by Gaelen Foley
Jack lifted the small, folded note off the silver tray, tipped the servant a shilling for his pains, and opened the letter.
Meet me outside.
Manuel de Ruiz
He raised an eyebrow at the imperious command, but when dealing with a trained assassin, he supposed he preferred the direct approach rather than a length of garrotte wire around his throat in a dark alley.
He turned in the doorway and glanced back at Eden. “Stay inside. Lock the door,” he ordered. He sent Trahern a sharp look, warning him to be alert; his firm nod ordered the lad to stay with the girls.
Jack went down to meet Ruiz alone.
A confrontation with the assassin-turned-diplomat had been inevitable, he supposed, but the fact that Ruiz had known where to find him meant that he’d been watching the hotel. By now, Ruiz had surely gotten a good look at Eden.
No mercy, he vowed as he walked out into the street to meet the killer in broad daylight, face to face.
Jack spotted the black-haired Spaniard leaning by the corner. He was tall and fit, well dressed. Ebony hair and aquiline features. It was no wonder he had become a killer for the king, Jack thought. The gallant pride of the Ancien Régime poured out of his every movement.
Jack marched toward him, undeterred by the traffic whizzing past. Piccadilly was as busy as usual, filled with the clatter of carriage wheels and prancing horses, people milling in and out of the fashionable shops.
Ruiz and he greeted each other with all the cordiality to be expected between two breeds of men with nearly three hundred years of sworn enmity between them: Spanish grandees and English privateers.
“Black-Jack Knight.”
“Well, if it isn’t my old friend,” he replied, resting his hands on his waist as he joined the Spaniard across the street from the hotel.
“You’re a long way from Jamaica, Lord Jack. What brings you to London?”
At least he got straight to the point. Jack smiled coolly. “What makes you think I’m going to answer anything you ask?”
“Ah, so you do have something to hide?”
“No,” Jack said as Ruiz feigned idleness, watching a pair of women walk by. “My presence in London right now has got no remote bearing on you whatsoever.”
“Are you sure about that?” The Spaniard slanted him a keen glance, trying to read Jack’s closed expression.
Jack folded his arms across his chest and fixed him with a steely stare. “Well, if you are so very interested, I’m here on business and to see my kin.”
“Ah, of course. Congratulations on your nuptials, my lord.” Ruiz raised his glance to the window where their suite was situated.
Jack’s stare turned razor sharp. “If I recall correctly, señor, your one redeeming trait was at least a shred of honor.”
Ruiz flashed a wolfish smile. “Thankfully, no larger than your own.”
“Women and children are off limits,” Jack said softly in warning.
“Of course they are.”
“Remember that. You have a family, too, I understand.”
“Do I?” Ruiz looked surprised.
“After our last meeting, I thought you might become a problem one day, so I took the liberty of doing a bit of research on you, Ruiz.”
“Como?”
“My spies informed me you have an old, widowed mother who lives in Sevilla.”
His eyes narrowed.
“My ships are very fast, Ruiz. Seville is only a few days’ sail from here.” Jack stared at him ruthlessly. “We don’t want any problems, do we? You stay away from my wife.”
Ruiz finally succumbed with a haughty nod and then cast his casual pretense aside. “I have been sent to London to discover Bolivar’s agent. Someone has been sent here to recruit soldiers to fight for the insurgents. We discovered the plot after our victory at La Puerta. I am warning you now that I am going to find out who this man is, and deal with him.”
“I see,” he replied. “And what’s that got to do with me?”
“You tell me, Lord Jack.”
“I don’t know anything about it. I told you, I’m here on business and to see my kin.”
Ruiz’s stare could have bored a hole in him. “You protected the traitors once before.”
“Aye, it was your arrogance that inspired me,” Jack retorted.
“What?”
“You listen to me, Ruiz,” he commanded, pointing a finger in the Spaniard’s face. “Jamaica is my home turf. Half the island’s in my pocket. How dare you come onto my island for the purpose of killing anyone without my permission? If you had shown respect and come to me,” he said, pointing to himself, in turn, “I might have just as well handed them over to you for the asking.”
Ruiz stared at him in incredulity.
Holding his shocked gaze, Jack lowered his hand to his side again, where his weapons lurked if he had need of them.
“Are you telling me you protected Bolivar and his men, and incurred the hatred of the Spanish Crown, simply out of your own…obstinate pride?”
“You’re damned right,” he said with a snort. “Call it obstinate if you want, but hell, you’re Spanish—you people know about pride. If a man has no pride, he has nothing.”
Ruiz arched a brow.
“Myself, I don’t give a damn about politics.” Jack eyed him with a cynical scowl. “Liberators, patriots—the lot of you can go hang for all I care. Profit is my creed. Ask anyone.”
Ruiz appeared genuinely taken aback.
Jack stared at him, hoping he looked every inch the cutthroat privateer he had been all those years ago, raising up his empire from one ship.
Ruiz, thank God, was being slowly reeled in, probably because what Jack had just told him was a half-truth rather than a lie. He wouldn’t have turned Bolivar over to the Spanish, but he had felt slighted and angry as hell that Ruiz and his men had dared come ashore without consulting him.
Pride alone had gotten him where he was in life.
The assassin studied Jack uncertainly, weighing his answer. “Do you know who the agent might be?” he asked at length. “I know you have always been well connected in this town.”
He shrugged. “Haven’t the foggiest, but if I did know, I can assure you, I’d make your king pay dear for the information.”
“Perhaps that could be arranged. If you hear anything, let me know.”
“Without delay,” Jack drawled, resting his hands on his waist once more.
Ruiz’s glance flicked to the window of their suite above just as Eden glided past. “She is beautiful,” he said in veiled menace. “You have good taste.”
“And good aim,” he added softly, tapping his fingers on the butt of the pistol by his side.
“So do I,” Ruiz responded.
They parted in bristling hostility, and Jack went back inside.
“Is everything all right?” Eden asked at once, straightening up over the tray of refreshments that had arrived.
He nodded. “Trahern.”
His assistant sketched a bow to the ladies and withdrew, joining Jack in the other room.
“Look. Ruiz is onto me,” he told him in a rather worried tone. “He’s going to be watching me like a hawk. I could go after him, but it’d be too obvious. He’ll have told the ambassador his suspicions about me by now. If Ruiz disappeared, I’d be the first man they’d come looking for.”
“Agreed.” Trahern shrugged. “I don’t think it’s necessary for you to get rid of him, anyway. He knows you, but I doubt he’s ever noticed me. You just tell me what you want done, and I’ll see to it.”
“Good man.” Jack clapped him on the shoulder. “Knew I could count on you.”
Trahern grinned. “Always.”
Jack went to pour himself a drink. “I’ll need you to take a larger role in bringing everything together while I distract Ruiz and whoever else may be watching.”
“Done. I have only one question.”
“Aye?”
“What’s in it for me?”
> Jack turned to him, lifting his eyebrows. “Why, Christopher! What’s this? Greed? Ambition? Self-interest? I am so pleased to see my wicked ways are rubbing off on you at last. It’s about bloody time.”
The lad shrugged, though his eyes danced roguishly. “I figure if I stick around long enough, you’ll give me a chance to make my fortune, so that I can take a wife.”
“Are you sure you want one? It’s harder than it looks.”
“That Amelia,” he whispered, nodding fervently toward the other room. “She is an angel.”
“She is very sweet,” he agreed, but couldn’t help chuckling. “You’ve known this girl all of five hours and you’re already thinking of marriage?”
Trahern snorted. “I’m sure as hell not going to wait to get married ’til I’m as old as you.”
“I am not old, ye cheeky little bastard. Ah, get going. You’ve got work to do.”
“I’ve got to say good-bye to Miss Northrop first,” he informed him, sauntering toward the connecting door.
Jack shook his head at him. Trahern went back into the sitting room and bid the ladies a more elaborate adieu.
A short while later, Jack took Eden aside and told her what had transpired, warning her about Ruiz and telling her that if she saw any black-haired Spaniard approaching her, she should not let him anywhere near her, but should immediately retreat to safety.
Jack believed he had stalemated any sort of threat to Eden from Ruiz, but an overabundance of caution was in order where his wife’s safety was concerned. Fortunately, as wives went, his was singularly able to ward off danger far better than most ladies, thanks to her sojourn in the jungle. It comforted his mind to know the chit could throw a knife as well as Ruiz could himself.
“Well,” Eden said, drawing him closer by the lapels of his waistcoat and giving him an arch smile. “If you are not going to go sneaking away tonight on your dark work, then you can have the privilege of escorting me and my cousin to a party.”
“Hm,” Jack said, his tone noncommittal. “What party?”
“This one.” She produced an invitation from behind her back. “It’s a supper and card party. Jacinda says it’s bound to be quite lively.”
“I see, so you’re going to learn how to gamble all my money away?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around her slim waist.
“Don’t worry. You’ll make more.”
“You are a minx,” he scolded, doting on her. He lowered his head. “Give me a kiss and it’s a deal.”
She did, pressing her satiny lips tenderly to his.
Soft as it was, it melted him. He gazed at her, half forgetting where he was, what day it was, all of life’s tiresome practicalities. But when she flashed a saucy smile as though amused by his wistful stare, he snapped out of it.
“Do you happen to know if my brothers are going tonight?”
“They are. I’ve already had a message from Jacinda and Her Grace, and Alice and Miranda, too. They’re all going, except for Alec and Becky. Jacinda tells me Alec won’t go near a card party,” she said in a musing tone. “The Strathmores aren’t going, either. Lizzie wants to stay at home with the baby and Lord Strathmore is hard at work on a bill he’s trying to push through Parliament.”
“You said the twins will be there?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he murmured, nodding. He intended to enlist them as his main allies, though his sister’s husband, Rackford, might also be useful as a guardian for his wife. Jacinda had shared with him in whispered tones the truth about her husband’s background, and it was arguably darker than Jack’s own.
“I’m so pleased that you asked if your brothers would be there, Jack,” Eden said with a warm smile, sliding her arms around his neck. “I knew, deep down, you really do care about your family.”
“You’re my family,” he whispered, “and the truth is, I have an ulterior motive.”
“You? Never.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to leave soon for South America, my darling.” He brushed a lock of her hair gently behind her ear. “I intend to rely upon my brothers to keep watch over my most precious treasure for me while I’m gone.” As he kissed her forehead, passion flared between them.
“Oh, Jack,” she breathed, tilting her head back to offer her lips. But as he lowered his head to accept, they heard Cousin Amelia moving about in the other room and, pausing, they stopped themselves.
Jack heaved a sigh that came from the depths of his being, released her before she could push him away, and then set out to prove that an all-around bastard could indeed play the gentleman when the occasion called.
For the next hour or so, he sat idly on the couch opposite the ladies as tea and cakes were served on the low table between them. Privately rather tickled by their chatter, he listened in companionable silence as the two lovely cousins eagerly discussed family news and village gossip.
Later that night, he took the ladies to the party.
While Jacinda taught Eden and Amelia how to gamble at genteel whist for a penny a point, Jack took the twins and Rackford privately into a quiet side room in their host’s large house, and revealed his quest, swearing them to secrecy.
He knew that Damien in particular was not going to appreciate the illegality of the mission, but out of all his brothers, it made sense to put the war-hero in charge of protecting Eden.
First, however, he had to tell his brothers where he stood.
“I realize Whitehall has recently issued a decree forbidding our veterans from enlisting in the Liberator’s army. A cowardly move, in my view. I believe this cause is just,” he said frankly, speaking from the heart. “The victory at Waterloo was all very well, but your idol Wellington put an incompetent king back on the Spanish throne, and the people of South America are the ones who must suffer for it. Now, I am going to get Bolivar the troops he needs to throw off the Bourbon tyranny. If our government calls this treason, so be it. I’m not asking you to get involved—I can guess how you feel about this. All I’m asking is that you keep my wife safe for me while I’m gone, for she is your sister now, and however much you may disapprove of me, none of this is her fault.”
“Of course we will, Jack,” Lucien said without blinking an eye.
Damien was silent for a moment, his arms folded across his chest. “I happen to know,” he said slowly after a long moment, “that Wellington would happen to agree with you about your cause.”
“What?”
Damien scratched his cheek and gave Jack a slight, rueful smile. “You heard me. Unintended consequences, Jack. We had to stop Napoleon. Spain going back under Bourbon rule was beyond our control. As I understand it, the Iron Duke would also like to see Bolivar win.” He nodded. “I will talk to him for you.
“Oh, I don’t know—” Jack looked at him in amazement. “Wellington supports the cause?”
“Not openly, of course. But we have become quite good friends over the years, and I am sure that at least he can make a few very pertinent suggestions.”
“I daresay,” Lucien breathed.
“Can he be trusted?”
“Jack, he’s Wellington.” Damien snorted. “He holds more sway in this city than the Regent does.”
Lucien clapped Jack on the shoulder. “And I’ll keep an ear to the ground for you in the Foreign Office. If I hear anything about your friend Ruiz or his plans, I’ll let you know.”
“What exactly do you do for the government, anyway, Luce?”
“Oh, it’s all very dull.” His silvery eyes gleamed like a blade.” I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details.”
Rackford spoke up. “I know a few lads in the rookery who control the gangs in Seven Dials. They might be able to send more men your way.”
“Excellent. My assistant, Christopher Trahern, is going to be handling that aspect of it. Make them aware of his name, will you?”
Rackford nodded.
After a round of brandy, they returned to their card-playing wives and surrounded their table, inad
vertently taking over the game with all of their husbandly advice.
“Billy, do you want to play in my stead?” Jacinda finally exclaimed indignantly.
“I’m just trying to help you with your strategy,” he replied.
“We’re only playing for fun, not to beat each other.”
“Speak for yourself,” Eden drawled with a mischievous grin, and Jack laughed.
As the days passed in sunny progression to the fullness of April, Eden found her daily life transforming literally into the stuff of her former fantasies—the ones Papa had scoffed at in the jungle.
She wore fabulous clothes. She had hordes of new friends.
She had found her own little niche of quasi-celebrity in the haughty Ladies’ Garden Club and Horticultural Society, thanks to her famous father’s botanical exploits.
At the first meeting, which she attended with Lucien’s wife, Alice, dozens of green-thumbed Englishwomen had listened with rapt attention and small sighs of envy as Eden had described her climbs into the canopy and her studies of orchids, palm species, and bromeliads.
Her informal discussions of torrid zone botany fueled a sudden craze for the building of private glass houses where tropical species could be raised under artificial conditions.
Eden was pleased to think that in her own, very small way, she had changed the face of London, for London had certainly changed her. Papa, if he had appeared then, might have wondered who the deuce she was.
She shopped, spending fortunes on frippery; she drove her dainty carriage through Hyde Park at the fashionable hour with Amelia by her side, a maid and footman to attend her. She thanked her husband with a kiss for buying her the Derbyshire mansion.
She and Jack, meanwhile, were becoming veritable social butterflies, for she dragged him around everywhere and though he was wont to complain on the way there and make a few choice, cynical remarks—at which she tried very hard not to laugh—he was obliging enough to escort her.
She did not miss the way other women looked at her husband at these events, nor did she fail to detect the ton’s subtle climate of adultery. Flirting with other people’s spouses seemed to be one main, unspoken purpose for all of the frantic socializing. This was an aspect of the beau monde she had not been expecting. Wasn’t anyone happily married?
