Surrender (32 page)

His eyes flickered. “I have heard the story. I do not condemn you.”

“I have a daughter to raise.” She held her head proudly. “These are very difficult times. Henri left us in rather strained circumstances. I simply have no inclination—and no time—to mourn now. Instead, I must find the means with which to raise my daughter and launch her successfully.” She shrugged. Now she saw Lucas leaving the salon. He was on his way to the library, but he glanced directly at her.

Did he know where Jack was?

She smiled at D’Archand. “I also have no time or inclination for romance.”

His eyes widened. “You are brutal, madame.” But he spoke softly, without condemnation.

“I do not mean to be. But Julianne and Amelia speak so highly of you—I do not wish to mislead you. However—” and she smiled briefly “—I do have the time and inclination to make new friends.”

He slowly smiled. “And they have spoken highly of you, madame. I believe I understand you. I would still like to show you London—as a friend, of course.”

She smiled then, with relief. “I hope I have not offended you.”

He returned the smile. “I am rather intrigued with your candor. It is not usual, here in town.” He bowed and walked off.

Evelyn inhaled. He might wish to be friends, but his admiration was obvious. She realized her temples throbbed, but as she reached up to rub them, she realized Lucas remained in the corridor, staring at her.

Evelyn turned breathlessly to face him.

He strode swiftly to her then, and bowed. “Lady D’Orsay, it is good to see you again, although I do wish we were meeting under different circumstances.”

Her heart lurched with pain. God, she was still so heartbroken, she thought. Lucas looked so much like Jack and it hurt. “Hello, Mr. Greystone.” She held out her hand.

He took it briefly, his gaze searching. “Are my sisters taking proper care of you and your daughter?”

“Amelia is about to have a child—yet she is rushing about town, for my sake! And no one is kinder than Julianne.” She stopped, aware of tears arising.

“Yes, Amelia is unstoppable and no one is kinder than Julianne.” He reached into an interior breast pocket and handed her an ivory linen handkerchief.

Evelyn did not use it. She asked low, “Where is Jack? Is he all right?”

“He is healed, Countess, having fully recovered from his recent ordeal.”

She bit her lip, tears forming. “So you have seen him recently?”

“He is my brother,” Lucas said. “Of course I have seen him.”

Evelyn had spent the past two weeks in London, trying so hard to enjoy being Julianne’s guest—trying so hard to recover from her affair with Jack. But no amount of pretense could make her life in London right. “You did not tell me where he is.”

“I can only tell you not to worry. He is safe.”

She knew she should not say another word. “I want to see him! Can you help me—please?”

“Right now, it is best if you stay away from one another.”

The tears rose up again, more swiftly, with more heat. Evelyn dabbed her eyes. Why would Lucas say such a thing? Did he know about her involvement with Jack, as the rest of the family did? “What has Jack said?”

“Does it matter? I know my brother, and when he speaks of you, I can read between the lines. Your relationship is rather obvious—to me, at least.” He studied her. “Do you love him?”

“I am trying to forget him.”

He slowly smiled. “Seeing him will hardly accomplish that.”

She hugged herself. “I realize that. This has been so hard, Mr. Greystone. I must speak with Jack—one final time.”

His brows rose, incredulous. Then he said, “Call me Lucas, Lady D’Orsay. But I must overstep myself now. Jack cares for you and your daughter—and his enemies know it. You are his Achilles’ heel.”

Evelyn bit back a cry. “Believe me, sir, I know so well that we must not be together!”

“Then find resolve.” His gray eyes flashed. “Because he has enough troubles now, and if you are used against him, it could be his death.”

Evelyn gasped.

“I do not wish to frighten you any more than you are already frightened—I know what you have been through.” He leaned close. His gaze was hard, but not hostile. “I actually came here tonight to meet you. Maybe the day will come when I can take you to Jack, but that day is not now.”

She almost felt like asking him when that day would be—if it would be before or after the Quiberon Bay invasion. She knew better than to say such things.

“I realize you have a pair of protectors in Grenville and Paget. But you may also come to me, at any time of the night or day.” With that, he nodded in parting. “I am sorry you are distressed. I am even sorrier if I have caused you distress.”

“It is not your fault,” she whispered. He bowed and turned toward the library. Evelyn sank against the wall. At least Jack was all right.

“Evelyn.”

At the sound of Amelia’s brisk tone, Evelyn turned and forced a smile. The Countess of St Just was a petite woman with dark blond hair and classic features. Amelia looped their arms. “They look like twins, don’t they?” She was sympathetic. “Until one gets to know them—as they could not be more different.”

“I thought he was Jack at first…. I was so shaken,” Evelyn managed.

Amelia patted her hand. “I wish I could help you through this terrible time, but I know it will pass!” She shook her head then with disparagement. “I must sound like Julianne, who is an eternal romantic. Evelyn, you seem tired. I will give your regards to everyone, if you wish to retire.”

Evelyn was relieved. “Would you please tell Julianne it has been a lovely evening? But after speaking with Lucas, I am undone. I do not think I can converse sensibly now.”

“How often must we insist that Jack is fine and you must stop worrying?”

Evelyn had heard all about Amelia’s relationship with Grenville—who had courted her when she was sixteen, only to vanish without a word and marry someone else. Ten years later he had reappeared in Cornwall for his wife’s funeral—and Amelia had felt obligated to come to his aid and help with his children. Of course, eventually the love affair had been renewed.

But for a time, Grenville had fled the country, wanted for treason. Grenville had actually been spying for both the French and British governments. “Did you ever cease worrying about St Just,” she asked, “when he was an outlaw?”

“Of course not,” Amelia acquiesced. “I did what you are doing—I took refuge in my duties, taking care of the children and his home, until he returned. Aimee is doing wonderfully now. You must concentrate on that.” And then she smiled and hugged her. “Be patient, Evelyn. That is the best advice I can give you, other than to have faith.”

Evelyn hugged her in return, then slowly went upstairs. She remained shaken. Seeing Lucas had reopened every wound she had—her heart ached terribly, as if she and Jack had parted a moment ago, not three weeks earlier. As much to comfort herself as to check upon her daughter, Evelyn went up to the room Aimee shared with Bette. They were both soundly asleep. Jolie was in bed with her daughter.

Evelyn kissed her daughter’s cheek as Jolie wagged her tail. “Naughty dog,” she said softly, but she did not order it to leave the bed. Then she backed out of the room.

A small fire glowed in the hearth of the sitting room attached to her bedchamber. Every night a maid started it, and that night was no exception. Evelyn slipped inside, closed the door and leaning against it, stared at the dancing flames. She thought about Lucas, and she thought about Jack.

Then she realized she was being watched.

She stiffened, and slowly turned only her head, searching for the gaze that was upon her.

Most of the sitting room was in shadow. And in the far, dark corner, a man was seated in a chair.

He moved, lighting a taper on the table there.

Evelyn cried out, her heart slamming as the candle illuminated the corner and Jack stood up.

Evelyn looked at every inch of him—his burning gaze, his loose hair, his navy blue coat, his spotless lawn shirt, his dagger and pistol, his doeskin breeches, his polished Hessian boots. Her gaze flew back to his. “Jack!” He was whole, he was alive, he was there!

“Hello, Evelyn,” he said roughly.

She realized she was running to him. He started for her and she leaped into his arms.

They encircled her as their mouths fused. Evelyn returned his kiss ferociously, her hands in his hair as he lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, as they kissed with frightening hunger and alarming force. And Evelyn realized that he had missed her as strongly as she had missed him. He carried her across the room and into the bedchamber....

* * *

E
VELYN
LAY
IN
Jack’s arms, breathing hard, their legs entwined. Her cheek was against his chest, and she could hear the rapid and furious pounding of his heart. She wondered if it was possible that his heart beat faster than hers; she did not think so.

Their lovemaking had been stunning—frantic, furious, frenzied. But as coherent thought returned, tears arose. They had just made love, but they could not be together.

As he held her, his grip tightened. “How are you, Evelyn?”

She blinked back the tears, smiled and looked up at him. Only a fire burned in the bedchamber hearth, so the room was mostly in shadow. “Your sisters have been wonderful to me and to Aimee. Jack, I have missed you.”

He kissed her temple briefly, but hard. “I cannot stay.”

She trembled. She wanted him to declare his love and confess that he had missed her, too, and she wanted to discuss the terrible dilemma they were in. “Are you going to the island?”

His gray gaze moved over her face. “I do not want to lie to you, and I am not going to answer that,” he finally said.

She nodded, more tears rising. He was going to France. Maybe he was going to Quiberon Bay! “What about LeClerc?”

He released her, sitting up. He glanced around—their clothes were strewn about the room. “What about him?” He stood, his muscular body rippling, and reached for and stepped into his drawers.

Evelyn sat up, holding a sheet to her chest, aware of how instantaneously her desire arose again. “Have you given him the answers he seeks?”

His glance slammed to hers. “I cannot believe you would ask me such a question. Do you really want to know?”

“Neither Julianne or Paget think you a spy for the French, Jack.”

His face hardened, but his eyes moved to her fist, as she held the sheet to her chest. “They are loyal—they are my family.”

“I am afraid for you.”

He sat back down on the bed, taking her hand in his and kissing it. The sheet dropped to her waist. “I know. I do not want you worrying about me. I want you enjoying town.” He kissed her hand again. Evelyn closed her eyes, her heart thrumming, her body aching with a familiar vibrancy. He touched her chin and she opened her eyes, their gazes meeting. “I want you attending tea, dancing at balls…perhaps with D’Archand.”

She lifted an eyebrow.

“I have put you and Aimee in danger. He is taken with you…. Like Trev, he is a good man.” He was unsmiling and terribly serious.

“Were you spying on us tonight?”

“I could hardly invite myself to supper.”

Evelyn felt more tears well. Jack should have been at that table with them—and he should have been at her side. Instead, he was in hiding, an outlaw, with a bounty on his head. “I am not interested in D’Archand.”

“You should be,” he said roughly. But even as he said it, he seized her shoulder, pulling her close, claiming her mouth with his.

Evelyn wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back, kicking the sheets aside.

* * *

S
EVERAL
DAYS
HAD
passed, and Evelyn was curled up on a chaise, embroidery in her hand, carefully stitching the pillowcase she was making. The pattern was of red roses, and she meant to give it to Julianne, as a thank-you gift for all she had done. Julianne, meanwhile, was curled up on the sofa, engrossed in a political treatise on the rights of man. Amelia lay on the sofa, dozing. Her tiny hands were splayed on her large belly, and as she slept, she smiled. Evelyn thought she was dreaming of her unborn child.

The two women had become like sisters. If Evelyn did not miss Jack so much, she would be entirely enjoying her time in town.

But she did miss him. Jack had not even stayed the night. They had made love another time and then he had left, but not before asking her to keep his visit a secret. Being with him again had only rekindled the fierce nature of her love, and it had been so hard to act in an ordinary manner—when she wanted to tell his sisters how madly she was in love.

But they had not discussed the future. And Evelyn had been afraid to ask him if she would see him again.

For nothing had changed. He was a source of danger for her and her daughter, and apparently, she was a source of danger for him. They did not seem to have a future, yet that fact did not quiet her raging, insistent heart.

Gerard came to the open doors. Julianne did not notice, as she was so absorbed, but Amelia awoke, yawning, as he intoned, “Madam?”

Evelyn wondered at his odd expression—and then realized he was looking at her. “Gerard?” Evelyn responded.

“I am so sorry to interrupt, madam, but Captain Barrow is in the foyer, asking for you.”

Evelyn felt her heart slam. “The captain is here? Asking for me?” How her voice sounded like a squeak!

Julianne shoved her treatise aside. She turned to look at Evelyn sharply. “Wasn’t Barrow the captain who came to Roselynd—looking for Jack?”

Evelyn was alarmed. “Yes.”

“He is asking for Lady D’Orsay, madam,” Gerard said to Julianne. “Should I send him away?”

Amelia stood up, using the arms of the sofa to do so. The three women exchanged looks. “Did he say what he wants?” she asked briskly.

“He said he wishes to speak with the Countess D’Orsay.”

“Should we send him away?” Julianne asked low.

“I think we should find out what he wants,” Amelia said, already starting for the door.

Evelyn was filled with dread. She could not imagine what the captain wanted. Perhaps he was hunting Jack. Perhaps Jack had been remarked, either coming or going the other night. If Barrow had remained in Cornwall, it would take him about three days to get to town in response to such information. “Wait,” she said to both women.