Silver Deceptions

by Sabrina Jeffries

  The man has bewitched me.

  She touched her fingertips to her lips, which felt far too heated for a somber winter dawn. He had a sorcerer’s touch, that was certain.

  A sorcerer’s all-seeing eye as well. Unfortunately, he used the very intelligence and sensitivity she admired to see beneath her roles and discern all her deceptions. She shivered as she remembered his final words. What would he make of her drugged tea? Could he guess at her plans just from that?

  Suddenly, she heard the door from the hallway open, jolting her from her ruminations. Then Charity appeared in the doorway to the bedchamber, obviously distracted.

  As the woman passed the bed in a dreamy daze on her way to her own bed, Annabelle said, “Where have you been?”

  Charity jumped. “Faith, but you frightened the life out of me! What are you doing up so early when you don’t have to be at rehearsal today?”

  Annabelle noted Charity’s mussed hair, slightly askew clothing, and reddened lips. “What are you doing out so late?”

  A bright red blush spread over Charity’s cheeks. “I . . . I . . .” She got a stubborn look on her face. “I was with John.”

  “Sir John Riverton?” Annabelle clutched her pillow in her arms. “Oh, Charity, surely you didn’t let him—”

  “I did.” Her expression shifted, becoming soft and dreaming. “And I don’t regret it for a moment.”

  Annabelle sighed. Charity had always said she’d tasted respectability with her husband and now she sought to taste wickedness with a lover. They’d argued over it, with Annabelle trying to convince Charity that taking a lover, wealthy or not, would represent a disastrous fall into degradation. But Charity had continued to insist that once Annabelle experienced the joy of bedding a man, she’d not be so keen to leave it behind either.

  She doubted that. Charity’s description of how it was done made her wonder if it would be like so many other things in life—more fun for the man than for the woman. How could anyone find enjoyment in having something resembling a hefty sausage stuck up inside you? Yet Charity insisted it was pleasurable.

  Oh yes, Annabelle had known all along what Charity wanted. Still, the widow’s defection left Annabelle feeling bereft. “Is Sir John going to . . . to keep you now?”

  Charity dropped onto the bed with a sigh. “ ’Tis too soon for that. In truth, I was rather surprised that it happened at all.” She plucked at the folds of the counterpane. “He’s always flirted, but I never thought he was much taken with me until yesterday, after the play, when we started talking in one of the boxes. It got late, and he apologized for keeping me so long without my supper. Then he . . . he asked me to sup at his lodgings. So I went.”

  Annabelle groaned. Men were such sly creatures when it came to finding their pleasure. And Charity was so warm and open, she’d fallen right into the hands of a rake like Sir John.

  She could see why Charity found him attractive, with his masses of chestnut hair barely silvered by threads of gray. Though everyone knew he’d been in trade before he’d been knighted for service to the king, Charity would never care about that. Nor would she care about his limp, the result of a battlefield injury. She saw only his smiling brown eyes and ready wit. But he was an incurable rake.

  “I knew what I was about,” Charity said, laying her hand on Annabelle’s. “I promise I wasn’t forced.”

  “No, you were seduced.” As I nearly was myself last night. “He didn’t even have the decency to offer to keep you.”

  “Oh, but he did,” Charity protested, then clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “I thought you said . . .” When Charity stared down at their joined hands, Annabelle realized the truth. “You refused because of me.”

  “Now, now, dear heart, don’t be angry. It’s not the time for me to be setting up housekeeping elsewhere, and well you know it.” Charity flashed a sly smile. “Besides, I believe in letting a man stew. They say that a fellow loses interest once he breaches a woman’s defenses, but that’s not true. It’s feeling sure of her before he knows his own mind that makes him run. Sometimes a woman’s got to help him know his own mind before she lets him see her own.”

  Annabelle thought of Colin’s fierce assurance that he’d pursue her to the end. “I only wish Colin didn’t know his own mind quite so well,” she grumbled.

  “Colin? Faith, but I’d completely forgotten that Sir John said you were off with his lordship! What happened? I don’t see the man lying about. Did you put him to sleep?”

  Annabelle grimaced. “I tried to get him to drink the tea, but he sniffed out the sleeping potion and wouldn’t touch it.”

  Charity grew thoughtful. “Did he, now?”

  “Before he left, he even had the temerity to suggest that next time I use prickly lettuce.”

  “Did he, now?”

  “For heaven’s sake, stop repeating that! He did, he did! He insinuated himself in here, sniffed out my ruse in one evening, and nearly bedded me before I could stop him.”

  Charity’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, did he, now?”

  “Devil take you, Charity Woodfield! I don’t find this the least amusing!”

  Charity sobered. “Nearly bedded you?”

  “Aye,” Annabelle said, coloring slightly. “But not for want of trying.”

  “Hmph, if his lordship had wanted to force himself on you, you would have been bedded, and no doubt more than once.”

  Charity had a point. He’d stopped when she’d asked, even knowing that she’d tried to drug him. What man would do that? Certainly not Sir Charles or Lord Somerset or any of their ilk. Most rakes would have taken her against her will after such a deception.

  But he hadn’t. What’s more, she’d trusted him not to. It had only fleetingly occurred to her that he might harm her in his anger.

  She hugged her pillow to her chest. That was the worst of it—he’d already begun making her trust him, the sweet-tongued devil. Dear heaven, but the man truly did have a sorcerer’s powers!

  “So did he kiss you?” Charity asked.

  Heat rose in Annabelle at the memory of the many touches and kisses he’d given her mouth . . . her neck . . . her breasts. Her face flamed.

  A mischievous smile crossed Charity’s face. “I figured his lordship knew how to woo a woman.”

  “How to seduce a woman, you mean,” Annabelle said tartly.

  “Seducing’s part of wooing, if you ask me.”

  “No one asked you.”

  Charity laughed. “I see that ‘Colin’ is a mighty sore subject.” She caught her mistress’s scowl, and her smile faded. “So what d’ye intend to do?”

  Annabelle shook her head. “I don’t know. If he’s discovered the sleeping-potion ploy, he may eventually determine that I use it on other men as well. Once he knows that—”

  “ ’Tis of no consequence. Even if he guesses that, all it means is y’re afraid to bed men. It wouldn’t reveal yer deeper purpose.”

  The Maynards. She’d forgotten all he’d said about them. And how odd that he’d been able to tell her so much about so many of them.

  “Speaking of that, Colin told me something of the Maynards in London. One in particular would be the right age to be my father. But he’s an earl. That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Why not? If yer father was a captain during the war, he could have been a second son who inherited later.”

  “But he was a captain for the Roundheads, not the Royalists.”

  “There were noblemen who sided with Cromwell.”

  “I suppose.” She rested her chin on the pillow.

  “And if he’s a Puritan nobleman, he’ll be even more angry about his daughter strutting the stage. And you’ll have your vengeance, which is all you want.”

  “Yes.” Something occurred to her that hadn’t before. “Colin seems to knows an awful lot about the family, and in both of our encounters he made a point of mentioning them.” She felt a sudden sinking in the pit of her stomach. “What if he and my father are frie
nds? What if my father put Colin up to finding out about me?”

  The very thought that Colin might be manipulating her in such a manner nauseated her. She’d allowed him much closer than any other man.

  Charity pursed her lips. “Can’t see Lord Hampden being put up to anything by anybody, can you?”

  Annabelle tried to shake off her queasy feeling. “No, I suppose not.”

  “Even if his lordship does somehow determine who you are and tell yer father, it won’t change anything.”

  “It might. My father could go running off to the country or France to avoid being made a fool of.”

  Charity snorted. “If yer father is as lofty as you think, he ain’t going to care about some chit of an actress until you make him care. That sort is arrogant. And that’s how you’ll get him. Besides, I doubt that Lord Hampden will guess that you’re the man’s daughter unless you tell him.”

  “Still, it worries me.”

  “Actually,” Charity said, her eyes narrowing, “if he knows yer father, it gives you even more reason to let him pursue you. You might even tell him who y’re searching for. Just don’t tell him why until he leads you to the man.”

  Annabelle considered that possibility. “That might work if I can get Colin to sympathize with my quest.” She added, dryly, “And if he doesn’t ravish me before I find out what I need to know.”

  “Ravish you? Now you sound like the ladies you play on the stage. I doubt it would be so dramatic and awful as all that.”

  Perhaps not. But she wouldn’t risk losing her virtue or bearing a bastard for it. Besides, much as she wanted to believe she could keep Colin at arm’s distance while finding out what she needed to know, the sad truth was she couldn’t even keep the man at a finger’s distance. He had this uncanny ability to slip beneath her defenses.

  “All the same,” Annabelle said, “I think it best I avoid the man entirely. I should content myself with exploring the one name he’s given me and not attempt the harder task of trying to manage Colin’s passions.”

  A knock sounded at the door to the hall, making them both jump.

  “Are you expecting anyone?” Charity asked.

  “Do you think his lordship would return so soon?”

  With a shrug, Charity slid off the bed. “John says the man is taken with you. Who knows what a man captivated by a woman will do?”

  As Annabelle smiled at the absurd idea that Colin was captivated by her, Charity moved into the other room and opened the door. A low-voiced conversation followed. Then Charity returned with a boy prettily dressed in a rich burgundy and gold livery.

  “We have a visitor from the marquess,” Charity said with a grin.

  The boy showed no trace of surprise when he saw Annabelle in her smock. Given his master’s rakish reputation, he was probably used to women going about in their smocks. In truth, many actresses received guests in dishabille. Annabelle had become so accustomed to changing gowns before an audience in the tiring-room that she wasn’t the least bit modest anymore.

  Except with Colin.

  At Charity’s prodding, the footboy came to stand beside the bed. “My master sent this for you, madam.” He held out a package wrapped in gold cloth and tied with a burgundy velvet ribbon.

  A gift from Colin? Dear heaven, he’d taken her at her word last night when she’d said he must woo her with gifts. Shame washed over her.

  Then alarm. He would take her acceptance of the gift as a tacit approval of his pursuit. She might as well announce, “Come learn all my secrets.”

  With a sigh, she waved the boy’s hand away. “Return it to your master, and tell him I don’t want his gifts.”

  “But, mistress, you can’t mean that!” Charity exclaimed. “Why, you haven’t even seen what it is!”

  “I don’t care what it is. I do not wish to encourage Lord Hampden’s advances, and you know quite well why. Show the boy out, and give him a shilling for his efforts.”

  With a mutinous glance, Charity snatched the package and opened it.

  “Charity!” Annabelle protested, but the woman was already removing the contents.

  “God in Heaven! ’Tis a gold ring with diamonds and rubies!” Charity held it up to the light. “You can’t be wanting to return a gift like that!”

  The cut stones sparkled in the sun, sending a thrill of pleasure through Annabelle.

  “There’s a note here, too.” Charity opened it and read, “ ‘For the fire and ice of my lovely swan. May my paltry gift melt her heart.’ ” She clutched it to her chest with a dreamy sigh.

  Devil take Colin for knowing just how to soften her. No one had ever given her jewels before, and that alone was a temptation. But it was the sweetness of his note that tempted her to accept.

  She sighed. She couldn’t, not when she knew what it would mean. “Charity, give it back to the boy and let him return it,” she said before she could change her mind.

  “But, Annabelle—”

  “Give it to him and show him out!” she cried.

  A moment’s silence ensued. Then Charity complied, though with an ill grace. When Charity returned, she was scowling. “Faith, have you lost all good sense? Don’t you think this foolish stunt will draw his attentions more than taking it would have? His lordship loves a challenge, John tells me. ’Tis like beating a hornet’s nest to spurn his gift.”

  Annabelle rubbed her temples wearily. This game was sorely trying her wits. “Perhaps, but I dare not let him any closer.” She attempted a hopeful smile. “With any luck, my refusal will convince him I’m not worth the trouble.”

  Charity rolled her eyes. “Clearly you know naught about men.”

  “If Colin refuses to heed my clear message, I shall simply have Lord Somerset impress upon him that I’m not available.” She blinked. “That’s it! Charity, go tell Lord Somerset of Colin’s overtures. That will solve all my problems. Lord Somerset is a jealous man. He’ll warn Colin off.”

  “Are you mad?” Charity shook her head as she began to tidy the room. “That painted coxcomb will never defend you to his lordship.”

  Annabelle tipped up her chin. “Thank you for your opinion. I’ll keep it in mind while you’re at Lord Somerset’s.”

  Unperturbed, Charity picked up some discarded clothing. “I suppose it would be amusing to watch the popinjay crumble into cowardice.”

  “Don’t provoke him. I need him, even if he is a puppet of a man.”

  Charity eyed her askance. “I think y’re putting yer money on the wrong cock, but I’ll do what you say.”

  She was probably right. But Annabelle had to do something. She couldn’t just sit here and let Colin dig into her secrets. “Oh, and, Charity? Learn what you can about Edward Maynard, Earl of Walcester. Determine if he has a family, and find out where he was around the time of my conception.”

  Charity planted her hands on her hips. “How the devil am I to do that?”

  “Just speak with the man’s servants. Or perhaps ask Sir John.”

  “If I ask Sir John, he’ll tell Lord Hampden.”

  With a groan, Annabelle clutched her pillow to her chest. “True. Devil take the marquess, he’s been a nuisance from the moment I met him.”

  “And will no doubt be more of one before this business is finished,” Charity said dryly as she left.

  Annabelle sank back and prayed that Charity proved to be wrong.

  Chapter Six

  “It holds for good polity ever, to have that outwardly in vilest estimation, that inwardly is most dear to us.”

  —Ben Jonson, Every Man in His Humour, Act 2, Sc. 3

  Did you hear about Lovelace being appointed governor of the Province of New York, poor man?” Sir Charles asked Colin as they stood in Sir John’s drawing room drinking wine.

  Colin glanced at the door, irritated that Somerset hadn’t yet arrived. He and Sir Charles had skipped the play and come early to Sir John’s supper. Colin had hoped Sir John could convince Somerset to show up before the actresses.


  And Annabelle.

  “Why do you call him ‘poor man’?” Colin asked, keeping an eye on the door. “To be honest, I envy him.”

  “Egad, why?”

  Colin sighed. How could he explain the change in him since his return? He was tired of the games played among the nobility. Lasciviousness had become a currency. The actresses offered their bodies in exchange for a comfortable living, and the rakes seduced their friends’ wives to sate boredom. It all seemed so empty. Of late he found more satisfaction out of his experiments with the Royal Society.

  He could return to spying, but that began to prey on his conscience. Which was odd, because it never had before. Was it because of a certain interesting actress that he felt that way?

  No, the idea was absurd.

  “The colonies are filled with new flora and fauna to examine,” Colin explained, “new peoples and new cultures to study. I myself might find it interesting to add something to human knowledge by exploring that abundance of newness.”

  The moment he said the words, he was surprised to find that he meant them. The colonies weren’t something he’d much thought about, but he had to admit that retiring to Kent to run the estate his father had left him didn’t appeal to him. It had already been so competently run for years by his estate manager that he felt like a guest in his own home when he was there.

  Sir Charles shrugged. “I have enough trouble dealing with the new women who appear on the stage weekly to even think of traveling to a distant land. I should think you would, too, with your merry pursuit of the Silver Swan.”

  As Sir Charles spotted a friend and walked away, Colin scowled at the reminder of the annoying vixen who would soon arrive at Sir John’s. He might be tiring of London’s glittering society, but he couldn’t eliminate his interest in the ever-changeable Annabelle.

  The woman was driving him mad. In all his days of spying, he’d never met a female he couldn’t twist around his finger. Now here was this actress, paying him back fourfold for all his previous deceits.

  She’d had the gall to turn down a very costly gift after she’d just demanded one from him! Though probably she’d demanded the gift to divert his attention from the fact that she’d tried to drug him.