Revolutionary Temptation

by Silvia Violet

  She nodded. “I am sure that is true. I would think most anything would be preferable to the battlefield.”

  It would, and yet he wanted to be in the action again. That was his duty. To stand with his men, to be brave so they could be.

  Mrs. Sullivan moved closer to him and laid a hand on his arm. “It haunts you, doesn’t it?”

  “I…” What could he say? Those were horrors he couldn’t talk about, not with anyone.

  “My husband, he wasn’t an…easy man to live with, but I believe that was mostly because of what he’d seen. Troops under his command were slaughtered by Indian allies of the French after surrendering at Fort Oswego. Based on some of his drunken ramblings, Thomas never expunged those images from his mind, even two decades later. He spent much of his time trying to forget his experiences in battle and failing. He took that failure out on others. That I cannot bring myself to forgive. But he was anguished and unable to heal.”

  All Jack could do was nod. Plenty of the men he fought with turned to alcohol to rid themselves of memories, and some turned to more violence, as if letting their inner demons loose was going to erase the horror of war.

  A knock at the door startled him. “That will be Susanna with the tea and refreshments.”

  “Of course.”

  “Come in,” Mrs. Sullivan called.

  A young woman entered carrying a tray filled with a variety of edibles and a pot of tea—a beverage which somehow found its way to Mrs. Sullivan’s home despite the best efforts of the continental troops to block imports. Susanna set the tray down on the table in front of them. “Would you like me to pour, Mrs. Sullivan?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll pour for us.”

  “Do you require anything else?”

  “Not now. I’ll ring if we do.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She curtsied and left.

  Jack drained the rest of his brandy as Mrs. Sullivan poured tea. He added a lump of sugar to his and then another. It had been ages since he’d had such luxuries. No one had sugar where the army was encamped.

  “You have a sweet tooth, Mr. West?”

  Heat raced to his face. “I suppose that is one of my weaknesses.”

  She smiled. “It’s one I share.” She prepared her tea with several lumps of sugar and then took a sugar cake from the tray. “Please, have whatever you like.”

  He filled a small plate with meringues, cakes, and slices of cheese. After he’d consumed enough to take the edge off his hunger, he said, “I suppose it would be best for me not to ask how you acquired sugar or tea?”

  “You are quite right. I might have to incriminate someone whom I rather like.”

  “Then I shall not ask as long as you are not directly putting our troops in jeopardy.”

  “I am not. But how would it look for a wealthy loyalist not to serve tea and have fine things?”

  “Quite improper, I’m sure.”

  “Exactly.”

  Jack had to admit—to himself at least—that he was grateful to be reaping the benefits of Mrs. Sullivan’s wealth and her determination to be a proper hostess.

  “Now, our first order of business should be to send to the inn for your things and get you settled into one of the rooms here.”

  “Here? You intend me to stay here?”

  “How better for you to become well acquainted with some of the officers?”

  He supposed that did make sense. “But on what pretext?”

  “You are my cousin, of course.”

  At least he wasn’t supposed to be her lover. He wasn’t that excellent an actor. “But what of my actual family that I am meant to be visiting?”

  She frowned. “How likely is a chance meeting?”

  He considered that. They were poorer relations and certainly not going to be mixing socially, but there was always the possibility of seeing them on the street. “That is unlikely, but not impossible.”

  “Then I think you’re safe. How long has it been since they’ve seen you? Would they recognize you?”

  “Possibly not. They haven’t seen me in several years, and the war has changed me.”

  She nodded. “It’s changed all of us.”

  That was true. And for many that change was not for the better. Some young men had gotten a chance to shine, to discover how capable they were; too many others had been killed or had learned how to let loose their baser natures.

  “If they were to see you, our story will be simple enough. You’re visiting me while you recover. We can pretend your injury happened when you fell while…putting up hay in a barn? Will that do?”

  Jack frowned. “I suppose.”

  “Good. For all your relatives know, I’m a cousin from the other side of the family that they’ve never met. You can pretend you thought they’d left the city and apologize for not having called on them.”

  “You make it all sound so easy.”

  “It is. A simple story is always best. And the more truth you put into it, the better. Always tell the truth whenever you can.”

  He scoffed. “That’s quite a way to think of this foul business.”

  “It’s the only way to think of it.” Her tone held no mirth. “This is deadly business, and I expect you to play it my way.”

  She wasn’t a woman one wanted to disagree with. “I agree to your terms.”

  “Then let’s get you settled here, and tonight can be your first test.”

  Jack prayed he could pass it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jack offered his arm to Constance—as she insisted he call her in private—and she stepped close to him.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “Of the evening in general?”

  “Yes, and also of the young man you were just talking to.”

  Jack considered the question. “He pretends to know a lot more than he does.”

  Constance smiled. “Yes, he does. What else?”

  This was his third gathering at Constance’s home. She’d spent the last few days giving him lessons on observing people: their body language, their clothing, what they say and don’t say. He thought he was making progress, but tonight’s gathering was large, and Jack was struggling to simply remember the names of the people she’d introduced him to.

  “Shall we step outside for some fresh air while you contemplate your answer?” Constance asked.

  “Yes, of course.” At least he would have a little longer to analyze the officer he’d been talking to. Harry Jenkins. That was his name.

  Constance led them around the edge of the ballroom, managing to only be waylaid twice by people who insisted on expressing how delighted they were to have received an invitation to her soiree. From what Jack had seen, she was capable of charming anyone. Men and women watched her when she walked by, and everyone wanted a word with her. Fortunately, she not only had the ability to learn everything essential about a person from simply spending a few moments with them, she had an amazing knack for extricating herself from conversations. Jack longed for such a skill. He’d been trapped for far too much of the evening, listening to ignorant, long-winded diatribes against the colonies. One pompous colonel in particular was lucky Jack had such great self-restraint. Otherwise he would’ve laid the man out.

  When they reached a secluded area of the gardens, Constance bade Jack sit on a bench. “Now that we are alone, tell me more.”

  Jack conjured up an image of Jenkins. “His clothes. They were perfect. His valet knows his job; probably the man was hired by his father.”

  “And his father is?”

  “Archer Jenkins, a colonel serving under General Howe.” Constance had also been drilling him in the names and ranks of the men she’d become acquainted with.

  “Very good. What else?”

  “He’s uncomfortable. He remained stiff and aloof, trying to appear distant, because he’s out of his realm and has nothing intelligent to say.”

  Constance nodded, encouraging Jack to continue.

  “His father is disappointed
in him.” This was wild conjecture, but it fit Jenkins’ personality. “Colonel Jenkins is attempting to counteract his son’s deficits by making him appear more important than he is.”

  “You have been paying attention. I’m impressed.”

  “What did I miss?” He might have gotten better at watching and guessing, but he was certain Constance still knew more than he did.

  “You were right to notice that his clothing is meticulous, but did you see that his boots were an exception?”

  Jack shook his head. He’d never looked down at the man’s feet.

  “Jenkins walked through mud on the way here, and he didn’t bother to ask for his boots to be cleaned when he arrived. This confirms what you said about his fastidiousness being unnatural to him.”

  At least Jack had gotten the main idea correct.

  Constance continued. “He favors his left side. He’s weak there, most likely from a childhood illness. Perhaps that is why he’s nervous about military service. His uniform shows no signs of having been mended or stained, indicating he’s never seen any action. And I would wager he never will if his father has any say.”

  “How can you be certain of what his father wants?”

  Constance smiled. “Years of watching and learning what motivates people.”

  “You cannot be older than I am.”

  “Perhaps not by much. My childhood home wasn’t an easy one to grow up in. I needed all the information I could to keep myself safe.”

  He wanted to know more, but he dared not ask. If and when she wanted to tell him more about herself, she would do so without prompting. “Your instincts are excellent, and I’ve already learned a great deal, but if we’re going to stake our lives on this…”

  “We have to be certain we’re right?”

  He nodded.

  “The problem with that philosophy is that there are no guarantees. At some point, instincts are all we have. You must know that from the battlefield.”

  “That’s true. In the middle of a fight, one must be ruled by instinct. But our actions aren’t the same. We are able to calculate our efforts in advance.”

  “Not always. Sometimes we must take a chance in the moment; never doubt that you and I are also fighting, just in a different arena.”

  She was right. Jack knew even less about this arena than he’d known when he first charged into battle.

  “I have someone I want you to meet.”

  Jack suppressed a sigh. “And I’d hoped the night was winding down.”

  She laughed. “It’s still early to many of my guests.”

  It was well past midnight, and Jack longed to go to bed.

  “The man I want you to meet isn’t here tonight. I intend to invite him to my next gathering. He’s someone I’d like to recruit to our cause.”

  Jack knew that in theory the more eyes and ears working for the rebels the better, but recruiting more spies meant more people who knew his secret. “How well do you know this man?”

  “I purchased a book from his shop, and we’ve corresponded a few times.”

  “And yet you want to risk—”

  She held up a hand. “There’s no need for such concern. I do think these things through.” She reached into her bodice and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” He’d thought her eccentricities had lost the power to shock him. He was obviously wrong.

  She laughed. “I sometimes wonder how a man can be as innocent as you.”

  His stomach flip-flopped. Innocent? No. He was so far from it. “I assure you I—”

  “There’s no need to defend yourself. You’re refreshing. I like that.” She held out the piece of paper. “The man I’d like us to work with wrote this.”

  Jack stared at the paper, but he didn’t take it from her. His own instincts were screaming that he was stepping into trouble. “What is it?”

  She laid it on his lap. “Read it and see.”

  When he picked it up, it was still warm from her body. He unfolded the paper slowly. Somehow he knew it would change his life.

  The name of the addressee and the writer were cut out.

  “How do you know he wrote this?”

  “I’m the one who removed the names,” she said.

  “Whom was it addressed to?”

  She waved a hand dismissively. “That doesn’t matter.”

  Jack frowned. Did she not trust him enough to tell him? Was she protecting someone?

  “Read it. There is no reason to involve the other party.”

  Dear _______

  I have prepared another essay. I believe it will be of great interest to you for your publication. If you are unable to free yourself from work today, I will deliver it to your shop in the usual manner.

  Yours,

  _______

  “Please deliver” was scrawled across the bottom of the letter by way of a reply, followed by an initial. The writing was challenging to read, but he thought it was an R.

  “How is this significant?”

  “I am well acquainted with the printer.”

  “And?”

  “He publishes essays supporting the rebels in secret and passes me information.”

  Jack frowned. “Did he give you this?”

  “No, I…discovered it.”

  “You discovered it?”

  Constance sighed. “I made a visit to the man who wrote it and found it in his desk.”

  Jack was incredulous. “You searched a man’s desk? Do you understand the danger you put yourself in?”

  “Someone has to be willing to take these risks.”

  “And what did you suspect him of?”

  She smirked at Jack. “The exact crime he’s committing.”

  Jack had known there was more to this mission than attending unpleasant parties when he’d rather be in bed, but violating a man’s privacy in such a fashion… “He has no idea you took the letter?”

  “No, he believes me a loyalist, and as far as he knows I believe him to be one too.”

  How many false loyalists were there in New York? “Is anyone in town actually against us?”

  She smiled. “Yes, I’m afraid so. Many of these officers are quite sincere in their support of Britain’s claims on us.”

  “As I should hope they would be if they’re willing to kill for those beliefs.”

  “Some of them are more concerned with receiving their pay or with the status they could gain through promotion. Some are simply bloodthirsty, and any enemy would do for them to slake their lust.”

  “I’m afraid there are more of those on our side than I’d care to see,” Jack said.

  “War doesn’t necessarily bring out the best in any of us.”

  “From what I’ve seen, it brings out extremes of bravery and kindness, but also of cruelty.”

  Constance nodded in agreement.

  Jack looked down at the stolen letter. “You’re certain he’s writing in support of the rebels?”

  “Very certain. I read one of his essays.”

  “Did you steal it too?”

  She shook her head. “He would have noticed its absence immediately, since I interrupted him in the midst of writing.”

  Jack frowned. What she’d done could profit them, but he was never going to like it. “What made you suspect him?”

  “I’d seen him at the printer’s. He runs a bookshop, but he’s new in town, a poor relation of the shop’s former owner, Turner De Lancey.”

  “He’s related to one of the staunchest supporters of England, and that made you think he’d be sympathetic to our cause?”

  “He loathes his uncle.”

  “Did he conveniently tell you that?”

  “No, I pegged him as a likely recruit as soon as I heard his story from one of his regular customers. I quickly learned that he’s everything I’d hoped: charming, gorgeous, sly, out to improve himself by any means necessary, and a supporter of our cause.”

  “Is that what you like in a man?”


  She laughed. “I like many things, but those are qualities I can exploit.”

  “Is everyone simply a resource for you, a tool for your mission?” His words were harsh, and he regretted them instantly, but she didn’t appear to be offended.

  “Isn’t that how an officer thinks?”

  Jack paused. “To an extent, yes.”

  “I am female, and this isn’t a battlefield, but that doesn’t change the requirements. I’m leading this campaign, and I must do it objectively.”

  Jack didn’t like that she was right. He didn’t like anything about the situation. “I wish—”

  “We all wish a lot of things, but if I’m going to help the rebels, I have to find people who can help me. The man I wish you to meet isn’t a good man in the same way you are. I believe he is motivated by revenge more than anything, but I also believe he could prove very useful.”

  “How do we know he won’t betray us if it suits his needs?”

  “I know his secret, and I have the ear of many British officers. He wouldn’t want me to tell them what I know.”

  “Would you?” Jack asked.

  “Only if I truly believed he was about to betray us.”

  “So what happens now? You invite this man here, reveal what you know, and he happily joins us?”

  She laughed. “Yes. I had thought to do exactly that. And he will join us, but he will probably take a good deal of convincing. Before I talk to him, however, I’d like your opinion of him first.”

  “But if you’ve already decided—”

  Constance shook her head. “I’ve decided, but you’ll have to work with him too. If we rise early enough tomorrow, we can meet him in the street after he takes breakfast, which he does each morning before he opens the bookshop.”

  Jack was about to ask how she knew this, and then it dawned on him. “You’ve had him watched?”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  “Sometimes you frighten me.”

  “Many would do well to be afraid of me, but they don’t see through my facade. You do. That’s one reason you’re right for this mission.”

  “Why should we meet him in the street instead of his shop?”

  Constance narrowed her eyes. “You tell me.”

  Jack thought about it for several moments. Anyone might appear in a shop. There wasn’t anything odd about one of them purchasing a book, but…Constance had obviously been there recently. “You don’t want to appear too eager.”