Silver Deceptions

by Sabrina Jeffries

  “I suppose it wouldn’t do to have your aspirations damaged by having an actress for a daughter,” Colin said acidly.

  “You may not have an interest in politics,” the earl snapped, “but some of us care what happens to England.”

  Colin stifled a snort. Walcester’s aspirations had nothing to do with any love for his country. Like many men who had lived through the uncertainty of the war and Cromwell’s machinations, the earl had seized his chance in a time of tumult to better his own prospects. The king had so admired Walcester’s work with the Royal Society that he’d appointed the earl to high office. And with Edward Hyde, the Earl of Clarendon, fled in disgrace, the man had a chance to be quite powerful.

  But even Colin knew how easily the earl’s applecart could be upset. For one thing, the younger nobles like Rochester and Sir Charles disliked him for his sober mien and harsh rebukes. For another, the Duke of Buckingham, once Walcester’s close ally, had noted his rise and become his worst enemy. The duke would delight in drumming him out of the court as he had Clarendon.

  “So what does the chit want from me?” Walcester bit out. “Money?”

  “She doesn’t know who you are, doesn’t even know that you have money. She came to London to search for you because she wants to know who her father is.”

  Walcester’s cold laugh chilled Colin. “Of course. That’s why she’s using my code name from the war. It has nothing to do with blackmail at all.”

  The comment brought Colin up short. The earl had a point. And why had Annabelle kept that coded message hidden? If her mother had passed it down to her, then the woman must have been part of the earl’s spying. But Walcester hadn’t yet mentioned such a thing.

  Which only heightened Colin’s suspicions that there was something more to the earl’s concerns than he was saying. “How could Annabelle blackmail you if you were spying for the king?”

  Walcester stiffened so imperceptibly that anyone but Colin would have missed it. “I am just pointing out that she has no reason for using it otherwise.”

  Which wasn’t an answer. “Perhaps her mother told it to her. She came here to seek you. How better to draw you out than with your code name?”

  “Her mother didn’t know it,” Walcester said, a shade too quickly.

  Something was wrong here. Obviously Annabelle’s mother had known it, unless the woman had stumbled upon the coded message by accident after Walcester left Norwood. But what spy left such clues lying about?

  ’Sdeath, between Annabelle and the earl, Colin had to sort a veritable tangle of lies from the truth. At the moment, he hesitated to mention the coded message to either Walcester or Annabelle. If the earl was lying about the code name, what else might the man be hiding?

  “What do you wish me to do now?” Colin asked, although he was already hatching his own plans.

  “I’ll have to think on it. But if you have any loyalty to me, you’ll keep my secret until I decide.”

  “You mean, keep it from Annabelle.” Colin bit back an oath. He owed Walcester his life, but at the moment that indebtedness hung about Colin’s neck like a lead weight. “What will you do in the meantime?”

  “Perhaps I’ll take a look at the actress myself.”

  “That might be a good idea, although if you plan to speak with her, I would advise against railing at her for being a ‘whoring daughter.’ ”

  Walcester drew himself up stiffly. “I don’t mean to speak to her.”

  “That’s wise.” As much as he resented Annabelle’s deceiving him, he hated to think of her being exposed to her father’s vitriolic temper. “She’s asked me to seek you out for her. What shall I tell her to put her off?”

  A startled expression crossed Walcester’s face. “You’ve gotten quite close to her, then.”

  “That’s what you wanted,” he pointed out.

  “True.” The earl rubbed his chin. “Did she mention anything about the Silver Swan? Had she no reason for wearing a swan brooch?”

  The man was downright obsessed with Annabelle’s knowledge of his code name, even now that he seemed to believe she was his daughter. “No. She claimed ‘The Silver Swan’ was nothing more than her nickname.”

  “She’s lying. You must find out what else she knows.”

  Colin agreed, but he was beginning to think he must also find out what the earl was hiding. “I’ll do what I can.”

  But he’d do it outside of London. Oh yes. He’d dealt with his duplicitous mistress and equally duplicitous friend long enough. He was tired of hunting between their words for the fragments of truth they chose to feed him.

  It was time to change tack entirely. It was time to travel to Norwood.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Is this her fault or mine?

  The Tempter or the Tempted, who sins most?”

  —William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure, Act 2, Sc. 2

  Light streamed in through the window when Annabelle opened her eyes. She shut them with a groan. Her head pounded like a pestle in a mortar and her lips felt cracked and dry. Then she shifted onto her side, and the stickiness between her legs made her eyes fly open again.

  Dear heaven, Colin had lain with her. She hadn’t dreamed it.

  Soft caresses, masterful kisses . . . he’d been magnificent. Every time his deft hands had kneaded her breasts or his mouth had teased her private places, she’d thought he was driving her mad. And at the end, with his body around and over and inside her, all thunder and storm and wild male heat . . .

  She sighed. Charity was right. Being bedded was wonderful, especially when the man doing it had the looks of Adonis, the grace of a tiger, and the touch of a sorcerer.

  And speaking of Colin, where was he? She sat up to look about her. Her clothes lay scattered on the floor, but his were gone. Then she spotted something on top of her bureau that glittered in the sunlight. She slid from the bed, donned her smock, then wandered over to find the ring Colin had tried to give her lying there, its diamonds and rubies winking like a dozen small lights.

  Pinned beneath it was a note. Gone to fetch us breakfast. I’ll return soon.

  With a catch in her throat, she picked up the heavily jeweled band. There was no going back now, was there? Colin had bedded her. He would expect things to change between them.

  Perhaps that was good. An alliance with Colin could give her much, and not just money, either. She’d no longer have to fight off the gallants. She’d have an ally in her search for her father.

  She’d have to give up her plan for vengeance.

  A groan escaped her. Her plan required that she make a spectacle of herself by confronting her father publicly, and that would surely cause Colin pain. How could she do that to him? He’d already been generous and kind to her even when she’d been cruel to him. If it hadn’t been for his help yesterday . . .

  She shuddered. Still, he wanted something in exchange—her heart, her trust, her very soul. And her loyalty. He wanted her to be his mistress. But if she did, she’d be no better than the other actresses who sold their favors to a protector. Worse yet, she’d give up her independence and any prospects for the future.

  Only in London. She could still go to the country, still do as Charity said and play a widow. Find a husband. Begin a new life.

  She sighed. And once more she’d be playing a role. She was so very tired of playing roles.

  Yet she couldn’t say she regretted last night. And the idea of being Colin’s mistress intoxicated her. He at least seemed to see through to the real her. She could easily imagine being a different sort of companion to him than her mother had been to her stepfather—a woman who shared her lover’s life totally, who feared him not.

  She bit back a sob. Nay, she didn’t simply want to be Colin’s lover. She wanted to be his wife, the one to whom he confided his dreams, his hopes, his cares. And what chance was there of that? Even a gentleman born on the wrong side of the blanket didn’t offer marriage to an actress of dubious origins when he had a title. She
mustn’t harbor dreams of more.

  Besides, she reminded herself sternly, could she truly want to be his wife when he still held so many secrets from her? Or was this simply the silly dreaming of a woman who’d been bedded for the first time?

  After all, nothing had changed since last night except her virginal state. Colin was no more to be trusted than before, even if he had agreed to help her find her father. That thought made her glance at her bedside table in alarm, but the signet ring still sat there from the night before. Thank heaven.

  Still, she didn’t know how closely entangled Colin might be with the Maynards, nor why he kept mentioning the surname to her, like a hunter laying bait, nor why he seemed so inquisitive about her past. Why did he keep pressing her about the Silver Swan? Why would he care unless he knew something about it? She didn’t want to believe he’d been pretending to desire her only to get information from her, but she couldn’t ignore the possibility.

  Suddenly she heard the door in the other room open, and before she could prepare herself, Colin sauntered in. He stopped short when he saw her sitting beside the bureau. Did she imagine it, or was his gaze less warm than before?

  He flashed her a thin smile. “I see you’ve awakened at last.”

  “Yes.” A sudden shyness overwhelmed her. So much had passed between them last night, yet she felt as if he were still a stranger to her.

  It didn’t help that he was fully dressed and looking splendid in his noble finery. Self-consciously, she glanced down at the rumpled muslin of her smock, wishing she’d had time to dress before his return.

  “I’ve brought some bread and cheese. Are you hungry?”

  “Yes.” But she didn’t move from the chair by her bureau, continuing instead to toy with the ring in her hand.

  He stepped closer. “I see you’ve found my gift. Are you contemplating returning it once more?”

  At the harshness of his words, she glanced up. He stood in an attitude of defiance, legs splayed and thumbs tucked into his sash, daring her to toss his gift back to him and prove once more that she had no heart.

  It tore at her. “What does it mean?”

  A dry laugh escaped him. “Whatever you want it to mean.”

  He sounded flippant, but she could see the vulnerability in his eyes. “I’m not trying to insult you, Colin. ’Tis quite lovely. Any woman would be happy to wear it on her finger.”

  “But not to take the strings attached to it. Is that it?”

  She winced. “I—I never intended to be any man’s mistress.”

  With a muttered curse, he took the ring from her and placed it on the ring finger of her right hand. Then, closing his hand around hers, he placed a cool kiss on her forehead. “ ’Tis a gift, Annabelle, that’s all. A sign of my . . . my affection, if you will. Perhaps it will remind you of me while I’m gone.”

  Her head shot up. “Gone?”

  He glanced away. “Aye. I’ve been called to my estate in Kent. It seems there’s some trouble with the steward that needs my management. I leave today.”

  She noticed that he didn’t mention having her accompany him. Then again, why should he? She had her work at the theater, and it wasn’t as if he’d made any promises to her.

  That thought sent her emotions churning once more. “When . . . will you return?” she choked out.

  His expression softening, he cupped her cheek. “I can’t say, but I won’t be gone long, I suspect.”

  Though her pulse quickened at his feathery caress, she forced herself to remain detached, unconcerned, as if he’d just told her he’d be going out for a midnight jaunt. “It shall be dull here without you.”

  “It will be more dull for me in Kent, I assure you.” His voice sounded strained as he stroked his thumb over her cheekbone.

  Abruptly, he dropped his hand. “I’ve taken steps to see that you’re protected while I’m gone.”

  She blinked. “From whom?”

  “His Majesty, of course. I’ve arranged for you to stay with an old friend. The king will stay clear of you as long as you are at her lodgings.”

  “ ‘Her’?”

  “Aphra Behn. She’s a widow who did some spying for the king in Antwerp.” A wry smile twisted his lips. “Unfortunately, the king had no monies to pay her, so she had to borrow some to return to England. Since then she’s been petitioning the king for what he owes her, but Charles, of course, can’t spare her a pound.”

  He laughed bitterly. “It has made for a very uncomfortable situation between them. The king won’t go near you as long as you appear to be Mrs. Behn’s intimate friend and houseguest. He’ll fear that if he beds you, you’ll pressure him to pay Mrs. Behn. So you’ll be quite safe with her.”

  She wanted to ask him so many more questions, but any of them would make her sound jealous, and her pride wouldn’t allow him to see that. “I’d rather stay here. Isn’t there another way to make His Majesty lose interest in me?”

  His dark gaze unnerved her. “Not unless you leave the theater entirely and go into hiding. I didn’t think you’d want to do that. Of course, if you’d rather, I could send you to my town house—”

  “No,” she put in quickly, though she was confused. Why would he send her to his town house, but not take her with him to Kent?

  Well, he was right to go without her. She couldn’t go with him and leave the theater. She mustn’t lose her place in the duke’s company, not with her vengeance still unaccomplished and her future uncertain.

  His tone softened. “You’ll like the young and carefree Mrs. Behn, I assure you. She’s a witty, outspoken woman who will take your mind off your troubles.”

  Young and witty, exactly the sort of woman Colin was attracted to. Was Annabelle to spend the next few days or weeks with a former mistress of Colin’s, one he’d now relegated to the status of “friend”?

  Don’t do this to yourself. You’re behaving like a jealous wife. You don’t know anything about this woman.

  Besides, no matter what this Mrs. Behn had once been to Colin, Annabelle had willingly entered his world of rakes and free living. Now she must accustom herself to its rules, distasteful though they might be.

  “I suppose this means I must delay my search for my father.”

  “For a short time,” he said blandly. “Don’t worry, we’ll find your father. I promise you that.”

  He sounded so sure. She stared at him a long moment, wondering what devious plans he was concocting in his head.

  Then she sighed and dropped her gaze. “When do I meet Mrs. Behn?”

  She hadn’t realized he was so tense until her words made him visibly relax. He held out his hand to her. “After you’ve eaten and you’re dressed and ready. Charity should be here any moment, for I sent word to Sir John’s. I must go make arrangements for my trip, but I’ll return to accompany you to Mrs. Behn’s.”

  Taking his hand, she stood. She winced as her headache attacked once more, forcing her to sway unsteadily.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, placing a hand under her elbow to steady her.

  No, I’m not all right, she wanted to scream. You’ve turned all my plans topsy-turvy and I don’t know how to right them.

  But she merely nodded. “I have a headache, but it will pass, I’m sure. That medicine you gave me last night has apparently had its own effects.”

  Guilt shone briefly in his face. “Are you well enough to go to Mrs. Behn’s today? I suppose I could delay my trip.”

  “I’m fine,” she said firmly. She needed him to leave, to give her the chance to think. When he was around, she couldn’t make a single logical decision without being influenced by him.

  “You don’t look fine.” His voice had an edge to it. “Sometimes I think you’re not being completely honest with me.”

  Her gaze locked with his. How was it that he always peeled back the layers of her many roles to penetrate beneath the costumes and the pretense into her very soul? For a second, she wanted to spill out the entire sordid tale, to tell
him of her mother’s hanging and of her quest for revenge.

  Then she reminded herself that he hadn’t told her everything either. There were secrets he kept from her still—she felt certain of it. What’s more, at the moment, he had the upper hand. He knew the Maynards of London. She did not. If she told him everything, then she might as well give up her vengeance. And she simply wasn’t ready to do that.

  “I’m as honest with you as you are with me.”

  His eyes widened. Then a cynical smile curved his lips. “That you are, Annabelle.”

  He dropped his hand from her elbow with an abruptness that sent worry stealing up around her heart like vines choking a tree. She should never have hinted that she’d been less than honest with him. Then again, she hadn’t expected him to be so remote and brusque after last night’s kisses and caresses. It made her want to rouse some emotion in him, even if it was anger.

  “I’ll leave you to pack your belongings.” His spare, indifferent words continued to dash her expectations. “Try not to take more than you need. Mrs. Behn’s lodgings aren’t large.” With that, he strode toward the door.

  “Colin?” she called out, wanting something more from him, some soft word or act that would show her how he felt after last night.

  He faced her. “Yes?”

  There was no softness in the chiseled planes of his face. He didn’t even seem like the same man who’d made love to her with a sweet tenderness and passionate hunger bordering on obsession, the same man who’d made her promise there’d be no other gallants in her life.

  “Nothing,” she said tightly. “I’ll be ready when you return.”

  He hesitated, his eyes searching her face. Then he nodded curtly and walked out, leaving her wondering how she’d ever soothe her bruised heart.

  ANNABELLE KEPT SILENT and tried to hide her increasing nervousness as Colin’s carriage inched along crowded, stinking Grub Street. Colin sat across from her, staring out at the jostling crowds, and she watched him with a growing despair in her heart. She wished Charity were there to break the tension, but they’d agreed that Charity should remain at Annabelle’s lodgings while Annabelle was temporarily ensconced at Aphra Behn’s house.