Texas Viscount

by Henke, Shirl

  Sabrina paled. If it had been some poor soul genuinely ill, she would not have hesitated. But a drunkard...and that odious woman whom Josh had taken riding to boot! “I will rot in Hades before I lift a finger to—”

  “You will do as you're told immediately or I will take you to Mr. Hasmettle and have you dismissed,” he interrupted, seizing her arm and jerking her toward Samsonov's suite.

  Josh grinned as they approached the door, but then decided it would be best if he took a hand before both he and Sabrina lost track of dear Eddy. “Hey, there, you in the general's suit,” he called out to the bell captain in the loud tone of a nouveau-riche American. “I need that there little filly to help me unpack my duds.” He strutted up to Sabrina, who stared at him gape-jawed as she jerked her arm angrily free of her captor's grip.

  The look in her eyes was murderous, but it was obvious to Josh she could not decide on whom to vent her fury as she looked from the protesting captain and then to her rescuer. Josh grabbed her other arm just as the bell captain let go, and whispered in her ear, “It's me or the puke, darlin', take your pick.”

  “Please, sir, I'm certain you don't want this female. I was just about to dismiss her for impudence. I shall summon another maid. What is your room number?” the captain asked.

  “This here filly will do right enough...if you take my meanin’.” He gave a lewd wink to the man and peeled a large banknote from the roll in his pocket.

  The bell captain's eyes lit with greed as he seized the money, bowing obsequiously. “Very good, sir. Very good indeed.”

  Josh grinned. “I sure hope she is!”

  As the smirking bell captain bowed and scraped his way down the hall, Josh was left with a spitting-mad Sabrina. “Kiss me and make it look good,” he commanded, lowering his mouth to hers. He could feel the stiff resistance in her body as he claimed the kiss.

  That avaricious lump of greed who called himself a bell captain watched for a moment, then slipped down the servants’ stairs. The instant she heard the door close, Sabrina stomped down with her heel on Josh's instep.

  “Ow! Now, why'd you have to go and do that?” he asked, hopping around on his uninjured foot. “It's not time for my dance lessons yet.”

  “What are you doing here, you...you lying, deceitful, conniving—”

  “Whoa, now,” he interrupted her tirade. “It seems to me if anyone's been deceived, it's me—by your darlin’ Eddy. Not to mention my own uncle,” he added beneath his breath.

  “You used me,” she burst out, suddenly realizing to her mortification that tears were stinging her eyes. She blinked them back as she went on the attack again. “You were never interested in me—just in entrapping poor, foolish Eddy!”

  He dodged her little fist as she attempted to plant it with surprising; force in his stomach. ‘This isn't the time or place for this palaver. I can't afford for Zarenko to find me here.”

  “I suppose that's the villain to whom my cousin delivered those documents,” she said, suddenly deflated. She was a fool to think even for one moment that a viscount would dally with a spinster teacher if he did not have an ulterior motive. She'd actually believed he found her desirable. Fool, fool, fool!

  “Dammit, Sabrina,” Josh said, placing her arm around his and starting for the stairs, “you're meddling in something that could get you killed.”

  As opposed to breaking her heart. “I will not stand by and watch my cousin be imprisoned for something he was duped into doing. This Zarenko—”

  “Would kill you or Whistledown quicker than a frog would swallow a fly. We have to find your cousin and take him—”

  “Oh, no! You're not taking Edmund to be interrogated by your friends in the Foreign Office. I overheard what happened to the last fellow they had in their care!” she cried.

  “I wondered why the two of you took off so sudden-like,” he mused as they began descending the steps.

  Midway down, they encountered a young gentleman escorting an elderly lady in puce satin. Son and mother gaped at the obviously well-dressed man who held on to a mere chambermaid as if she were his wife. As they passed, the gray-haired lady muttered something about the impudence of servants, the moral decline of the upper classes, and whatever was the world coming to?

  “I have to change clothes,” Sabrina whispered when they were out of sight. “That's where we'll find Eddy—but I'll cooperate only if you promise not to turn him over to the authorities before hearing us out.” Did she dare trust him? Sabrina had no idea, but she did have a choice. Once she and Edmund had their clothes back, they could slip away from Josh.

  She needed time to think, to formulate a plan. At least they now knew the name of the Russian agent. Then another thought struck her. “I heard the earl mention that the mistress of a member of the royal family was involved in some assassination plot—it's Natasha Samsonov, isn't it?”

  Josh sighed in capitulation. “You're smart as a tree full of owls, aren't you.” It was not a question. “That female is, if anything, even more dangerous than her brother, who, incidentally, is Nikolai Zarenko whose daddy owns a big chunk of the Trans-Siberian Railroad.”

  They were at the bottom of the staircase and starting to draw curious looks before Josh realized he had to let go of her. The moment he did, she hissed, “I'm going to change clothes. I'll bring Edmund out to meet you as soon as we're ready to leave.”

  Josh grinned. “Now, why don't I believe you?”

  “Because you lied to me and judge others by your own standards,” she snapped back.

  He let her go, watching the starchy way she walked across the lobby, like a queen shooing aside courtiers. There wasn't a man alive with the sense of half a brick who'd mistake her for a servant. If ever a woman acted to the manor born, it was Miss Sabrina Edgewater. But that didn't mean he could trust her to keep her word. Not when she was playing mother hen to her favorite chick, Eddy Whistledown.

  Josh figured he had about five minutes to find the servants' rear entrance to the hotel.

  * * * *

  “Come on, Eddy, don't dawdle, else you'll have to worry about another sort of neckwear,” she scolded impatiently as he fussed with his cravat. “If we don't slip out the back door quickly, I'm certain the viscount will come searching for us,” Sabrina chided in frustration. Heavens above, she'd managed a whole row of buttons down her back in half the time! “Do you want to be turned over to the earl, who believes you've stolen secret documents and betrayed your country?”

  “Of course n—” he protested as she practically dragged him from the small room and down the hall.

  The sunlight was bright as they burst through the door into an alleyway strewn with refuse from vendors' produce carts. Edmund nearly slipped on a slimy, well-blackened banana peel as they looked around, getting their bearings. “I think we should go that way,” he said, pointing left.

  “I think you oughta head my way,” Josh drawled conversationally as he emerged from behind a large wagon loaded with beef for the hotel kitchen. “What? Not glad to see me?” He shook his head in mocking reproof. “Sabbie, Sabbie, what am I going to do with you?” His eyes lit up devilishly at possible answers to the rhetorical question. “And here I saved you from having to clean up after Natasha. Drinking vodka like she does, I bet she can geyser up like Old Faithful.”

  “You should know, my lord, being intimately acquainted with the toe dancer,” she snapped, then quickly scolded, “and as oafish and crude as ever.”

  He grinned. “Did you expect a change in the five minutes since you last saw me? But I reckon more lessons might help.”

  “I'm surprised you'd trust me to give them, or do you intend to come to my prison for instruction?” She arched one eyebrow and fixed him with a cold stare.

  “I don't think you're a spy, darlin'. As for your cousin here, I'm not so all-fired sure.”

  Looking as if he'd just swallowed a goldfish, Edmund stood frozen as he listened to their exchange, which was too intimate by half in spite of Sabrina's
addressing the viscount properly The American certainly did not return the courtesy, an infraction for which he had seen her deliver many a set-down. Then he dared to glance at Sabrina and saw something soft and vulnerable flash in her eyes. But perhaps it was a trick of the light, for she blinked and it was gone.

  Edmund tried to move protectively in front of her, braving the viscount's wrath as he protested, “I say, my lord, you can cast aspersions on me but not—”

  Sabrina thwarted his grand speech by stepping forward and pushing him to the side. “I can handle this matter myself, Edmund.”

  Stubbornly he moved in front of her once more. “As the man of—”

  This time Sabrina held on to his arm with amazing strength as she stepped around him again, but before she could utter a word, Josh broke into laughter, saying, “You two got the makings of a good vaudeville act there.”

  “Will you both stop this instant!” she practically shrieked, stamping her foot, which unfortunately landed in a pile of slimy lettuce. If Josh had not reached out and steadied her, she would have fallen.

  “Easy,” he said gently as she jerked her arm angrily away.

  Regaining control of her emotions, she said in a cool voice, “I was going to return, my lord, once I saw my cousin to safety. Edmund is not guilty. He, too, has been used quite shamefully.”

  The barb struck home. Josh winced. “Now, that's a downright nasty remark. I've never used you for any reason, Sabrina, but this isn't the place to palaver on that.”

  Once again, Edmund interposed himself between his cousin and the tall Texan. “I say, you may be a viscount, sir, but you cannot address my cousin so familiarly.” He swallowed hard. “I shall be forced to take measures—”

  “Oh? What measures would those be?” Josh asked, skewering the skinny youth with cold green eyes as he revealed his Colt Lightning concealed in a shoulder holster.

  “Stop picking on poor Eddy, you great Texas bully,” Sabrina said, planting her hands on her hips as she stepped menacingly toward the viscount.

  Edmund placed a restraining hand on her arm. “I say, Coz, as your only male kinsman present, it is incumbent upon me to—”

  “Shut up, Eddy!” both Sabrina and the aggrieved viscount yelled in unison.

  Edmund nearly swallowed his tongue.

  “Come on, let's go,” Josh said, ignoring the boy as he shook his head at Sabrina. “We'll sort this mess out, and then I'll decide what to do.” With that, he signaled a hansom driver who had just turned into the alley, and the vehicle lumbered to a stop, narrowly missing the side of the butcher's wagon. Josh opened the door and indicated they should climb aboard.

  “Only if you promise to give us a full and impartial hearing,” Sabrina said stubbornly.

  “I've never been able to be impartial about you, darlin’,” he murmured. “But I'll listen to the boy's story.”

  Grudgingly she allowed him to assist her into the coach, unconsciously noting how polished his physical manners had become, even if his vocabulary remained sadly lacking in social graces. Edmund jumped aboard like a frightened jackrabbit.

  Josh gave directions to the driver and then joined them. As the hansom rumbled down the street, he leaned back, stretching his long legs in front of him, brushing the side of Sabrina's skirt as she perched on the seat across from him with her cousin at her side. “Now, begin at the beginning. And this better be good,” he said, affixing his most daunting Texas glare on Whistledown.

  * * * *

  Natasha Samsonov reclined on a fainting couch, languidly sipping vodka with ice. Normally she preferred not to dilute her liquor, but last night she'd foolishly overindulged and this was the price she had to pay. She had a performance tonight, and if this did not relieve the damnable ache pounding in her temples, she doubted she'd be able to go on.

  At least the servants had finally finished fussing over the inferior furnishings in this wretched English hotel and left her in peace. If only that equally wretched Englishman would do the same. Just thinking of him made her take a deep swallow of vodka. A pity no one ever witnessed her greatest performances, pretending to be madly in love with that fool. He was even more repulsive than Albany's son; but since that source had been discovered, they'd been fortunate to find someone even closer on the inside to feed them information.

  Her hopes for the Texas viscount had been dashed as well. He could have been ever so entertaining, but he turned out to be quite impossible. No man had ever dared speak to her the way he did! And all over some silly horseless carriage. Once their mission was accomplished, the czar would reward her. She would buy herself one of those German vehicles and race it across Saint Petersburg!

  Her pleasant reverie was interrupted by a rap on the door. That would be her tiresome brother here to lecture her about last night. As her maid admitted him, she finished her drink and set the glass discreetly behind the couch.

  Nikolai Zarenko stormed into the room, his lip curling with disgust as he looked at his sister's pale face and bloodshot eyes. “They nearly captured me, we had to risk our best assassin to silence Vassily, and all you do is drink! How did this happen? I believed you when you said the old fool was besotted with you.”

  “He is, Nicki, he is,” she said, wishing he'd lower his voice but knowing that if she pressed him, he'd only yell louder to punish her.

  “The information he gave us led me into a trap!”

  “All the better we arranged things as we have, but I am certain he did not deceive me on purpose. After all, if he did, he would risk exposing himself...and losing me,” she said, running her fingers through her waist-length black hair and twirling a curl idly about her fingers. She shuddered in revulsion, thinking of what she would have to do to get the information they needed.

  “We have only a few days before the treaty is signed. You must learn when and where Hayashi will really arrive. There is no time for another blunder,” Zarenko said darkly. “That treaty must not be signed, and the English royal family must be disgraced!”

  Natasha sighed. “I know, Nicki, I know. Finding out about the Japanese minister's arrival will be simple. Allowing that pig to rut on me is the difficult part.”

  “You could always close your eyes and pretend he's your virile Texan, not an inept old Englishman,” her brother said nastily as he pivoted and walked through the door to his suite.

  She threw the half-full vodka bottle at him but hit the closed door instead.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The earl decided that bringing Sabrina and Edmund to the city house might alert Russian agents that the jig was up. Instead, he smuggled them into a private room at his club, the only way acceptable for a lady to set foot on the premises. The very old-school men's club reeked of masculinity. The walls were covered with dark green paper and the woodwork was dark teak. The furniture was massive, and the paintings on the walls, all of hunting scenes, were outnumbered by pieces of antique armament.

  Josh sat in one of the large leather chairs across from his uncle as Sabrina and her cousin laid out the details of how Edmund had come to be duped by the Russians and an English traitor in their midst. Hambleton's face remained expressionless as Sabrina prodded Edmund and elucidated when he was unclear. Whether or not the earl believed them, Josh had no idea.

  I'd hate to play poker with him.

  When they had finished talking, the old man leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk and steepling his fingers, deep in thought. “Very interesting,” he ventured at length as the silence in the room thickened.

  Josh could sense the old man's mind working as Edmund fidgeted nervously in his seat. Damn fool kid was acting guilty. Then again, for all Josh could tell, maybe he was guilty. On the other hand, Sabrina sat perched on the edge of her seat, back ramrod-straight, as cool as if she were serving tea for a deportment pupil. But he could see in her eyes that she was afraid for the boy.

  “If someone at the Foreign Office or in your establishment is guilty, what better way to cover himself? Whist
ledown is a natural-born sucker,” Josh ventured.

  At that insult, Sabrina turned angrily in her chair and glared at him. “That is most unkind.”

  A grin tugged at his mouth. “But you didn't say it wasn't true.”

  Edmund merely hung his head in red-faced misery.

  “I think it's monstrous that we've been drawn into this—this conspiracy under the basest pretenses,” she said, addressing the earl. “We've been lied to and duped and made to look like fools. How can we prove to you that we're innocent?”

  Josh knew she was really speaking to him. Did she actually believe he'd made love to her because he wanted to lure her cousin into a trap? He started to protest, but a quick gesture from his uncle made him subside. There was a decisive look in those cool gray eyes as the old man spoke.

  “Perhaps there is something you can do. Edmund, you say you still owe over a hundred pounds to those ruffians at Epsom?” Hambleton inquired as he jotted the names the boy had given him on a slip of paper.

  Josh knew the earl would have Michael investigate them as soon as this interview was over. Edmund swallowed, eyeing Sabrina uneasily as he nodded.

  “Excellent. Then the Russians know you're still desperate for money.”

  “But what does that matter?” Josh asked. “Zarenko knows the kid's been exposed. You had agents trying to catch him when I told you I'd found him.”

  “Quite,” the earl replied with a faint hint of a smile. “But if Mr. Whistledown here is half the actor you've given me to believe he is”—Hambleton nodded to Josh—“then he could slip into the Metropole and accost Nikolai Zarenko, insisting he's in dire straits and has some pilfered information for sale to the highest bidder.”