoticed and unhindered.

Drake raised his glass and sampled the sweet punch. He suffered no illusions the Fox would give himself away. He planned to keep a watchful eye, search for clues that might reveal the man’s identity at a later date.

He perused the room, absorbing each detail. Compared to the drawing rooms he frequented in England, this one was small and plain, though artfully decorated in bright shades of yellow and blue. An abundance of Chippendale furniture lined three walls. The rugs had been rolled back to reveal a polished, wood-planked floor where a group of laughing dancers performed a reel.

Since his arrival in the Colonies three months prior, Drake had done his best to change his manner, dress and speech to match that of a man of trade. Lieutenant Kirby assured him he’d succeeded in his deception though they hadn’t stayed anywhere long enough to put his disguise to a serious test.

Drake located Lieutenant Kirby near the refreshment table. The soldier had been contributing to the hunt by eavesdropping as he moved from place to place about the room.

The music faded. All eyes turned toward the doorway as Zechariah, his son, Christian, and a stunning young woman entered the room. The guests clapped for long moments, quieting for Zechariah when he raised his hands to plead for silence. The planter welcomed his friends and neighbors before offering a joyous toast in honor of his son.

It was the woman, however, who arrested Drake’s attention. He watched her, his interest keen. Like the other women in attendance, she wore an elaborately arranged wig. Quite inexplicably he felt a prick of irritation at being denied a view of her hair’s true color. Her face was pure beauty, with large wide eyes, a slender nose and full luscious lips that begged to be savored.

His eyes roamed over her tall, gently curved frame. The green gown she wore shimmered against her luminous skin. Diamonds around her neck and dangling from her delicate ears sparkled in the luster light, but it was her bright smile that lit up her face, and for him, the room.

He straightened into a more attentive posture, unable to divert his eyes from the girl as she allowed Christian Sayer to lead her to the dance floor, where the other guests followed them in a minuet.

Drake’s fingers clenched the glass in his hand. He didn’t care for the scene before him. The girl gazed into her escort’s eyes too often for Drake’s liking, flashing Christian a beautiful smile that Drake began to covet for himself.

Kirby joined him. “She’s fair to look upon, is she not, sir?”

With his eyes riveted on the couple, Drake nodded. “Indeed. Who is she?”

“Her name is Elise Cooper. I heard the wallflowers discussing her while I enjoyed the refreshments. According to them she’s an orphan and Zechariah’s ward. They also mentioned she’s as dimwitted as she is pretty.”

“Jealous harpies, I’d wager. What of her relationship with the son? ’Tis clear the puppy’s besotted with her. Are they affianced?”

“I don’t believe so, sir. I’ve heard no word. Perhaps they will be.”

Not if I win her first. Startled by the thought, Drake rejected it immediately. He had no time nor inclination to court her, no matter how beautiful she was. Still, he breathed a sigh of relief when the girl relinquished Christian to another partner and went to stand with Zechariah at the edge of the dance floor.

Across the room, the fine hairs on Elise’s arms and the back of her neck stood to attention, alerting her to the odd sensation of being watched.

She looked around, trying to appear nonchalant. Her breath caught in her throat when she noticed the man observing her. He was dark, handsome in a fierce sort of way. His sculpted lips turned in a seductive half smile, but it was the long scar along his jaw that intrigued her.

Tall and broad-shouldered, he cut a fine figure in a black waistcoat and breeches. His stark white shirt and elegant but simple stock stood in sharp contrast with his golden skin. He wore his black hair tied at the nape, one of only a few men in the room bold enough to refuse a wig.

His gaze captured hers, and his magnetic eyes seemed to discern her darkest secrets. His stare rattled her nerves and made her instantly more aware of herself in a manner that was most disconcerting.

To a woman used to being in the midst of trouble, he seemed the essence of it. She decided then to steer clear of him, for in one glance she knew his ilk: pure danger in masculine form.

Zechariah patted her hand. “Elise? Are you ill?”

She blinked and looked down into his round face. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“You’ve nearly drawn blood.”

Her gaze fell to where her fingernails dug into his linen-clad arm. She released him immediately.

Her spymaster fiddled with the froth of lace at his wrist. “Get hold of yourself, girl. You’ll never accomplish what you must if you’re more skittish than a colt.”

Elise narrowed her eyes and bit back a sharp retort. She kept her expression cheerful so as not to give away the game to onlookers, but she resented his tone.

She despised Zechariah’s hold on her life. But he’d offered the escape she’d prayed for as part of the bargain she’d made to free her sister. For now, she could do little but accept his sharp ways. Others believed she was his ward, when in actuality he was her warden.

“I’m neither skittish nor incapable of performing my task. The man by the mantel, the dark one, he startled me is all. I turned to see him staring a hole in my back.”

Zechariah observed the man covertly. “That, my dear, is Drake Amberly, the man you’re to investigate. You’d do well to encourage his interest. If he were to become besotted with you, it would make your task that much easier.”

Elise bit back a sharp retort. Her instincts warned that Amberly was the one man in the Colonies she should avoid at all costs. “I have a troublesome feeling about him.”

“Perhaps meeting him will alleviate the sensation.” His amiable tone cloaked a rod of iron. “Allow me to introduce you.”

She took a deep breath and released it slowly. The unease she’d labored under for much of the day increased. Her palms grew moist. The closer she walked toward Amberly, the faster her heart raced.

When they came abreast of the man, Zechariah extended his beefy paw in greeting. He spoke loudly, competing with the party’s din of music, dancers and conversation. “Amberly, I’m pleased to see you’ve joined us. I hope the journey from Charles Towne was not too taxing.”

“Not in the least. The river was smooth, the boat swift. I arrived in no time at all.”

“Excellent, I’m glad to hear it.” Zechariah rocked on his heels, his hands clamped behind his back. “I trust the maid saw you settled?”

“Most comfortably, thank you. Your hospitality is much appreciated.”

Even as he spoke with Zechariah, Amberly’s eyes returned to her face again and again. Heat rose to her cheeks. She hoped the powder and rouge she’d applied before the party disguised her reaction.

“We’re pleased to have you here.” Zechariah turned to her. “Amberly, I’d like you to meet my ward, Miss Elise Cooper. Elise, this is Mr. Drake Amberly, direct from London. He’ll be staying with us for the next few weeks while he convinces me to contract his shipping line.”

No one told her he’d be a long-term guest. She offered her hand politely, schooling her features to prevent her dismay from reflecting on her face.

His large, tanned hand engulfed her much smaller one. He bowed and kissed the back of her knuckles. His scent of spice and soap teased her senses. She shivered, aware her response to him was profoundly peculiar. Every nerve in her body warned her to make an excuse and run away. Only the force of her will kept her planted before him.

Intense, lushly lashed eyes caught and held hers. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Cooper. I am most fortunate to make your acquaintance.”

His voice was deep and smooth except for a few clipped words that reminded her of the English upper class. The observation brought her halfway back to her senses. She had to remember her orders and not allow herself to be waylaid by a handsome face.

She giggled, resorting to her role as a featherbrain. Experience had taught her a man let his guard down around a woman he considered a simpleton. “I’m charmed, Mr. Amberly. A girl could lose her head with a man as handsome as you in the room.”

“Why thank you, Miss Cooper. I’m flattered.”

He seemed more amused than complimented. She tapped him playfully with her fan and gifted him with a flirtatious grin. “Surely not. I’ve seen the other ladies swarming you tonight. Most likely you’ve grown weary of praise.” She motioned toward the dancers behind her. “Forgive my boldness, but would you be so kind, sir? I truly love to dance. Since my escort is the guest of honor, he’s obliged to take a turn with the other ladies tonight. I fear I’ll be left to sit with the matrons if one of you fine gentlemen doesn’t take pity on me.”

“It would be my honor, Miss Cooper. However, I never acquired the skill of dancing. May I interest you in some refreshment instead?”

“You never learned to dance? How unusual,” she remarked, her eyes as wide and innocent as a babe’s.

“Dancing isn’t a sport in large demand on a ship.”

She smiled coyly. His refusal to dance might work to her advantage. Perhaps she could get him alone, away from the crowd and music that would disrupt conversation and her ability to uncover more about him. “I so wanted to dance, but I suppose a glass of refreshment will do. Why don’t you fetch us a drink? I’ll gather my shawl and meet you in the garden. It’s such a pretty night. I see no reason to waste it indoors.”

Amberly grinned. “A superb idea, Miss Cooper. To the garden it is.”

Drake enjoyed the view of Elise’s slim back as she departed. What an intriguing female. He wondered how many men swallowed her act. She played the part of an empty-headed chit, but intelligence shone from her startling green eyes. He wondered what game she played at. In his experience, all women had something to hide. Despite his earlier decision not to pursue her, he found uncovering her secrets might provide an interesting diversion during his stay in South Carolina.

Zechariah cleared his throat, reclaiming Drake’s attention. “I apologize, Amberly. Our Elise possesses a double portion of boldness. I hope you weren’t offended.”

“No, indeed I find her delightful.”

“Excellent. She’s a wonderful girl, if not the smartest one. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must see to my other guests.”

With a nod, Zechariah left and entered conversation with a nearby couple. Drake made his way to the refreshment table and accepted two glasses of punch from a servant before heading to the garden.

Not far from the open French doors, Christian Sayer intercepted him. “Evening, Amberly. I trust you’re enjoying our hospitality.”

“Very much. I just spoke with your father and his ward—”

“That’s why I’m here. Is one of those glasses for Miss Cooper?”

Drake nodded.

“Then I’ll tell you this as a friend,” Christian’s smile held an edge of warning. “Miss Cooper requires the greatest respect. Should you harm her, I’d be gravely disappointed. Treat her well. I’d hate to have to shoot you.”

Drake cocked an eyebrow in mild disbelief. The puppy was actually warning him off—an unusual event to be sure for a man used to being hounded by every flesh-peddling mama in England. His sister would howl with laughter if she were here to witness Sayer’s threat.

Drake suppressed his amusement and considered Christian with new eyes. The younger man possessed the demeanor of an open, friendly individual, yet it was clear he had darker, hidden depths. Could he be the Fox?

Making a mental note to watch Christian more closely, Drake tipped his head. “Save your threats for someone who will be impressed by them, puppy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Miss Cooper is waiting for her drink.”