Conspiring with a Rogue (10 page)

Leave it to Sin to be utterly confounding. Whitney took a deep breath and prayed her voice would come out low and growly. “Beg pardon?”

“Do I appear to be any man’s puppet, Mr. Wentworth?”

As secretive as Sin always was about where he was going and what he was about, it was more likely he was a dangerous puppet master than a puppet. She shook her head. “No, you don’t seem the sort of man to dance to another’s tune.”

With a brief smile, Sin sat back and crossed his legs at his ankles and his arms over his chest. “What I’m about to reveal, I do in confidence. Should I ever learn you repeated one word of what I’ve said, I’ll introduce you to my friend Zeus.”

Fascinating
. In one afternoon, she was about to learn exactly how men acted when no women were around to curb their behavior. “Is Zeus a school chum?”

“This is Zeus.” Sin held up his right fist.

“Hmm.” What on earth did he expect her to say to such a ridiculous revelation? What would a man say? “Splendid,” she added, hoping it was the appropriate response.

That same right eyebrow her cousin always quirked to show his disgust rose into a high arch. She squirmed against the hard wood of her chair. Obviously adding “splendid” had been an unwise choice.

Sin’s gaze traveled over the length of her rumpled attire. “Don’t force me to violence. You have such a pretty face for a man. It would be a pity to permanently rearrange it for you.” His voice had become low, hard and dangerous.

He was threatening her.
Dear, merciful lord
. How had things become more complicated so quickly? “There is no need for unnecessary threats. My silence is yours.”

An easy smile flittered across her cousin’s tan face, his shoulders relaxed, and in one swift motion he removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves. His immediate transformation boggled her mind. He withdrew a deck of cards from his pocket and placed them on the table between them. “Sutherland sent me to show you the basics of
Vingt-et-un
so you’d not be overly embarrassed when he trounces you. He believes it likely you’ve never played the game, given your suggestion of chess as a means for solving the problem between you.”

Drake had always been far too insightful. She needed to be extremely careful around him tonight. How like him to worry about embarrassing Mr. Wentworth—a man Drake had no doubt he could beat. He was the only man she knew who could be kind and conceited in the same breath. “So you’re here to teach me the game, but Mr. Sutherland wishes for no one to know he took any pity on me. Is this correct?”

“Yes and no. Sutherland does pity you, but not enough to let you win. He just doesn’t care to make you a laughingstock.”

“Of all the arrogant—”

Sin shook his head and leaned in so close she could see the flecks of gold shimmering in his green eyes. “Sutherland’s not arrogant. I am. And because of my arrogance, Sutherland’s on the path to the Sainted Order.”

Whitney had never heard Sin admitting to a flaw in his entire life. For a moment, she sat stupefied. “Go on,” she finally managed.

“
I
thought to make him forget the woman he loves.”

Could her cousin hear the frantic beating of her heart? How could he not? The sound roared in her ears, making her thoughts whir. “I see,” she strangled out.

“You don’t see.” Sin raked a hand through his hair, his distress obvious. “I set him on this path because I’ve been searching for my cousin for six months with no trace of her. I thought to never find her, and I decided I knew better than him how to help him get over her.”

“How pompous of you,” Whitney snapped, irritated her cousin had wanted to help the man she loved forget her.

“Perhaps,” Sin admitted. “But Sutherland’s deteriorating condition is painfully obvious. And as I said I had thought to never find her. If I’d even had a glimmer of hope…”

Foreboding danced its way up her spine. “Is there a glimmer now?”

“That’s right.” Sin grinned. “I now have a clue as to her whereabouts, and if the silly chit has done nothing stupid, I mean to bring her back. I don’t think that poor sap Sutherland can live without her.”

Thank God she was sitting down. The room spun and darkness closed in before receding, leaving a splitting pain at the front of her head in its wake. She lifted her trembling hands to her temples and rubbed. Sin appeared too preoccupied with his own demons to notice her state of shock. What clue did her cousin have to her whereabouts? She frantically searched her mind but could not think what trace she might have left. With effort, she cleared her throat. “How do I fit into your plan?”

“I mean to teach you more than the basics of
Vingt-et-un
, Mr. Wentworth. My aim is to teach you how to cheat. You must win tonight and help me save my friend.”

Whitney cleared her throat. Her nerves jumped so badly, she had no idea how her voice would come out. “Let me see if I have the right of this.”

Sin nodded, one aristocratic brow arching high.

Just how far could her cousin raise that blasted eyebrow? Her palms grew damp as her nervousness mounted. She wiped them against her trousers but immediately stopped the motion. Sin was watching her every move. Gone was the arch. His eyes narrowed, and his gaze focused on her hands. He glanced at his own hands, then back at hers.

Her stomach flipped.

“You have very small hands for a man, Mr. Wentworth.”

She folded her arms across her chest and stuffed her hands under her armpits. “Is there a crime in a man having small hands?”

“No.” Sin cocked his head to the side as if he discerned something in her movement.

Immediately, she unfolded her arms and placed her hands in her lap. Let him think she had nothing to hide.

Sin’s gaze met hers. “Your hands are small,
and
they lack any scars. You have a woman’s hands.”

“Yet I’m a man,” Whitney managed to reply, surprised she could speak at all. She sat gripped with fear.

“So it would seem by the way you dress.” Sin’s gaze raked up and down the length of her body.

She bounded from her chair, strode to the liquor cabinet and poured herself a full glass of Madeira, the only liquor she recognized. She downed the glass and slammed it against the wood when she was finished. Should she swipe her hand across her mouth or belch for good measure? What would a man do?

She whirled around to face her cousin. The amused smile on his face told her she’d chosen wrong.

“Madeira is an interesting choice for a man.”

Blast her annoyingly blunt and perceptive cousin. She shrugged nonchalantly, though her heart beat fast. “I’m an interesting man.” Her cousin could go to the devil if he thought he was going to ruffle her.

“You are that.” Sin patted the settee. “Come and sit,
Mr. Wentworth
. I’m very sorry I offended you. It’s not often I encounter a man with such acute sensibilities.”

Whitney plodded to the cushionless chair, breathing slowly in and out in an effort to help calm her nerves and clear her thoughts. Her cousin was trying to bait her, and the last thing she needed to do was impale herself on his hook. “I do not have strong sensibilities.”

“No, of course not.” Sin sounded as if he was talking to a daft woman or a young child.

Did he know? If he did, wouldn’t he say so? She watched him as he strode toward her, but she could tell nothing in his face.

He moved the chair to her left so it directly faced her and sat. Without speaking, he shuffled the cards. The silence unnerved her. Finally, he looked at her. “I’ll show you the basics, but there’s no need for more than that. You want to look like I taught you the game, but all you need to remember is to watch my face. I’ll get a look at Sutherland’s cards, and then tell you what he has.”

Whitney almost folded into her chair with relief. Sin could not possibly recognize her beneath this disguise. He would never let her continue the charade if he did. With a shaking hand, she picked up one of the facedown cards. An ace. “How will you tell me what Mr. Sutherland is holding without him noticing or hearing?”

“Your hands are trembling, Mr. Wentworth.” A grim smile quirked Sin’s mouth, making him appear amused and irritated. An odd combination.

Whitney set the card down and brought her hands to her lap. “Cheating makes me nervous.”

“Does it? Well, then let the lesson be quick.”

It took only a few short minutes for Sin to show her that each of his fingers stood for a card. One finger for an ace. Two for a king and so on. Clever and simple. Maybe she would not lose after all. In no time, she was nodding her head in understanding. She could do this well enough for one night.

Sin stood, put on his coat and gave her a long, hard look before he started toward the door. He opened it, then paused and turned toward her. “You don’t happen to know anything about a tailor named Mr. Beaumont, do you?”

Whitney shook her head. Did her face reveal her shock? Mr. Beaumont was the only person, other than Sally, who knew her true identity—well, there was Audrey, but her betrothed hardly counted. Whitney licked her dry lips. “Are you procuring work for a man you patronize?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m merely inquiring. It seems Mr. Beaumont has a keen desire to bed my cousin, my
missing
cousin.”

Whitney didn’t bother to hide her astonishment. “Well, it shall be hard for Beaumont to bed a lady who cannot be found. I wonder at his gall of revealing such a desire to you. Does he still retain his senses?”

“I wouldn’t know. He didn’t reveal his desire to me. If he had, I might have shot him.”

Whitney had no doubt Sin spoke the truth. “How do you know he said such a thing of your cousin if he didn’t say it to you?”

“Come, Wentworth, surely the cits know how the
ton
operates?”

She ground her teeth. Sin was testing her―or rather Wentworth―again. “We cits have no idea how the
ton
goes about their daily lives, except they seem to care only for themselves and the pleasure they can obtain.”

Sin smiled wickedly. “So true. It seems Mr. Beaumont likes to seek his pleasure in drink. And he did so with a friend of mine who passed along the man’s comments regarding my cousin to me. My friend Dansby thought I might wish to call Mr. Beaumont out.”

“Do you plan to do so?”

Sin’s lips twisted into a harsh scowl. “Not for the moment, though his words are irksome. I find it interesting that the tailor, though I’m told he was quite in his cups when he reiterated his story, claims to have seen my cousin Whitney in a state of dishabille.”

Mr. Beaumont was a blabbering idiot. Revealing her true identity to the tailor had been a necessary but risky venture, one that was obviously a grave mistake. What else could she have done? She had to be outfitted as a man from her shoes all the way to her wig, and after a few subtle inquires, Sally had written that Mr. Beaumont was known for his discretion.

Whitney flexed her fingers and fought the urge to wring her hands. “Well, I hope Mr. Beaumont was at least kind in his description of your cousin.” She did not know what else to say or how to respond. Being a man was getting to be more and more of a strain.

“That’s the problem. He was too kind and too descriptive. I know my cousin. She’s an innocent, unless much has changed. Of course, she does seem to have the capability to destroy a man, behavior I’d never have thought possible of her.”

She swallowed her desire to defend herself. If only Sin knew why she had left, maybe he wouldn’t think so badly of her, but she’d never be in a position to enlighten her judgmental cousin. “Are you going to see Mr. Beaumont?”

“Right after you win tonight, I’ll pay the tailor a visit.”

Whitney yanked her fob watch out of her waistcoat pocket. She had to get out of here immediately. The vine-and-bird wallpaper closed in from every direction, sucking all the air out of the room. And the heat? It was insufferably hot. “You must excuse me. I’ve an appointment.”

As she tried to move out the door past Sin, he put his arm in front of her and barred her from exiting the room. “So who are we going to see today?”

“
We?”

“But of course. I’m a bored man in need of amusement, and you shall provide it.”

Her plan to see Mr. Beaumont and pay the blabbering imbecile for his silence crumbled under Sin’s steely gaze. He might not know she was Mr. Wentworth, but her cousin suspected something was not quite right. She would have to send Audrey in her place, immediately. Mr. Beaumont had to be paid for his silence before her cousin reached him. “I plan to spend time with my intended. I’d rather not have you accompany me, if you take my meaning?”

Sin’s eyes flashed, and she instantly knew her mistake. How careless to use one of her cousin’s favorite expressions. “If you take my meaning” did not prove anything, but it would further Sin’s curiosity of Mr. Wentworth―perhaps make him wonder if there was a connection between the investigator and herself.

“Pity. That doesn’t sound amusing for me in the least.” Sin dropped his arm and Whitney scurried out the door. “Enjoy your intended. I’ll be waiting for you at the club tonight.”