Elizabeth Powell (10 page)

Shaken, Captain Tremayne insisted that Admiral Locke had given him those orders. The mission was so secretive that Locke commanded Tremayne to destroy the orders after he had read them. He did so, even kept the details from his own crew, but he had duly recorded the mission in his ship’s log. To his shock and dismay, he discovered later that this particular page of the log had been cut out. The Admiralty had no record of this mission, and Locke denied giving Tremayne those orders. Everly scowled at the memory. Tremayne had not impressed him as a man capable of treason, and the circumstances surrounding the missing orders seemed suspicious at best. Everly had wanted to begin an investigation to uncover more details, but unfortunately his fellow captains were not inclined to be so generous. After much debate, Everly had to concede the likelihood of Tremayne’s guilt; the evidence against him was overwhelming, and the man had nothing tangible to offer in his defense. The tribunal found him guilty of treason, and he was hanged the next morning. Naval justice was nothing if not swift.

Everly rubbed his jaw. Locke had been involved in that incident, and was now suspected of treason himself. The “Lion of the Mediterranean” might well have framed Captain Tremayne for his own crimes, but why? Had the captain discovered something shady about Locke, forcing Locke to resort to drastic measures? That had all happened over a year ago—had Locke’s treasonous activities gone unchecked for so long? If so, Captain Tremayne was not the only victim of Locke’s despicable doings. Everly’s thoughts returned to the poor woman in the street.

Everly glanced toward the open door of the study. Why hadn’t St. Vincent made the connection between Tremayne and Locke, and realized the link between their
investigation and this girl’s appearance? He stared into the amber depths of his brandy as if to divine the answer. St. Vincent had never approved of Captain Tremayne’s liberal politics and reformist tendencies; would he let that prejudice blind him to the truth? It seemed so. Perhaps Locke had counted on that reaction.

Heavy footsteps heralded St. Vincent’s return. “My apologies, Everly,” he grumbled. “Poor form to fly off the handle like that.”

“No apologies are necessary, my lord,” Everly replied. He swallowed the last of his brandy and set his glass aside.

St. Vincent stood before the hearth, breathing heavily. He mopped his forehead with his kerchief. “Captain Tremayne’s chit thought I would help her exonerate her father. Of all the cheek! You sat on the man’s tribunal, didn’t you, Everly?”

“Yes, my lord.” A muscle twitched at Everly’s temple.

“Shameful. Utterly shameful. But I sent her packing.” St. Vincent wandered to the sideboard and uncorked the decanter of brandy for himself.

Everly felt another pang of sympathy for Miss Tremayne. It was one thing for a hardened sailor to withstand the force of St. Vincent’s anger, quite another for a member of the fairer sex to do the same. “Your pardon, my lord, but I must take my leave. I must attend to a few other matters before my meeting with Lord Carlisle.”

“Eh, just so. I won’t delay you any longer.” The old admiral set the decanter aside, unopened. “I wanted you to know that I am making inquiries at the Admiralty about another command for you. Don’t get your hopes up, Everly. I am an old man, and my influence is not what it once was.”

Everly smiled. “Thank you, my lord. I appreciate your efforts on my behalf.”

St. Vincent harrumphed. “Mind you, you won’t be seeing another ship at all if you don’t bring me that traitor’s head on a platter. Keep me apprised, my boy.”

“Yes, my lord.” Everly drew himself to attention, then
departed. In the foyer, he recovered his cloak and hat from Parkin, whose frazzled expression took Everly by surprise. Something had penetrated the servant’s reserve at last, but it had taken an embarrassing fracas to do it. Everly murmured a polite farewell before he stepped out into the brisk autumn air.

The young woman and her escort still stood by the curb, embroiled in a heated argument. Everly could hear their raised voices quite clearly. So could everyone else who passed by; the pair were garnering more than their share of curious and disapproving attention, but neither appeared to notice. Everly could not help but overhear as he descended the steps.

“Happiness doesn’t matter for me, Harry,” the woman claimed, “no matter where I live. My father is dead, my mother is dead, my family name is reviled, and there is nothing I can do about it.”

The lieutenant said something else, but Everly paid no attention. He stopped dead in the water. That voice—he knew that woman’s voice. It belonged to Mrs. Seagrave, his mysterious and alluring widow from Locke’s ball.

As he approached the pair, the young lady looked up. Shocked recognition crossed her delicate features, and she didn’t bother to hide it. All traces of color fled her cheeks. Small wonder. In all likelihood she had thought she’d never see him again. Everly allowed himself a thin smile of satisfaction. She may have taken pains to disguise her name, but she could not disguise her appearance. Dowdy clothes and drab colors could not conceal those lush curves, nor could that ridiculously oversized bonnet hide her delicate features and delectable full lips. His groin tightened.

She stared at him as though he were a ghost, her eyes huge pools of velvety brown. “C-captain Everly!” she sputtered.

The young lieutenant turned, spied Everly’s gold epaulets, and immediately stiffened to attention. He touched the brim of his bicorne in salute. “Sir.”

“Lieutenant,” Everly acknowledged. His eyes swiveled
like gun sights back to the lady’s pale face. “Miss Tremayne.”

He did not think it possible, but she turned paler still. Everly tamped down his urge to interrogate the girl then and there. He could not start barking questions here on the street as if he were on his own quarterdeck. Even he had learned discretion over the years.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Miss Tremayne,” he said quietly.

The lieutenant scowled at Everly and stepped in front of his companion. “With all due respect, sir, I do not think it proper that you have any contact with Miss Tremayne. You’ve done enough to her and her family as it is.”

Everly raised an eyebrow at the youth. “Are you a friend of the family, Lieutenant?” His own officers knew to tread lightly when he used that particular soft, dangerous tone, but the lieutenant plowed on, oblivious.

The young man’s chin came up. “I am, sir.”

Irritation grated against Everly’s patience; he did not have time to mince words with this overprotective stripling. He knew from experience that the lady could take care of herself. “Tell me then, Lieutenant—were you friend enough to escort Miss Tremayne to Admiral Locke’s ball last week?”

Miss Tremayne shot Everly a guarded glance.

“I was, sir,” the lieutenant replied with undisguised hostility.

“Indeed.” Everly ignored the young man’s belligerent stare, focusing instead on Miss Tremayne’s ashen countenance. Questions ricocheted through his mind. This youth was a newly minted officer; the white facings on his jacket showed not a smudge of smoke, tar, or gunpowder. Had Miss Tremayne recruited him into her little plot? Everly thought not. The youth’s misguided chivalry and outraged bluster suggested that he was too honest and forthright for spying.

Which brought him back to his primary focus: what the devil was this chit doing in Locke’s study? She had every right to loathe Locke as much as she loathed Everly
himself; he knew now why she had run away from him at the ball. Yet he had to consider that she might have a part in this treasonous conspiracy. His instincts told him she did not, but he wanted to hear the truth from her own lips. Her own very luscious, rosy, kissable lips.

Everly shook himself. Miss Tremayne had lied to him, run from him, and nearly planted him a facer worthy of Gentleman Jackson. And now all he wanted to do was kiss her. Their collision in the garden must have addled his wits.

A carriage drew up to the curb, to the lieutenant’s obvious relief. “If you will excuse us, Captain, I must see Miss Tremayne home.”

“A moment,” Everly interjected. “Miss Tremayne and I have some unfinished business.”

“I have nothing to say to you, Captain,” the lady said in clipped tones. She wrapped herself in her mousy brown cloak as if the drab garment provided protection against his presence.

He smiled, and tried his best to make the gesture reach his eyes. “I would like to continue our discussion of the other evening. Admiral Lord St. Vincent is my patron, and has employed me on a matter of great importance. I believe you might be able to help me.”

“Help you?” Her reply carried a wealth of disbelief. “Why should I help you, after what you’ve done to my family?”

Everly leaned closer to her, an almost conspiratorial pose. “Because we both seem to want to know what is in Locke’s study.”

She started. The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. “Very well,” she agreed.

Everly wrenched his attention away from that lovely mouth. He straightened up and motioned to his own carriage, which had just pulled up ahead of the first. “I will be very happy to see Miss Tremayne home, Lieutenant. Surely you have other duties which require your attention.” This time he made sure his tone was that of a captain who expected his orders to be obeyed.

The lieutenant hesitated.

Miss Tremayne laid a reassuring hand on her companion’s arm. “It’s all right, Harry. I’m sure that Captain Everly will see that no harm comes to me. I will see you later.”

“Are you certain of this, Amanda?” The lieutenant hovered by her side, glaring daggers at Everly.

She gave a tiny nod. “I’ll be fine.”

The younger man made a strangled sound of disagreement.

“I would hate to make your departure an order, Lieutenant,” said Everly quietly.

“Sir.” The lieutenant snapped to attention, sullenness exuding from every inch of his lanky form. He shot one last worried look at Miss Tremayne, then climbed into his own carriage.

Everly watched him depart. How was that young officer involved in all of this? Such protectiveness was usually found in brothers, fathers—or lovers. A hot spurt of something that felt suspiciously like jealousy shot down Everly’s spine. He scowled. Why should he concern himself with Miss Tremayne’s amours? Bad enough that he could barely keep his eyes from her. Angry with himself, he set a tight clamp on his emotions and hoped it would endure at least for the duration of their conversation.

He bowed stiffly and gestured to the open carriage door. “After you, Miss Tremayne. We have a great deal to discuss.”

Amanda ignored the hand Captain Everly offered her, avoided looking at him as she climbed into the coach. As much as she tried, she couldn’t fathom his mood. One moment he seemed perfectly agreeable, the next hard and wooden, almost angry. She peeked at him from beneath her lashes. At the moment, sitting across from her in his uniformed splendor, he was unreadable. Impassive. She sighed.

The soft sound caught his attention; Amanda found herself the focus of the captain’s intense blue eyes. She
fought the urge to squirm in her seat. Suddenly the view from the carriage window was very appealing.

“I realize now why you were so shocked to learn my name, Miss Tremayne,” he said, breaking the awkward silence. His rich baritone sent tiny shivers across her skin. “And why you ran away from me.”

She spared him a curt nod, disturbed by his nearness in these close confines. She was reminded too much of the alcove.

“Although what puzzles me most,” continued Everly, “is what you were doing at Locke’s ball in the first place, and under an assumed name.”

Amanda wrapped her arms close to her body and clamped her mouth shut. This man helped convict her father on false charges. She did not owe him an answer or an explanation.

He persisted. “Did it have anything to do with your father?”

Amanda could not help herself; her head twitched in Everly’s direction. The captain noted her reaction and relaxed back into the padded squabs.

“It does, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“Even if your guess is correct, Captain, my affairs are none of your concern.” Amanda concentrated on the scenery passing outside the windows, for the look in Captain Everly’s eyes, blue as the Aegean Sea, made thinking difficult. Botheration. She was mooning over this man like a lovestruck widgeon. He was the enemy. He was dangerous. She must remember that.

“Your affairs do concern me,” Everly countered, “especially where traitors are involved.”

That got Amanda’s full attention. “Are you accusing me of treason, sirrah? The apple does not fall far from the tree, is that it?”

The captain smiled a small, infuriating smile. Amanda uttered a little gasp of indignation, then shut her mouth with an audible snap. The man seemed to know just how to provoke her.

“I admire your pluck, Miss Tremayne,” he chuckled. “Your outrage rings true.”

Amanda forced her reply through clenched teeth. “From what I know of you, Captain, you do not know truth when you see it.” The captain took her meaning exactly as she’d intended; she was gratified to see his amusement evaporate.

His eyes narrowed. “I can understand our reluctance to confide in me, but I was sincere when I told you that you might be able to help me.”

She slid a sidelong glance at him. Once more, his face was unreadable. “And how is that, Captain? Why would you need help from a traitor’s daughter?”

“There is treason afoot in the Admiralty, and I have been commanded to expose the traitor.”

Amanda sat in stunned silence for a moment. “You work for the Crown?”

“Just so. And Admiral Locke may be the key, and I suspect he is connected to your father’s conviction, as well. Now you know why I am so interested in your presence at his party.” Everly leaned forward and propped his hands on his knees. “What were you doing there, Miss Tremayne? Why were you in Locke’s study?”

She bit her lip, consumed by silent speculation. A traitor in the Admiralty. So Locke wasn’t working alone. That would explain why there was no record of her father’s mission. Whoever the traitor was, he and Locke had conspired to eliminate her father. What confused her most was that Captain Everly was working against Locke, not for him. Had she been mistaken in her estimate of his character?