Tempting a Sinner (15 page)

He frowned. “Do you really think he has the power to harm you? He’s an old, sick man.”

“He’s . . .” She hesitated. “He’s still your father, and even though you are estranged at present, blood is thicker than water.”

“You think I’ll eventually side with him against you?”

“You might have no choice.”

“What are you planning?” He picked her up, displacing half the water, and turned her to face him.

“I’m not planning anything. How could I when you have Lady Westbrook and Niall monitor my every move?”

“Because I know you, and I know you are a tenacious creature who never gives up and can’t be trusted.”

“I am completely trustworthy!” she snapped.

“Not with me.” He touched her cheek. “Did you expect me to come after you, when you told me to my face that you didn’t love me and that our marriage had been a mistake?”

“You have it all the wrong way around. I told you that to make sure you didn’t follow me. I thought we were
siblings
.”

“So what is it? Perhaps you are the one who needs to let go of the past. Why can’t you trust me now?”

Her smile made his heart hurt. “Because I know
you,
and I have to sort this out by myself.”

“So there is something you’re not telling me.”

She put her hand over his mouth. “Stop this. Why can’t we enjoy what we have?”

He bit her hard. “And just fuck each other?” He stood up and dumped her back into the bathwater, creating an almighty splash. “Why not? I’ll go and tell Niall you’re staying the night. I’m sure we can get in a few more tumbles before morning.” He nodded at the fireplace. “There are warm towels over there.”

He wrapped one of the towels around his waist and left the bathroom before he either strangled her or got down on his knees and begged her to tell him what was going on. How
dare
she not trust him? He was one of the premier spymasters in England; thousands of people owed their lives to his integrity and ability to detect the traitors amongst them.

But, of course, Malinda wouldn’t care about that. To her, he was always his stupid eighteen-year-old self.

“Benedict.”

He turned and she was standing in the door, a towel clutched to her bosom. Her wet hair was over one shoulder. She reminded him of some exotic goddess with her endless legs and delicate bone structure.

“You aren’t being fair.”

“I’m simply trying to keep you alive and work out what is going on.”

“Which is very kind of you, but quite unnecessary.”

“It is necessary, I—”

She held up her hand. “If it truly is important to you, it begs the question of what you aren’t telling me. Isn’t it true that I’m not the only one keeping secrets, Benedict?”

“If I am forced to keep anything from you, it is because of the security of this nation.”

“Which means there is something you’re not telling
me
.” He slowly exhaled. “You’re talking in circles.”

“And you’re not?” She walked toward the bedroom. “When you want to tell me the
truth,
Benedict, when you choose to value
me
more than your blasted country, then perhaps I’ll be more inclined to be open with you.”

Before he could answer, she slammed the bedroom door so hard behind her that it shook.

He contemplated following her and putting her over his knee again, but resisted. He’d actually gained some information. She was up to something, and it definitely concerned his father. Was she still aggrieved by his treatment of her all those years ago, or was there more? He had to remember that her father had
died
in that ambush, and that she might have seen the perpetrators. He also knew that
his
father had been in his tent all that day and evening, entertaining other officers from surrounding regiments. She couldn’t have seen the marquis—could she?

M
alinda woke up to the rattle of a maid pulling back the curtains and offering her breakfast in bed. There was no sign of Benedict, but she’d hardly expected to see him after he’d left in a huff the night before. She felt a twinge of remorse for using his own honorable nature against him and accusing him of putting his nation before her. But she’d achieved her aim and gotten away from him before she gave any more information away.

Once he thought about it, he’d realize what she’d done, and he wouldn’t be happy. But she did have a point. He was obviously after
something
and hadn’t bothered to tell her what it was. At least she had a
reason
for not telling him what she was up to. She was trying to save him.

After she’d eaten her breakfast, the maid returned and helped her into her clothes, miraculously producing a new day dress for her to wear while the other one was cleaned. She went down the backstairs and into the kitchen, hesitating when she saw Benedict sitting at the table reading a newspaper.

“Good morning. Where is Niall?”

Benedict looked at her over the top of the newspaper. “He hasn’t come back. I’m going to escort you myself.” He folded the paper and stood up. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Yes.” She took his proffered arm and walked with him to the back door and out into the mews behind the Sinners. He was back to his usual stuffy self, which suited her perfectly.

It was a bright, crisp morning, and despite her silent companion, Malinda enjoyed the walk until they turned into Maddox Street and Niall came running toward them, his face blackened and the cuffs of his shirt singed.

“My lord!”

Benedict immediately pushed her behind him. “What happened?”

“The house was set on fire,” Niall croaked. “Someone threw a burning brand through the upstairs window.”

Malinda picked up her skirts and ran toward the smoke-damaged façade. A small crowd of people still stood around the building. Ignoring them, she looked desperately around. She gasped as someone caught her elbow in a hard grip.

“Don’t run away from me.”

“For God’s sake, Benedict, let me go. Where is Jenny?” She tried to pull away from him. “Where are Michael and Jason?”

“They’re fine. Niall got them out.”

She stared up at him. “Oh, thank God. I—” She turned her face against his shoulder and his arms came around her. “I thought—”

“It’s all right.” He smoothed his hand over her back. “I’ll make sure they aren’t inconvenienced by this any more than they have to be.”

She pulled away. “This is my fault, isn’t it? Someone wanted to harm me.”

“Or me.” His face was calm, his blue eyes arctic. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been targeted. Jenny and the boys are at the inn at the corner of the street. We’ll go and check on their well-being, and then I’ll take you back to the Sinners. I know you’ll be safe there.”

The inn was busy, and it took a while to work their way through the crowd of passengers boarding the mail coach and into the low-set building of the Kings Arms. Benedict insisted that Malinda stay between him and Niall at all times, and for once, she was quite willing to oblige him. The shock of the smoke-damaged building was a stark reminder that all was not well, and that her very presence was endangering those she cared about.

Someone elbowed her in the back, and she stumbled and felt a slip of folded paper slide into her palm. Even as she righted herself with the help of Niall’s hand, the crowd shifted again and she was moving into the shelter of the inn. She shoved the paper inside her glove and followed Benedict into a small parlor at the back of the inn where Jenny sat placidly drinking tea while the boys played.

“Oh, Jenny.” Malinda rushed to embrace her. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be silly, my lady. I’m just glad you weren’t home!” She smiled up at Niall. “I’m glad Mr. Niall was, though. He got me and the boys out in a twinkling of an eye and then went back to get all the things he thought I’d need.”

Niall was blushing and shifting from one foot to another.

“It was nothing, Mrs.”

Jenny went over and kissed Niall on the cheek, which made him turn even redder. “You were wonderful.”

“And he will be rewarded for his bravery,” Benedict added. “Are you truly all right, ma’am?”

“Yes, my lord. The boys were coughing a bit from the smoke, but they both seem fine now.”

“I wonder if you would like to leave London for a spell while the house is being restored?” He looked over at Malinda. “I believe you might be welcome at my country house, Alford Park.”

Malinda nodded. “She would, indeed, be welcome, as would the boys.”

Jenny sat down and lowered her voice. “Do you think it would be safer, sir?”

“I do. I’ll hire a carriage, and Niall can escort you.”

“Don’t be silly, sir. We can go on the mail coach.”

“No, I insist. It will be much quicker.” He reached into his pocket and took out his purse. “Niall will take you all out to get the tickets, replace your clothes, and get some toys for the boys.”

“You don’t need to do that either, sir, I’ve got my savings.”

“I don’t need to do it, Jenny, but I want to. Consider it as a gift from your grateful government.”

“Oh, all right, sir. But I’ll pay you back eventually.”

Benedict’s smile was a thing of beauty. “Thank you, Jenny.”

“If you need to go and arrange matters, my lord, I can remain here and write a note to my sister for Jenny to take with her.” Malinda paused. “Unless you think I should go with them back to Lincolnshire?”

“I’d still rather you stayed in London.” Benedict’s gaze rested on her for just a moment too long for comfort. “You may remain with Jenny as long as Niall is with you.”

She met his narrowed eyes and exuded trustworthiness. “I’ll stay in the inn until you return for me.”

He nodded and took off, leaving Jenny to offer Malinda and Niall some tea. After a moment, Malinda excused herself and went to the far end of the parlor where there was a writing desk. She removed her gloves, unfolded the small piece of paper, and read it.

I will be in the best parlor until two o’clock.

After checking the small clock on the mantelpiece for the correct time, Malinda opened the desk drawer, took out a sheet of paper, and found a pen. She concentrated on writing a short letter to Doris and Gwen, asking them to welcome Jenny and the boys. She didn’t reveal much else. It was better for Doris not to know anything that might put her in a flutter, but it was hard not to confide in her cousin. She assumed Benedict would expect her to be discreet, and it was in her own best interests to keep everything to herself.

“Niall?”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Can you ask the landlord if he has any sealing wax? There doesn’t appear to be any here in the desk.”

“Yes, my lady.”

While Niall was occupied, Malinda folded the letter and stood up. “I’ll just use the necessary, Jenny. Tell Niall I’ll be back in a moment.”

Jenny was busy adjudicating in a brawl between her two sons and barely nodded, leaving Malinda free to slip out of the room and find her way to the best parlor, Benedict’s purloined dagger tucked into the folds of her skirts. She knocked on the door and went in.

The woman sitting by the fire was heavily veiled, but there was no mistaking the gleam of her blond hair. Malinda sank into a curtsy.

“My lady.”

She waited as the Marchioness of Alford lifted her veil to reveal her beautiful face and the trembling pout of her small, childish mouth.

“I have a message for you from my husband. He requests your presence at Alford House.”

“And how does he expect me to honor his wishes when I am guarded by his son and the Countess of Westbrook?”

“I will send you an invitation to one of my ‘at homes’ this week. I will keep the countess occupied. You can speak to the marquis then.”

“You can’t want me in your house, and certainly not cluttering up your public drawing room.”

“Unlike you, missy, I do what I am told by my husband, and this is what he wants. I have no idea why he insists on seeing you, and I have no interest in knowing.”

Malinda took a step forward.

“Does it bother you that your husband told me that he was my father?”

The marchioness’s eyelashes fluttered. “He would never do that.”

“He did it to make me leave your son when I was seventeen.”

She shrugged. “Needs must.”

Malinda shook her head. “Poor Benedict. I would be happy to attend the marquis at your earliest convenience. Good day, my lady.”

She removed herself from the room as quickly as possible and went back to find Jenny and Niall. It might be painful to have to agree to do anything her former in-laws wanted, but at least it gave her access to the very man she needed to see and in a way Benedict would never know about if she was careful.

Niall was standing in the doorway looking about him, his expression anxious.

“Oh, there you are, my lady.”

Malinda smiled. “Did you find the wax? Thank you so much. Let me just seal up my letter, and we can be on our way.”

It was only as she and Jenny shepherded the overexcited boys out into the street that it occurred to her to wonder how the marchioness had known she was at the inn at all.

“This is not acceptable!”

Benedict stared down at Adam, who, since the departure of Jack Lennox, was now restored to his office at the Sinners.

“I agree. How do you suggest we proceed?”

Benedict paced the hearthrug, his hands behind his back. “Tie her up? Shoot her and chain her to a bloody bed, and see how she likes it?”

“Actually, I was thinking more of how we could
protect
her, but I’m willing to listen to any suggestion you think might work.” He paused. “I do wish you would sit down. You’re wearing a hole in my rather expensive rug.”

“I’m not in the mood to sit. Someone tried to kill my wife!”

“But they didn’t succeed.” Adam remained calm, his gray eyes steady and his posture relaxed. “And
because
they didn’t succeed, they are going to have to try much harder next time.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”

“Benedict, this isn’t like you. We will utilize all the resources of the Sinners to keep your wife safe. Surely that is enough?”

He took a deep breath. Adam was staring at him as though he were a strange being from another world. And in truth, he was acting like one, but the thought of anyone hurting Malinda . . .

“I’m going to move her in here.”

“That’s an excellent idea. We’ll increase the security around the perimeter and warn all our staff to be on their guard. Do we have any idea what the people who carried out this attack looked like?”

“I doubt it was my father throwing incendiary devices about, do you? Whoever is responsible probably hired some reprobates from the slums to do it for them.”

“And if we’re very lucky, we’ll gather information as to exactly who that was and ask them a few questions.”

Benedict took another hasty turn around the office. “Do you think I should confront my father?”

“With no proof of anything?”

“What if he wasn’t in his tent all that day and night? What if he was the one who led the assault and Malinda saw him?”

“If she’d known he was the one who’d killed her father at the time, do you think she would’ve remained quiet about it?”

“No.” Benedict sighed and sank into the nearest chair. “She would’ve gone for him immediately with no thought for her own safety or the consequences. She’s always had a terrible temper.”

“Then we can probably assume he wasn’t actually there.”

Benedict forced himself to speak. “But perhaps he orchestrated the whole thing?”

Adam sat forward. “Why would he need to do that? He was already a wealthy man. Why risk everything stealing that gold?”

“Even though the government started to take over the costs and the running of the regiment during the conflict, he’d already incurred heavy expenses.” Benedict sighed. “Pure vanity, of course. What man really needs his own private army in this day and age?”

“So he might have considered the payroll his own private compensation.”

“Yes.”

Adam steepled his fingers and stared at them. “The more important question is whether your wife thinks it is true. Is it possible that something her mother revealed on her deathbed made Malinda believe your father was to blame?”

“It’s possible, although I’m damned if I know what it might be.”

“If Malinda believes your father is responsible, what will she do?”

“Well, she shot me for simply visiting.” He groaned. “Perhaps we have this all the wrong way around and we shouldn’t be worrying about who is trying to kill Malinda and worry more about whom she is trying to kill.”

Malinda smiled at Lady Westbrook over the breakfast table. The gentlemen were nowhere in sight, and the servants had retreated to the kitchen, leaving the ladies to enjoy a leisurely repast.

“Faith, are you able to accompany me to the dressmaker’s this morning?”

“I certainly am. I have a dress to try on myself.” The countess took off her spectacles and tidied her vast heap of correspondence into a manageable pile. “Are you ready to go?”