Revolutionary Temptation

by Silvia Violet

  “Right. This man likes to be in control. If we meet by chance on neutral ground, it will be easier for you to form an opinion. Also, I can extend an invitation to him without him thinking I sought him out.”

  “Because nothing can be forthright in this game.”

  “Very few things, but I like that you question me. You challenge me to look for the simplest solutions and come right to the point, curbing my desire to make the game more elaborate than it needs to be.”

  “You and this man, it sounds like you are quite alike. You both enjoy intrigue, knowing everything about people who don’t even realize you’re watching.”

  “Yes, I do believe Mr. Ashfield loves to play people.”

  “And what does he hope to gain from his acquaintance with you?” Jack knew what most men would want from her: her money, her power, and a place in her bed.

  “I’m not certain, and that alone intrigues me.”

  “You’re saying you can’t read this man’s motives despite your impressive skills, yet you want to trust him with our secret?”

  She scowled at him, but then her expression softened, and she sighed. “I do.”

  “How can you expect me to trust him?”

  “Come with me to meet him, study him, and tell me what your instincts say. That’s all I ask.”

  “How early do we need to take our place on the stage?”

  She grinned. “Spying is much like acting. We must leave at such an unfashionable hour that you should say your leg is paining you and retire. Once you are safely upstairs, I will fall prey to a vicious headache and find my own bed.”

  As he rose, his leg screamed with pain and only took his weight reluctantly. He offered his arm to Constance.

  “Thank you, kind sir. For your assistance, and for trusting me.”

  He smiled at her. “You’re welcome. A woman who is as open and honest as you couldn’t be anything but trustworthy.”

  “I’m rarely honest, and most of the time my ‘openness’ is pretend. It’s nice to be with someone I don’t have to hide from. I’m glad you took this mission.”

  He contemplated his situation and imagined being back in the army camp, writing letters, recording figures, disciplining men who were bored and restless. “So am I.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  When Eli had nearly reached his destination, he saw Mrs. Sullivan talking with Major Bradford, who’d been in his shop several times, the officer’s sister, and a very attractive young man Eli didn’t recognize. Eli wanted to know who he was: her lover, a relative, his next conquest?

  He was debating crossing the street to put himself into their path when Mrs. Sullivan turned and noticed him. “Good day, Mr. Ashfield,” she called.

  He crossed to join them, admonishing himself not to be too forward. He must wait for her to introduce him to her beautiful companion.

  “Mr. Ashfield, what a pleasure.”

  “My day is brightened by this lucky coincidence.”

  “You are such a charmer, Mr. Ashfield. Are you acquainted with Major Bradford?”

  Eli and the major nodded to one another. “Yes, the major and I have a mutual love of books.” Eli couldn’t help but notice that the major was watching Mrs. Sullivan with considerable interest, as most men did, though not the attractive stranger who accompanied them.

  “Have you also met his sister, Miss Bradford?”

  “I am fortunate to have had that pleasure.” Eli bowed to the lady. “I am your servant, madam.”

  She turned to her other companion. “This is my cousin, Mr. West. He is staying with me while recovering from an injury.”

  “Mr. West, I am most pleased to meet you.” Eli inclined his head and smiled at the man. For just a second before he concealed it, Mr. West’s eyes had widened. He’d noticed Eli sizing him up. Eli was willing to bet he was a fellow backgammon player.

  Between the intriguing woman herself, the puzzle of her entry into his shop, and her alluring friend, an evening at her home would prove the best diversion Eli’d had since moving to the city.

  “The pleasure is mine.” Mr. West bowed, and as he rose, Eli made a point of giving Mr. West a slow once-over.

  He was taking a risk, being more obvious in his regard than he should, but he wanted Mr. West to know how very interested he was in furthering their acquaintance.

  Color rose in the man’s face. Good. He’d noticed.

  “I hope you’re enjoying your stay in New York.”

  “W-why yes, I am.” He was flustered. Eli liked that. A lot.

  “Were you headed to your shop?” Mrs. Sullivan asked.

  “Yes, madam. I must ready it for the day.”

  Mrs. Sullivan turned to her cousin. “Are you a reader, Mr. West?”

  “Not much of one, I confess.”

  “Then I must make it my mission to change you,” Eli said.

  Mrs. Sullivan gave Mr. West a pointed look.

  “I suppose I might find something to enjoy while I’m recuperating.”

  “Precisely.” Mrs. Sullivan turned to Eli. “Pick out something you think would appeal to Mr. West, and place it on my account.”

  “There’s no need to do that,” Mr. West said.

  Mrs. Sullivan waved a hand. “I’m only too glad to provide you with entertainment while you’re here.”

  Her tone was quite knowing. What was she about? Were they lovers as well as cousins? Eli wouldn’t mind having them both. At the same time. “I’d be delighted to do so. I believe I know just the thing, a favorite of mine.”

  “Excellent,” she said. “That’s settled, then. Miss Bradford, have you seen the newest creation at Harper’s Millinery?”

  Miss Bradford’s face lit up. “No, madam. I have not.”

  “Then we shall all walk that way. I have it in mind not to return home without a new hat and a pair of gloves to match.”

  “Good day,” Eli said. “And good luck to you ladies.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Mrs. Sullivan responded. Miss Bradford gave him a shy smile.

  JACK CLEARED HIS throat. “If Major Bradford is at leisure to accompany you ladies, I will take leave of you and follow Mr. Ashfield. If I’m to have reading material, I may as well pick it out myself rather than impose on him.”

  Mr. Ashfield looked at Jack as if it would be his pleasure to have Jack impose on him in intimate ways. Jack turned away before Mr. Ashfield’s lack of discretion caused comment.

  “I am exceedingly pleased to be these ladies’ chaperone,” Bradford responded.

  Constance smiled. “If I do not meet up with you before then, I shall see you at home for dinner, Mr. West.”

  Jack bowed, and Constance linked arms with Miss Bradford and sailed off.

  “This way, sir,” Mr. Ashfield said. “My shop is just there.” He pointed to a building down the street. Jack saw the sign—De Lancey’s Emporium—with a stack of books painted on it.

  As they crossed the street, Jack watched Mr. Ashfield. His gaze drifted down over the man’s firm ass and his legs, which were sculpted perfection. Then the wind caught Mr. Ashfield’s hat, and it was blown away, revealing his beautiful golden hair in all its glory. Was it as soft as it looked? Jack was beginning to believe Mr. Ashfield was his ultimate fantasy come to life.

  “Mr. West?” Ashfield asked as they entered the store.

  “Um…yes?”

  Ashfield smirked. Fuck, Jack was being obvious.

  “What type of book are you looking for, sir?”

  Jack pondered this. He’d never been much of a reader, preferring to be outside, doing something physical. In school he’d been forced to pour over dry law books until his eyes ached. He’d not read much since. “History, I suppose.” That at least had some appeal as an interesting subject.

  “Hmmm. Might I make a suggestion?”

  Ashfield’s tone indicated that his suggestion might be very lewd. Surely Jack was imagining that. “Of course, sir,” Jack answered.

  Ashfield took Jack’s arm and pulled
him toward a shelf in the corner. The warm, firm contact had Jack’s cock very interested. He bit back a groan. The last thing he needed was a fucking cockstand.

  Focus on the books.

  The shelf displayed ghastly gothic novels.

  Jack snorted. “These are hardly something I would be interested in.”

  “Really?” Ashfield drew the word out and held Jack’s gaze. God, his eyes are beautiful.

  “Mr. Ashfield, I don’t care for nonsense written to titillate girls just out of the schoolroom.”

  “Oh, you think that’s what they’re for, do you? You may call me Eli, by the way. I believe we are going to be friends.”

  Without answering, Jack picked up a copy of Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded.

  “Ah, yes, that is one of my most sought-for books, but I much prefer this one.” Eli ran a finger over the cover of The Palace of Mysteries. “It’s anonymously written and quite…horrid.” He dropped his voice to say the last word, and Jack felt it like a caress.

  “You can’t tell me you read this…balderdash.”

  “I do, as do plenty of…”—he gave Jack a studying once-over—“officers who patronize this shop. You’d be surprised just how popular this ‘balderdash’ is.”

  What was Eli implying? Had Jack reached for his sword or given some other indication he was or had been in the army?

  Eli reached across Jack, stepping close enough to press his chest against Jack’s side. Jack sucked in his breath, which turned out to be a mistake; Eli smelled like cinnamon, nutmeg, and smoke—likely from standing close to a hearth.

  Jack wanted to bury his face in Eli’s neck and draw in his scent while tasting his warm skin. Instead, he stepped to the side. “Excuse me.”

  “Oh, you didn’t have to move.” Eli’s smile said he regretted the loss of intimacy. Was he truly openly flirting with Jack?

  Jack glanced at the book Eli had selected. “The Palace of Horrors?”

  “There are some quite chilling scenes in there. Mary is left all alone in a haunted palace and ends up lost in a series of tunnels. She believes she is being chased by a beast and—”

  Jack held his hand up. “Enough.”

  “But you seem like a man who craves new experiences.”

  “I…” Jack exhaled slowly. “I suppose I am.”

  “Then try one of these books. You might like it.”

  Jack shook his head. “No. Something on ancient history. The life of a Roman general or…Greek architecture. Or…” What else could he say that sounded loftier than this gothic rubbish but not utterly dull?

  Maybe you are utterly dull. Jack heard the words in his sister’s voice.

  Eli sighed. “Are you certain I can’t convince you otherwise?”

  “No, these stories are…not for me.” Firm, but no longer insulting. He could be a gentleman.

  “You never know what you might be into if you don’t try.”

  Jack cleared his throat. He really needed to get out of this shop before Eli’s flirting and his own baser instincts overtook him. “I’m certain. Just select something historical for me, and I’ll be on my way.”

  Eli bowed. “As you wish, sir. Wait here.” He gestured toward a pair of armchairs by the fire. “I’ll select something that suits your taste and wrap it up for you.”

  Jack watched Eli walk away, unable to take his eyes off the gorgeous lines of his legs, firm thighs, muscular calves, outrageously ornate shoes. The man was a fop and far less discreet than he should be, not Jack’s type at all. Fantasy and reality should not meet. Oh, who the hell was he kidding—Eli was exactly the sort of man who called to Jack’s most sinful desires. He would have to work hard to curb his lust if they were going to work together.

  ***

  Jack walked along Wall Street. His leg pained him, but he was tired of spending his days inside, so he was testing his endurance by exploring the city. After a few blocks, he spotted Constance making her farewells to the Bradfords. She waved and crossed the street to join him. “Did you find a book?”

  “A book… Oh, yes.”

  She laughed. “Lost in thought, were you?”

  Ashfield was already causing him trouble. “Please forgive me.”

  “He is rather captivating, isn’t he?”

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Ashfield, of course. I must admit I’m quite taken by him.”

  “Taken? Well, he’s intriguing, certainly.”

  “And handsome,” Constance added.

  Jack sputtered and tried to hide it with a cough. “If you say so.”

  “I’m hardly going to summon a constable if you admit it. It doesn’t make a damn bit of difference to me where your attractions lie.”

  No. This wasn’t happening. How could they bring Ashfield in on their mission if his interest was already this easily detected? “I’m afraid I misunderstand you. What are you speaking of?”

  “Your fascination with Mr. Ashfield.”

  “My interest in Mr. Ashfield lies solely in considering him for recruitment,” Jack said.

  Constance looked very pleased with herself. “I think you’re interested in more than working with him.”

  Jack needed to convince her she was wrong. “More? I don’t take your meaning, madam.”

  “I believe you do, but I can see this conversation is not one you’re willing to entertain. I do wish you to understand, however, that neither I nor anyone in my household cares who you take to your bed. A few of the officers who are living with me insisted on sharing a room, and I happen to know they fuck each other roundly each night.”

  Jack choked. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me quite plainly, Mr. West.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  She scoffed. “I can, and I am.”

  “But if you know of such illicit behavior, then—”

  “I’m looking for information I can use, not policing anyone’s morals.”

  And this was dangerous information indeed. “You intend to use it as blackmail?”

  “Only if they put us in danger. Even then it would likely be a ruse. The men have been nothing but kind to me. I have no desire to see them hanged. We may be on opposite sides, but there’s no reason for cruelty.”

  “I agree.” Jack managed to keep his voice steady.

  “So. Tell me your impression of Mr. Ashfield.”

  “He’s arrogant, overconfident, pretending to greater means than he has, and dangerously charming.”

  She gave a knowing smile. “Like I said. He’s perfect for our mission.”

  “How can you say I’m the right man for this job and then insist he is too? We couldn’t be more different.”

  “Balance. You are honest and simplistic; men trust that. Mr. Ashfield is sly and willing to bend his beliefs to suit the moment. He’ll be able to insinuate himself wherever he wants to go.”

  “So you’ll ask him to do the tasks I refuse?” How far would Ashfield go to get information?

  “Possibly, but it’s simply advantageous to have the ability to enter wherever we might wish.”

  Jack grasped her logic, but everything in him—except for his unruly cock—protested the idea of working with Ashfield. The man was dangerous and possibly reckless.

  “The kind of man who’s willing to do anything won’t bother weighing the risks of a mission. He might well compromise us.”

  Constance shrugged. “It is a risk, to be sure. As are all things.”

  “Yes, I know, but—”

  “Do you think he’s honorable?”

  Jack frowned. “I understood you to say he wasn’t.”

  “Not by your standards, but what about in the way that it counts for our mission?”

  Jack didn’t want to answer. “How am I supposed to judge his character after a single conversation?”

  “Sometimes that’s all we have. What do your instincts say?”

  Jack sorted through the conflicting thoughts in his head. Lust. Fear. Repulsion. Attraction. So many contradict
ions. “I simply don’t know.”

  “If you were running from the enemy and Mr. Ashfield offered you a place to hide, would you go with him?”

  Jack scowled. “I wouldn’t run.”

  “There are certain horrors that anyone would run from, sir.”

  He had to concede that. “Yes, God help me. I would go with him.”

  She smiled. “Then it’s settled. I’ll send him an invitation for the salon I’m hosting two days hence.”

  Jack was in trouble. Ashfield wanted him. He’d made that very clear, and Jack wasn’t sure he had the strength to resist.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Eli pulled the invitation from his pocket, marveling once again at the perfection of the penmanship and the fineness of the paper. He imagined Mrs. Sullivan didn’t do anything unless she could do it perfectly, and Eli wanted to have her ease, her ability to have whatever—and whomever—she wanted.

  Before knocking, he straightened the lapels of his coat. He’d chosen the bright-blue satin for the evening. It was the finest he had, and it contrasted perfectly with his light hair, which he hadn’t powdered, instead letting its goldenness make him stand out. He wanted everyone to look at him, notice him, remember him. He felt no shame using his looks to get what he wanted. He needed friends and connections, and if a pleasing aspect won him that—and perhaps also someone to warm his bed—all the better.

  The footman who opened the door took his cloak, and he proceeded into the room. He recognized Major Bradford, Colonel Jenkins, and several other officers who’d patronized his store, as well as a few of the smugglers who supplied his side business. Mrs. Sullivan certainly did have an interesting mix of friends.

  After procuring a glass of wine from a passing servant, he began to make his way round the edge of the room, observing rather than yet attempting to join any conversations. A group of women who were seated on a sofa watched him in a way that told him he’d be welcome to join them. He returned their smiles and gave them a small bow. Perhaps later he would seek one of them out. For now he was on a mission: he intended to find Mrs. Sullivan and her intriguing cousin.