“Good morning, Evangeline,” the duke said. He walked to her, stood before her, silent for a moment, then nodded slowly. “A ride into Rye with Edmund, you say?”
“Yes, your grace,” she said, then looked quickly away. He saw so much, always, perhaps too much.
The duke was silent for a moment longer, then stepped back to lean against the mantelpiece. “Attend us a moment, Evangeline. Then certainly you and I and Edmund will do something doubtless quite exciting, beginning with breakfast. In fact, I think you should join us. I believe it only fair that you hear what we have done.”
“Richard, are you certain? She’s a lady, I don’t wish to alarm her.”
Evangeline ignored Drew and said, “What do you mean, your grace?” She sounded to her own ears as guileless as a nun. Hopefully the duke had the same hearing. She fluttered her hands. “Goodness, how mysterious you sound. I believe I shall sit down in case I begin to feel weak.”
The duke said nothing as Evangeline sat down. Drew Halsey looked from one to the other, shrugged, and walked over to the duke’s desk.
The duke looked down at his thumbnail, frowned because it was on the jagged side. Had he hurt her with that jagged nail? He shook his head at himself. He said, “I didn’t tell you sooner because I didn’t wish you upset further. When I received your letter about Mrs. Needle’s murder, I hired a Bow Street Runner to come back with me to Chesleigh to investigate while we were in London. He told me that before you and I went to London, he’d been by the cove and he’d seen strange goings-on down on the beach—a lantern light as a signal and bloody mysterious chaps rowing to the dock. He thought they were French. I spoke to Drew, and he believed it worthwhile to investigate the matter himself. How many evenings have your men spent hiding in the trees up on the cliff path, Drew?”
“It’s been nearly two weeks. I was with them last night. As I was telling you, Richard, your Bow Street Runner was quite right.”
Evangeline clapped a hand over her breast. She stared at him in absolute horror.
Drew shot the duke an harassed look, but the duke merely looked down at his thumbnail again. “Yes. Please continue, Drew.”
“Late last night we spotted two cloaked figures on the dock, meeting with a third man. When two of the men gained the cliff path, we confronted them. Unfortunately, they lost their heads and ran, and we were forced to shoot. I don’t know how the other man, the one who brought them in, escaped, but he did. I have no idea how he managed it. You know, Richard, how treacherous the cliffs are. By God, I’ve always believed them perfectly sheer. But somehow he must have scaled the rocks and gained the cliff top, all without our seeing him. It was very cold last night, with no moonlight. There were countless shadows the men saw, but none of them were the traitor.” “That’s horrible,” Evangeline said, her mittened hands still covering her breast. “Do you have proof that the men you killed were French?”
“Yes, Evangeline,” Drew said. “There was a packet on one of the dead men, some sort of coded instructions that we’ll break—I have no doubt about that. The traitor had scrawled his initials on the bottom right corner. Also, before he died, the man who carried the instructions whispered something in French. All I could make out was the words l’Aigle, and traitre. It seems likely that he thought the man who’d met them had betrayed them, but of course he hadn’t. There was also another letter in the man’s pocket, addressed to the Lynx, evidently the traitor’s contact in London. As I said, it’s written in some sort of code that we’ll break soon. It was signed L’Aigle or Eagle.” He continued toward the duke, “As you know, we went north of Chesleigh. Nothing, Richard. The man got away from us. It’s frustrating. We’ve got to catch him. I can’t imagine the damage he’s already done. I’ve had three men working to break that code since last night. It shouldn’t be long now.”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” the duke said. “The man has to be local. He must be. And the damned bastard has been using my property to bring in spies. I’ll kill the fellow when I get my hands on him.”
“If you find him before I do, please don’t kill him. We need information from him. Then we’ll hang him and save you the trouble of dirtying your hands. I know it angers you that the French have been using Chesleigh as an entry point into England. As we thought, Richard, Mrs. Needle’s murder must somehow be connected. She must have discovered something. You know that she still moved about the county at will, despite her advanced years, so the chances of her overhearing something or seeing something makes sense. I would like your permission to question your servants. I don’t hold out much hope, but perhaps someone saw something last night.”
The duke nodded, saying nothing. He looked at Evangeline.
“Is there anything you can tell Drew? Did you see anything last night? Perhaps you were awake and at your window around midnight?”
“It was very cold last night. I never left my bed. Goodness, this all seems so fantastic.”
To Evangeline’s immense relief, Drew Halsey finally prepared to leave. He said as he rose, “My men won’t hold your servants long. I’ll keep you informed. It is doubtful that the Eagle will again use your beach, but I will, of course, have several of my men continue to watch.”
Evangeline rose as well. “I hope you find the man, my lord. I vow I won’t sleep tonight. If you gentlemen don’t mind, I shall see to Edmund now.”
Evangeline gave both men a brilliant smile and left the library. The duke looked after her, saying nothing.
“I’ll be at the Raven Inn today, Richard, but I must leave for London this evening. My latest intelligence is that Napoleon will start for Belgium within the next few days. Wellington is waiting for him. Hopefully, I’ll take the decoded instruction with me to London to the ministry.”
“I wonder if this group of spies had anything to do with Robbie’s death?” the duke said. “After all, he was my friend, he spent time here at Chesleigh, and the men were using Chesleigh as their entry point.”
“I’m certain as I can be now that it was. Imagine, the bastards used your private beach. That’s an incredible show of gall, if nothing else.”
And the duke said, his voice cool, “Actually, the idea is beginning to seem less fantastic.”
The duke gave Bassick instructions, nodded briefly toward the two men Lord Pettigrew had left behind, and headed for the nursery. He didn’t find her there. He entered her bedchamber, saw that the room was empty, and turned, only to stop at the door.
Ten minutes later he found her in a small, sunny parlor on the second floor. She was standing near the window, looking out over the Channel, her back to him. He closed the door firmly behind him and leaned against it. She didn’t turn, but he knew she was fully aware of him.
“Your performance was exquisite,” he said easily. “Drew was either admiring your beauty or cursing your frivolous woman’s prattle. Naturally, you were there to avert suspicion if anyone could possibly suspect you and to learn what we knew and what was being done. As I said, you did very well indeed. The only thing, Evangeline, did you honestly believe you could fool me?”
She closed her eyes at those smoothly spoken words. She shook her head, not turning. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, your grace. Surely any lady would be horrified at what’s been happening.” She managed a shudder. “A traitor here, at Chesleigh.”
He didn’t move, just said in that same easy voice, only it was deeper now, the calm more deadly, “Yes, let’s talk about traitors here at Chesleigh. Let me be quite specific. Shall I call you Evangeline or by your traitor’s name—the Eagle?”
She turned slowly to face him. It was over, but she knew she had to try. She said with desperate calm, “You’re weaving a fantasy, your grace. Look at me. How could I possibly be a man?”
“Yes, I believe I’ll look at you even more closely.” He walked to her, his eyes never leaving her face. “How odd it is that you’re wearing mittens. I’ve never seen you wear mittens.”
He grabbed her hands
in his and jerked them off. “I hope you didn’t suffer these unfeminine scratches from our lovemaking?” He shook his head. “No, don’t bother to lie to me, Evangeline, unless you would also care to explain the damp and torn clothes I found stuffed beneath your armoire. Damn you, Evangeline, you will tell me the truth.”
His face was taut with fury. She managed to wrench her hands away. He knew, and there was no hope for it. But what about her father? What about Edmund? “Very well,” she said finally. “It’s true.” “You’re this damned Eagle?” “Yes.”
He didn’t trust himself to touch her, because if he did, he didn’t know what he’d do. “I’ve never thought of myself as being particularly blind to others’ faults before. You certainly played me for a perfect fool, though. An indigent relation, a beautiful woman who needed my help. A beautiful woman who looked at me as if she wanted to tear my clothes off and seduce me. And you did seduce me, didn’t you? You think that will make any difference at all now that I know what you are? God, you’re a damned liar, a cheat, and a traitor.”
She looked at his hands, fisted at his sides. “I did only what I had to do.”
“And I played my role admirably, didn’t I? Tell me, what decided you to come to my bed? Did you think I might find something out unless you distracted me further? Did you really believe that I’d be less likely to give you over to the hangman just because I took your damned virginity?”
“I had no choice,” she said. “Enough, your grace. You must let me explain.”
He laughed at her. “Why not? I’m certain you’ve worked on your explanations a good long while. After all, you’ve been playing a very dangerous game. Naturally, you’d have to come up with good excuses to lay out when you were finally caught.”
It was then that he couldn’t help himself. He grabbed her and began shaking her. She opened her mouth, then blinked at him. “No,” she whispered. “Oh, no, this can’t happen,” and then she slumped, unconscious, against him.
Chapter 37
He caught her in his arms, feeling both frustrated and afraid. Damn her. He wouldn’t yell at her now, couldn’t confront her further, because she’d had the gall to faint. He carried her to his bedchamber, past a gaping maid and two frozen footmen, and laid her on his bed, jerking loose the high muslin collar about her throat. Several angry scratches slashed downward to her shoulder. He cursed as he quickly stripped off her clothing, furious with her, wishing he could strangle her, for she could be seriously hurt. He gazed down at the ugly, mottled bruising over her ribs, on her legs, and on her shoulders, at the many scratches and cuts, and drew a deep, steadying breath. It struck him with blinding force that she could easily have been killed. She’d managed to climb up that bloody cliff, by herself, in the dark, terrified. Oh, God, he didn’t think he could bear it. He pulled the covers to her neck.
Evangeline slowly opened her eyes to see the duke staring down at her. “Damn you,” he said.
“I fainted,” she said, astonished. “I’ve never fainted in my life. You took off my clothes. I’m a mess, but it’s nothing serious. My ribs aren’t broken, but it was a close thing for a while last night.”
He closed his eyes against her words because he himself had been out there searching. He knew the sheerness of that cliff, knew how she’d had to swim against that icy incoming tide even to gain the beach that gave onto the cliff. Then he looked down at her, murder in his eyes, and said, “I’m glad you didn’t kill yourself last night. Now I can kill you.”
“I will be punished, never fear. But you must let me escape. You must. You can’t be the one to hang me.” “So you’d disappear from me just as suddenly as you arrived? No, Evangeline, I’m not about to let you out of my sight.” He pulled back the covers and looked at her. “You are really quite good, do you know that? You have my compliments. And to have you a virgin, despite all your blatant interest in me—why, it wasn’t at all necessary. I was expecting a woman with a bit of skill, but no, you’d saved your maidenhead for me. To think, I, the duke of Portsmouth, a man who wants to see Napoleon in a very deep grave, a man who hates all who want to bring down England, that proud fool was brought low by a woman, and it wasn’t all that difficult for you to do. There’s sure to be something edifying in all this, but I doubt I’ll see it for a long time to come.” He jerked the covers down to her ankles. She made no move to cover herself; she had no more fight. He laid his hand on her belly. “The only part of you that isn’t scraped or cut or scratched.”
She tried to jerk away from him, but he held her down.
“Cover me,” she said. “I can’t fight you.” “You would be a fool to fight me now. I’ll cover you soon enough. First I’m going to make sure that you’ve done yourself no lasting injury.” He changed from the man who’d been her lover, from the man who’d spewed his anger at her, to a man who simply didn’t care. She turned her head away and closed her eyes. She felt his fingers lightly probing her ribs.
“You were right. Your ribs aren’t broken. You should count yourself very lucky. No, don’t move. Otherwise, you’re a mess, but there isn’t anything serious. Hold still. I’m going to put some of Mrs. Needle’s healing ointment on you.”
She lay there naked, wondering what would happen to her, to her father, to Edmund. When he came back to the bed, his face was set, his hands were steady. He said only, “Hold still.”
She felt his fingers lightly massaging an ointment into the worst of the scratches. He realized that his hands were shaking. He stared down at her averted face.
As if she sensed that he was looking at her, she slowly turned her eyes to his face. There was a bitter, helpless smile on her mouth. “I never wanted to hurt you, never. Now it’s too late. You must protect yourself, you must protect Edmund.”
“You can spill your innards to me in a moment. Right now, just keep your pleas to yourself.” He turned her onto her stomach. There were scratches and bruises on her back and hips, the backs of her legs. He cursed. She didn’t move as he rubbed in ointment, lightly touched his fingers to the bruises. She heard his heavy breathing.
He was seeing her struggling back to Chesleigh, her life in the balance. Unwillingly, he found himself marveling at her force of will. If Drew had somehow come to suspect her, her performance would have convinced him of her innocence. Drew doubtless believed her a foolish, quite frivolous woman.
“There,” he said finally, helping her onto her back again and pulling up the covers. “It’s done.”
He drew a chair to her bedside and sat down, formed his fingers in a steeple, and tapped them thoughtfully together.
He said in a very controlled voice, “Certain things are now quite clear to me, Mademoiselle. Your unexpected arrival at Chesleigh, your indigent status, and your unremitting insistence on remaining at Chesleigh. Even your claimed widowhood. Had you arrived as a supposed innocent young lady, the proprieties would have demanded that I provide at the very least a chaperone—that, or you couldn’t have remained.” He paused for a moment, recalling Evangeline’s grief at the death of the old woman. He frowned. “I’m certain that you were innocent of Mrs. Needle’s murder. Indeed, it very nearly destroyed you. But you know who killed her, don’t you, Evangeline? If I hadn’t taken matters into my own hands, if I hadn’t brought a Bow Street Runner, why, you would still be bringing in spies.” “Yes,” she said.
He suddenly remembered her insistence upon visiting Drew at the Ministry. “Ah, another little something. Your visit to the Ministry. That wasn’t a lady’s frivolous request, was it?”
“No, I was ordered to leave an envelope in Lord Pettigrew’s office, in one of the books on the second shelf. I don’t know what was in the envelope.”
“I believe it’s time for you to tell me everything, Evangeline.” He saw such pain in her eyes that he nearly stopped. But he had to know. He had to know every damned thing she’d done and why. Still, she said nothing. He said, “I see. You would have me believe that you’re nothing more than a devious traitor who has, in t
he most calculating manner, deceived me and my entire family.”
“No,” she said, her voice cold and dull. “It wasn’t like that. Please, your grace, I had no choice at all about anything.”
“Tell me. No more dancing around it. Trust me, Evangeline. Tell me why you did it.”
“My father isn’t dead. He’s being held prisoner by a man named Houchard in Paris.”
She told him in a halting voice of the night the two men had broken into their home, of the journey to Paris, her meeting with Houchard. “He knew all about my family and yours. You were to be my dupe, my cat’s paw; else he would have my father killed as a traitor. Only the Lynx would know the truth.” “Who is the Lynx?” “John Edgerton is the Lynx.” He started forward in his chair. “The devil, you say.”
“That’s what I think he is. He or one of his men murdered poor Mrs. Needle. That first night I met him, I knew I couldn’t succeed at this. I told him there was already someone who thought something was wrong. I mentioned her name to him. Oh, God, he killed her. I think it was more a lesson to me than to silence anything that she might have said. He wanted me to know that if I told you, asked for your help, there would be consequences that I wouldn’t be able to bear.” She drew a breath, remembering. “I had made up my mind to tell you. Edgerton must have guessed I was wavering. He told me that if I ever let anything out to you, he personally would kill Edmund. I never said a word then. I never would, except now this has happened.” She swung her legs out of bed, grabbing the covers to keep herself covered. “Listen to me, your grace. You must get Edgerton now or Edmund is in danger.”
“You would have confessed all to me but for his threat against Edmund?”
“Yes. Believe me, Edgerton isn’t mad. He’s simply willing to do anything, even murder a child and an old woman, to gain what he wants, and that is Napoleon’s success.”