Sin and Surrender (3 page)

“That could have put you in grave danger,” Timothy said softly, looking over his shoulder as if someone might overhear them.

“I was not a traitor; I simply needed to know about these men who ran my life and set themselves up to judge other men, administering justice or punishment as they arbitrarily saw fit.”

“Paul—”

“I know the Council deliberately destroyed a man’s reputation and family, all to advance one of their missions.”

Timothy’s eyes narrowed. “What else did you hear?”

“Not enough to confront anyone, so do not concern yourself. The mission was apparently over and had been a success. Another traitor against the Crown identified.

And the only person who had to suffer was one man, his reputation, and then his very life. And you were there.”

With a sigh, Timothy said, “You know ‘tis not permitted to discuss assignments not our own. But let me say this.” He raised his voice to dissuade Paul’s protest. “You don’t know everything, and yet you feel free to judge in the same way for which you condemn the League.”

Paul stiffened. “I have enough evidence to satisfy me, the words of the Councilors themselves. The League may do good throughout the land, but there can also be a whiff of evil, when some men think they are accountable to no one.”

“We are accountable to one another, and it has served to check any grasp for power. But we are not infallible.”

“My brothers and I are the proof,” Paul said, feeling suddenly weary. “And before you ask, I never told them a word of what I heard.”

Timothy’s eyes widened. “Why not? You wanted to be free of the League, and you could have had the company of your brothers.”

“Nay, it would not have been that way. Adam was honored to be chosen from childhood for the League.”

“Trust me, he knows the League has failings.”

“Perhaps, but then … nay, ‘twould have hurt him, and I couldn’t do that. He had his own path to follow. And Robert … I am glad he has since found his way,
but then, he was always eager to enjoy himself. He did not crave the life I did, the adventure of making my own way.”

“Perhaps you acted as more of a father to your brothers than I did,” Timothy said softly.

Paul frowned. “I didn’t return to argue with you. I owe the League a debt, and will repay it. But do not bother pursuing forgiveness from me.”

Timothy nodded, his expression as tired-looking as Paul felt. “Very well. For this assignment, we will be as fellow Bladesmen only.”

Paul opened the door leading to the front hall. “Send for me when you need me. I’ll pack my things.”

“You will not need much in the way of garments. They will be provided for you.”

“Something extravagant, I imagine.”

“As befits a prince.”

Paul nodded and went out through the door. He looked over his shoulder briefly, but Juliana was not standing at the top of the stairs. He’d only imagined it.

T
he next morning, Juliana was sent to bring Paul to the League house. She rode her horse through Ludgate, the ancient western gateway to the city, and down Fleet Street until it became the Strand, following the Thames. Cramped houses gave way to palaces along the road to Westminster, each with its own access to the river.

She allowed her horse to walk, feeling no great urgency. It was early yet, and the heavy traffic of horses and carts, people and wagons streamed past her in the opposite direction to enter the city, not leave it.

This was her last day as herself. With her hair pulled back from her face, wearing a simple belted tunic, breeches, and a man’s hat, she attracted no notice. Most thought her only a boy about his master’s business. She liked giving people a different impression of herself, a skill she’d well mastered in her training, if Paul’s expression yesterday was any proof.

At first she’d been full of triumph that she’d caused
him to be momentarily speechless. The other men had been struck dumb as well, and she hadn’t liked that so much. She’d spent the past few years convincing them all that she was one of them, a talented recruit, more a Bladesman than Bladeswoman. No one had ever insisted she hide her sex; she’d simply felt she could do her work more effectively when unnoticed. She’d been trained to be a woman, even a sexually knowledgeable one, but seldom felt like one. It was only a part she played, not the real Juliana.

Of course she’d dressed as a woman on past missions, but nothing so openly carnal and sensual. It had felt awkward to inspire men’s lust, though she hadn’t shown that revelation to her fellow Bladesmen. She had no need to wonder what they thought of her. Her dedication was understood. She would take this new part in stride, playact and pretend to be one thing on the surface, and remain herself beneath.

At last she reached Keswick House, home of Paul’s brother, the earl. High walls surrounded the courtyard, but inside was a palace of windows cut into ancient walls. She knew the true beauty of the house would be facing the Thames, the main thoroughfare into London.

A servant gestured her into the entrance hall, with its dark paneling and display of the Keswick coat of arms. She expected to be led to Paul immediately, but instead was shown into a withdrawing chamber furnished with
a large table and enough chairs to seat thirty people. She didn’t think the servant even noticed that the chamber was occupied. Juliana stood awkwardly by the door and waited. Two women stood at one of the cupboards, putting away golden plate. Both were of much shorter stature than Juliana herself. One had brown hair, and moved with a limp as she stepped behind the other for another plate. The second woman’s hair was a mass of red curls in the August heat, and freckles dotted her face.

They glanced at her and hesitated. Juliana wondered why she’d been shown into a chamber where servants were busy working, but she did not ask questions.

They must have thought she couldn’t hear them, because one murmured to the other, “Paul felt certain they’d send a lady to fetch him.”

“He did say he was looking forward to it.”

These women called him by his Christian name; they could not be servants.

She swept her hat from her head and stepped forward. “My ladies, I am Mistress Juliana, come for Sir Paul, as he surmised.”

They froze, a plate half passed between them. Then the brown-haired one giggled, even as she set down the plate and wiped her hands on an apron. It was then that Juliana noticed the faint rounding of pregnancy.

“Mistress Juliana, do forgive me. Your appearance deceived me.”

“‘Tis that way often,” Juliana said ruefully.

“I am Lady Keswick, but do call me Florrie. I’ll call you by your Christian name as well.”

Shocked that she’d been so rude to the countess, Juliana sank into a curtsy that would have done her mother proud. “My lady, forgive my discourtesy.” She knew Lady Keswick was of high birth, the daughter of a marquess.

Lady Keswick reached for her hands and made her straighten. “Good heavens, Juliana, do not worry yourself. It seems we all misread each other. Do allow me to introduce my new sister by marriage, Mistress Sarah Hilliard.”

The redheaded woman grinned and openly looked Juliana up and down. “So you’re the lady Paul mentioned.”

Juliana glanced down at her garments. “It may seem difficult to believe it at the moment, but aye, ‘tis true.”

“Congratulations on being a member of the League,” Lady Keswick said, her voice full of admiration.

Juliana’s smile died a quick death. They knew?

“Oh dear, you know we shouldn’t speak such things aloud,” Mistress Hilliard murmured, nudging her ladyship with her elbow.

“But …” Juliana began haltingly, “your husbands should never have—” Then she broke off, realizing she was speaking of an earl.

“They had no choice but to tell us their secrets,” Lady Keswick said apologetically.

“Because
we
had no choice,” Mistress Hilliard added.

“Forgive me, but I do not understand.”

Lady Keswick smiled. “You see, I first met my husband, Adam, when he kidnapped me.”

Juliana blinked in surprise.

Mistress Hilliard said, “And I met Robert when he was assigned by the League to prove me a murderess.” She grinned. “And how are you connected with the Hilliard brothers?”

“I’m to be Paul’s concubine,” Juliana said, beginning to smile. “Although in truth, I will be his personal guard.”

The two women looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Oh, Juliana,” Lady Keswick said, wiping her eyes, “our men are never dull. I do not yet know Paul as a brother, but I cannot imagine he took the news well.”

“That I would guard him? Nay, he did not.” Juliana felt a stirring of anger again at his assumption that a woman couldn’t guard him, but put it aside.

“Come into the kitchens with us,” Mistress Hilliard said.

She took Juliana’s arm on one side, and Lady Keswick took the other.

“You can tell us about our husbands’ brother,” Mistress Hilliard continued. “You knew him for several months, I hear, where we have only known him for several days.”

Lady Keswick took up the tale. “Paul said he trained you, but my husband insisted that Paul thought he was hoping to prove his talent as an instructor by making you the best.”

Juliana grimaced. “Then he did not stay to do so, did he?”

The two talkative women were suddenly silent, even as they guided her down a corridor. The thought that Paul had had plans for her, and abandoned them, renewed her curiosity about why he’d so suddenly decided to leave.

And if she felt a touch of sadness, of concern that she’d done something to drive him away, she ignored it.

“I wish I had time to speak longer with you both,” Juliana said, “but we have work to do this afternoon in preparation for our leave-taking on the morrow.”

“We understand,” Lady Keswick said, taking a sudden turn into another corridor. “Then we shall bring you to Paul. He is training with our husbands.”

“They were quite excited this morn to face their younger brother,” Mistress Hilliard said, shaking her head. “Like little boys, they are.”

At last they opened a door that led out to a lush
garden. As they followed a gravel path, the ground sloped gently down toward the broad river, which Julian could glimpse between iron gates. But in a corner of the high walls, the grass had given way to dirt, and the three Hilliard men fought each other, all at once.

The two women on either side of her froze, and as swords slashed through air, barely missing vital body parts, she heard the women gasp or groan. Lady Keswick once even shielded her eyes.

The men—especially Paul—displayed a competitiveness that still surprised her among siblings.

He grinned when he would have struck a killing blow to Adam were he fighting an actual enemy.

“Well done!” Robert shouted, laughing at Paul’s triumph.

Adam glowered. “That is a fine move you’ve mastered. You must teach us.”

The two older Hilliards looked like duplicates of each other, both tall and dark, with the same cleft in their chin. Paul shared the cleft, but his coloring was much lighter.

At last the men glanced toward the women, and Juliana saw a softening in both Adam’s and Robert’s faces upon seeing their wives. But Paul only glanced impassively down her body, as if he thought she’d be gowned. She would be wearing such restrictive garments soon enough.

They sheathed their swords and came forward. Both Adam and Robert now looked openly at Juliana. Much as they had not lingered more than a few months at the League fortress after their brother had gone, she saw them often enough to feel an easy friendship.

Adam, the Earl of Keswick, gave her his winning smile. “Juliana, ‘tis good to see you again.”

“And you, too, my lord.”

He arched a brow.

“I must treat you as what you are in London, must I not?”

“No wonder we keep our real identities from each other,” Adam said. “This becomes too complicated.”

While she spoke to Adam, she found her gaze wandering to Paul. He had reached for a bucket, and even now lifted a dipper to quench his thirst. In the sun his hair shone, just as it had when she’d first been introduced to him, like a beacon of hope in her new life that day.

“I miss the gown,” he said to her.

The others stared back and forth between them with interest.

Juliana lifted her chin coolly. “Do not rush me into such confinement, Paul. I like my breeches.”

“I am surprised that you dress so when you are in London. People will talk.”

“Let them. They think I’m a boy most of the time.”

“With even a codpiece?” he shot back with faint sarcasm.

Lady Keswick gasped. “That is crude, Paul,” she said, though she spoke with only a lighthearted, chiding tone.

“What if little Francis had heard you?” Mistress Hilliard asked. To Juliana, she said, “Francis is Viscount Drayton, our ward until he reaches maturity.”

“Francis is a little man,” Paul said, grinning. “He understands about codpieces. Even Juliana does.”

She gave him a withering stare, knowing he referred to her taunt of yesterday.

“Come, Juliana, show me what else you know,” Paul said, walking backward even as he urged her with both hands. “You’ll be giving me my last rousing match for some time. Our small tiltyard awaits.”

It was hardly a true tiltyard, with no lists on which to practice jousting, no quintain to unseat an unwary knight. But she had her sword buckled at her waist, and she knew how to use it.

She pulled it from its sheath, causing Lady Keswick and Mistress Hilliard to step back, eyes wide. But she knew admiration when she saw it; these women would not disdain her for her talent.

She attacked at once, knowing that Paul’s size put her at a disadvantage. When they crossed swords high, she yanked on his elbow, throwing him off balance. He
grinned at her and sliced a deft cut out of the skirt of her tunic. The grin alone was enough to make her look at him twice. He was blindingly handsome, his blue eyes merry with intrigue and too much interest as he parried the moves she made. She began to wonder what was in store for her, being with him day after day—and night.