Silver Deceptions

by Sabrina Jeffries

  He didn’t know whether to feel relieved that the king hadn’t touched her or horrified that she’d told the king stories about him and Walcester. Hell and furies, had she been that angry?

  “Perhaps you should start at the beginning,” he said through a throat thick with pain. “Tell me everything.”

  It took him several minutes to get the entire story out of her coherently, but when at last he understood what had happened, he realized she’d not tried to implicate him in treason. What she’d done was certainly serious and would no doubt have dire repercussions for Walcester, but Colin himself was not in any real danger. And it was his safety she seemed most concerned about.

  On that, he could reassure her. “Don’t worry about me, my love. If indeed His Majesty believes Rochester, he’ll simply have me questioned and then dismiss the matter. Rochester isn’t out for blood; he just wants to repay me for humiliating him. I can handle whatever he throws at me.”

  “Don’t you see? It’s bigger than that now,” she whispered. “If they prove that my father was a traitor, then you’ll be seen as one too!”

  “Your father wasn’t a traitor,” he stated. “I can assure them of that. In fact, he was something of a hero if they can be made to realize it.”

  Fear crossed her face. “What do you mean?”

  He didn’t want to increase her guilt, but she would learn the truth eventually. Quickly he related all her father had told him. The longer he talked, the paler she grew.

  “Dear heaven, what have I done?” she whispered.

  “When they question Walcester, he’ll explain everything, and when I add my testimony—”

  “You don’t understand!” she broke in. “Buckingham will do anything to destroy my father. The duke will never let them hear the truth.”

  She seemed so sure that it worried him. He forced a lightness into his tone. “Nonsense. Buckingham’s a fair man. I’ll admit I’ve been away from court for some time and I’m not as familiar with the political alliances among the nobles, but Buckingham was always Walcester’s ally. Surely he’ll champion your father.”

  She shook her head. “Buckingham accompanied me out of Whitehall. He warned me against showing you the poem. Of course, he didn’t know that you already knew of it, and I certainly didn’t tell him.”

  “What did you say?”

  After she recounted the conversation in a few terse words, a terrible sadness stole over him. Damn Buckingham. The duke was powerful enough to ensure her father was punished. Certainly Walcester would never finish his years in England. Most likely he’d be exiled like Clarendon, his dreams of political power ended forever.

  She stared into the fire. “So you see, my father will be destroyed no matter what you or I say. Buckingham may not care about ruining you, but he is certainly determined to ruin my father.”

  He couldn’t resist saying, “That should make you happy.”

  Shame flooded her face. “Nay. Though I had some dream of making him regret what he did to my mother, I never wanted to see him exiled or imprisoned or . . .”

  She trailed off, but he knew what she didn’t dare to voice. She’d already seen one parent hanged. She didn’t wish to see another suffer the same fate.

  Her woeful expression roused every protective instinct within him. “Listen to me, dearling—”

  “Don’t call me that!” she burst out, half in tears. “I don’t deserve it. I’ve ruined your life and betrayed my own father to a pack of hounds eager for his blood. Don’t pretend you feel anything but contempt for me now!”

  He strode up to clasp her face in his hands. “I feel a great many emotions at the moment, but contempt isn’t one of them. Yes, I’m stunned by all you’ve told me, but I know you felt it was your duty.”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  He wiped them away with his thumbs, wishing he could wipe away her pain, too. “And I’m hurt that you didn’t feel you could trust me with the problem, but I do understand. If I’d been more truthful with you, this would never have happened.”

  Her gaze shot to his, the yearning in them so palpable he felt his heart twist in response.

  “But mostly I’m sick with fear that you won’t believe me when I say I love you. Because I do, no matter what you’ve done, no matter what happens.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “The quality of mercy is not strained,

  It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

  Upon the place beneath: it is twice blessed;

  It blesseth him that gives and him that takes . . .”

  —William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice, Act 4, Sc. 1

  Annabelle could hardly believe Colin. “I’ve ruined your life. And the life of your friend, my father.”

  A sardonic look crossed his face. “Walcester can take care of himself, dearling.” His eyes softened. “As for me, the only thing you’ve done is make it impossible for me to live without you. From the moment I first saw you onstage, I knew I had to have you for myself, regardless of what Walcester wanted.” He let out a shuddering breath. “I haven’t lost you, have I? Can you forgive me for spying on you, for not telling you about my friendship with your father?”

  When she lowered her gaze in confusion, reminded yet again of how he’d deceived her, he added hastily, “It wasn’t as bad as it looks. Even as I arranged our first meeting, I didn’t just have Walcester in mind. I did as he wished only because I found you so intriguing. But after I began to pursue you, I went to him once and that was just to discover what he was hiding.”

  Once. But what had he said? “Did you tell him about . . . what we did?”

  It seemed to take him a second to figure out what she was talking about. Then he clutched her to him. “Hell and furies, of course not! What kind of man do you take me for? I told him about the ring, and I asked him if you were his daughter. That’s when I found out you were from Norwood, for he remembered your mother.”

  “When was this?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.

  He remained silent a moment, then sighed. “After we made love the first time, while you were asleep.”

  Sorting through her memories, she winced. “That physic you gave me was a sleeping draught, wasn’t it?”

  “Aye. While you slept, I searched your room and found the key to your box. I read the poem and then I went to Walcester. But I didn’t tell him about it then, because I wasn’t sure whom to believe or trust.”

  “That’s when you decided to go to Norwood.”

  He nodded, a strange expression of despair on his face. Did he really care so much? Then another realization hit her. “That’s why you were so cold to me that morning. Why you acted so strangely when you left me at Aphra’s.”

  “Aye. I knew you were lying to me about the Silver Swan, and I feared you had some dire purpose in mind.”

  She tried to back away, but he held her tight. Though it still hurt to think of him distrusting her, she’d never completely trusted him either.

  “I’ve told you everything now,” he murmured, nuzzling her hair, “every way I’ve kept the truth from you. And I believe you’ve told me everything as well. So tell me: Am I to lose you because I couldn’t trust?”

  She shook her head.

  “I love you,” he murmured. “You’ve said you love me. Can’t we go on from there and make a new beginning?”

  “So many secrets, so many roles.” She gazed at him with longing. “Can we really say we love each other when our love is built on lies?”

  Determination shone in his eyes. “There were some truths between us from the very beginning, dearling. I never lied about wanting you. And though I didn’t tell you about my association with Walcester, in every other way, I was myself with you—a shade too quick-tongued, perhaps, about everything, but truthful.”

  She believed him. She didn’t know why, but she did.

  He stroked a tendril of hair from her face. “Nor were you as deceitful as you seem to think. You never lied about your pain. Eve
n when you disguised it, I could sense and understand it, because I’ve suffered a similar pain. And you never lied about your innocence, which showed in your every word and smile.”

  More tears stained her cheeks as she was filled once more with the overwhelming shame of what she’d done. “There’s little enough innocence in me now.”

  “Aye. You’ve learned that the world can be crueler even than your stepfather was. And perhaps for the first time, you’ve committed an act that’s left you feeling genuine guilt. But it’s also helped you learn what you really want for yourself. It’s helped you find the core that is Annabelle, the woman beneath the roles.”

  “I don’t know who Annabelle is anymore.”

  He smiled. “I do. Annabelle is too softhearted to see her father go to prison, despite what he did to her mother. Annabelle is the kind of woman who’ll take on a king before she’ll relinquish her dignity. She’s strong enough to withstand a beating, though I hope to God she never has to again, and kind enough to feed oranges to street urchins. Yet there’s a part of her that wants to shed her roles and simply live.”

  Dear heaven, how could she let a man like this slip away? She’d known many a gallant and none of them had ever seen into her soul the way Colin did. “You make me sound much better than my father.”

  Colin’s eyes went hard. “Your father’s a bastard, dearling, no matter what his lineage. When he calls you names, it’s truly a case of the pot calling the kettle black.”

  The way he leapt to defend her touched her. “You don’t seem fond of him.”

  “Believe me, loyalty and fondness are not the same thing,” he said, arching one brow. “But I’m very fond of his daughter. So tell me: Is his daughter very fond of me?”

  His earnest expression made her breath quicken. “I’m fond of the Colin who gave Aphra enough rent money to last her a lifetime—”

  “Which she used for a wild supper,” he said wryly.

  “Aye. And I’m fond of the Colin who told me about sheaths and protected me from the king.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m very fond of the Colin who said he loved me and promised to marry me and take me to the colonies.”

  His slow smile made her heart catch in her throat.

  “Then you’re fond of me, dearling,” he said in a husky whisper, “for there was and is no other Colin.”

  The words brought her more happiness than she could bear. “Then I suppose I’m quite inordinately fond of you.”

  “Thank God, Annabelle.” He nuzzled her neck. “Hell and furies, how I love you.”

  He began kissing her then, and she gave herself up to it with pure delight. For the moment, her fears were eclipsed by the fire in his touch, by the heat his impassioned avowals had roused within her.

  Then her joy was shattered by a loud knock at the front door.

  “The servants will get it,” he murmured and tried to resume kissing her, but she drew back to listen as the footman opened the door.

  Surely they couldn’t have come for Colin already.

  Then they both heard a loud voice announce, “I’m the captain of His Majesty’s Guard. Is your master at home?”

  She clutched at Colin’s coat. “They’ve come for you. Oh, sweet Mary! You’ve got to escape! You can’t let them take you!”

  He seemed more irritated than afraid. “You mustn’t worry,” he said. “Everything will be all right. Just stay here, and I’ll speak with them.”

  “Colin, no!” she cried, but he was already striding into the foyer, closing the door of the drawing room behind him.

  The man was insane if he thought she’d hide in here while the soldiers took him off. She hurried into the foyer, her heart in her throat.

  “Good day, my lord,” the captain said with a bow.

  “Good day, Captain,” Colin responded. “Can I be of service to you?”

  The captain looked decidedly uncomfortable. “His Majesty has given me orders to accompany you to the Tower. My men await us outside.”

  Sweet Mary, they really were going to arrest Colin. If she ever caught sight of that wretched Lord Rochester, she’d do more than bite off his fingers—she’d plant a knife in the spot Colin had deliberately missed.

  “His Lordship has done nothing wrong,” she couldn’t keep from saying. “Why is he being taken to the Tower?”

  “Annabelle,” Colin said firmly, “go upstairs and stay there until we leave.”

  The captain took one look at her extravagant gown and apparently decided she was Colin’s wife.

  “My lady,” he murmured, bowing again.

  “What is my . . . what is his lordship charged with?” she asked.

  Colin’s face went stony. “Captain. May I have a moment alone with my lady?”

  The captain nodded.

  Colin pulled her back into the drawing room. “Listen, dearling. You mustn’t involve yourself in this. It’s a tricky business, and if I’m to survive it, I must comply with whatever is asked of me. Otherwise, they’ll assume I truly am guilty and I’ll be dead for sure.”

  “But you’ve done nothing!”

  “Aye, and the king will realize that the moment I present my case. Don’t worry.” He flashed her a wry smile. “The king has a certain fondness for me. He’ll throw me in the Tower for a few days to satisfy his honor. ’Tis his way of disciplining his nobles. Last year, Buckingham himself had a stint in the Tower, as did Rochester for eloping with an heiress.”

  She knew about that, but the strain in Colin’s features belied his assurances. This was, after all, a far more serious offense. “Can’t you simply tell them you knew nothing about my father and had nothing to do with his spying on me?”

  He forced a smile. “I could. But as much as I dislike him for what he’s done to you, I can’t betray him. To do so would truly make me a man of no morals.”

  She fought back tears. “Don’t you see? Thanks to me, he’s lost for good. You mustn’t let him take you down with him!”

  “It will be all right,” he repeated.

  This was all her fault. She had to find a way to stop this insanity! “Perhaps if I go to the Privy Council and explain the poem—”

  “You know they won’t believe what you say—not now, after you’ve come forward with a different story. They’ll simply say the same ridiculous things they said before—that you’re a woman and too emotional to be trusted. ’Tis better for you to simply stay out of it and hope for the best.”

  But she couldn’t stay out of it. She couldn’t!

  “Promise me you’ll do nothing to jeopardize your own safety.” He gripped her shoulders. “I’ll go mad in the Tower if I think you’re risking your life or . . . or your dignity for me. Promise me you won’t go to the king or Buckingham or Rochester!”

  She sucked in her breath. He was right. None of them would help her anymore. But perhaps she could find another way.

  “I promise,” she whispered.

  But she wouldn’t promise not to try to save him. She’d find a way to stop the madness. Somehow.

  He searched her face a moment. “Do you have my ring?”

  She stared at him distracted, then bobbed her head and drew the band from her pocket. He slid it onto her finger, then lifted her hand for a sweet kiss.

  “Wait for me, dearling,” he murmured. “Someday we’ll have the chance to be together without all this. I promise.”

  Then he released her and strode out to the captain. She watched him go, her blood pounding in her ears and her hand tingling where he’d kissed it. She wished she could believe him. But despair reared up in her as Colin left with the captain.

  She flew to the window and looked out, her despair growing as she saw the guardsmen who moved to flank Colin, their expressions serious. She couldn’t let this happen!

  But how to stop them? Colin was right—it would do her little good to speak with the king again. He’d obviously made up his mind, as had Buckingham.

  Why were men such fools? They were more concerned with
political connections and power than with the truth. All they saw was what they wanted to see.

  Her entire career had been a perfect example of that. Colin had seen through her roles, but no one else had. The other men had merely seen a scheming actress. Dear heaven, they’d believed her more easily when she was playing a role than now, when she was telling the truth.

  That was when it hit her. Her blood began to race as a plan formed in her mind, one of outrageous, ridiculous proportions. Yet it might work.

  She hurried out into the foyer, where the footman was still standing with his mouth open. When he saw her, he told her with a faintly disapproving air that his lordship had said to make her comfortable in the house until his lordship’s return.

  “I need a coach,” she said in the most imperious voice she could muster. “I must be taken to a friend’s house at once.”

  “But his lordship said—”

  “I’ll be returning, I assure you, but I have to speak with my friend. If you want to see your master free, then please do as I ask.”

  His eyes widened, but he followed her command. A short ride later, Annabelle climbed the stairs to Aphra’s rooms and opened the door, relieved to find the woman poring over a book.

  “Annabelle!” Aphra exclaimed. “Colin’s been looking for you everywhere! What has happened? He wouldn’t tell me anything.”

  “He’s been taken to the Tower.” She told her friend everything, relieved when Aphra didn’t condemn her for what she’d done.

  “That explains one thing, in any case,” Aphra remarked. “A messenger came from Buckingham this morning with a purse for you. He said to tell you that His Grace considers it a small payment in exchange for your cooperation.”

  Annabelle groaned. “Dear heaven, he truly hates my father.”

  “What are you going to do?” Aphra asked.

  Annabelle clasped her friend’s hands. The money from Buckingham could work into her plan quite nicely. “You want to be a playwright, do you not?”

  “Yes, but I don’t see—”