Conspiring with a Rogue (16 page)

Fitzroy stood, still staring toward the barrels before his brow finally relaxed and he turned, gathered the map and quit the cave. After a few moments, Drake rose in silence. Beside him, Rutherford toiled with something, objects scraping, and cursing filled the silence. Suddenly, light blazed in the cave, and a grinning Rutherford held up a torch. “I’m brilliant, as always.”

Drake glared at Whitney’s cousin. “Brilliant as a log. What the hell was the growling for?”

Rutherford offered a shrug as explanation.

The man’s lack of concern irritated Drake. “It’s lucky for us Fitzroy is a supreme idiot.”

“His stupidity was rather handy just now.”

“What are you doing down here?” Drake demanded. Clearly the man was not going to elaborate on his odd behavior.

“I might ask the same of you.”

“As I’ve nothing to hide, I’m happy to answer.” Silence met Drake’s subtle accusation. Drake let out an exasperated sigh. “I was looking for clues about a woman named Lillian. She’s disappeared, and Wentworth is looking for her.”

“Did you learn anything?”

“I think Cadogan may somehow be responsible for my ships that have been sinking.”

“Interesting. I’ve done a little investigating myself. A bet was placed two months ago on the book at White’s in which Cadogan wagered Fitzroy that within two weeks’ time he would seduce one Miss Lillian—”

“What the hell are you up to?” Drake demanded, his earlier suspicions that Rutherford might have employed Wentworth to find Whitney resurfacing. His question was met with stony silence. He took a step toward Rutherford, enjoying that he had a good two inches on the man, and glared down at him. “Exactly what were you doing sneaking around down here?”

“I was looking for you. I went to Mr. Wentworth’s home last night.”

“Did you employ the investigator to find Whitney?”

“Certainly not.” Rutherford chuckled. “That would be impossible.”

Drake opened his mouth to question Rutherford further, but a noise caught his attention. He motioned toward the cave entrance, and Rutherford nodded. Murmuring―or was that humming?―was coming from the distance. Dagger in hand, Drake moved toward the entrance, with Rutherford beside him, pistol drawn and his finger placed to fire.

A shadow appeared on the cave wall; then a figure stepped into the entrance. Drake lunged forward and grabbed the person.

A woman shrieked just as Rutherford raised the torch, throwing light on them.

Drake blinked in shock at the flaming redheaded siren he held. Amber eyes, wide with fear, gazed back at him. He glanced lower and stared in surprise. The woman’s sheer clothing left nothing to the imagination. Her perfect body molded against his and sent his mind in a thousand directions, every one of them wicked. His blood stirred as his desire, long dormant, awoke. And then the smell of roses surrounded him. His eyes started watering and his throat itched.

“Damnation!” He released her and staggered away, swiping at his now burning eyes.

“Watch out for the woman named Beth,” the lady whispered in a heavy French accent. “She means to trap you into marriage.”

By the time Drake lowered his hands from his burning eyes to question the woman, all he could see was her figure running in the opposite direction.

“I’ll get her,” Rutherford barked, and then he was gone too and Drake stood alone, confused and dying to know who the woman was.

The moment Drake’s warm fingers had curled around Whitney’s bare skin, her good sense seemed to vanish. She wanted unthinkable things.
Erotic things
. Extremely naughty things she had only read about in books.

She wanted them from him.

Now
.

On the dirt floor of the cave, for all she cared. Thank God, Sin had been there to break the ludicrous spell Drake always seemed to cast over her with his mere presence. She could not do unthinkable things with him, or even allow herself to be alone with the man, and that was why she had given him his warning and ran. Every second with him put him in danger.

When she came to a split in the tunnel, she stopped, winded with a pinch in her side. She leaned over with her hands on her knees and took deep, gulping breaths. Had she come from the left or the right? Footsteps pounded behind her. Wincing, she forced herself to stand, unsure which pursuer she feared more—the devil who had her heart or her bloodhound of a cousin? Either choice was bad. She had to get away from them both. Sin would be her undoing, and she would be the undoing of Drake.

Right.
She was sure she had come from the right path. Decision made, she ran as fast as her slippered feet would carry her, until she ran straight into a dead end. “Damn and blast.” She slapped the damp rock with her palm.

“You’ve developed a shockingly vulgar vocabulary since last I saw you,
Mr. Wentworth
.”

Her heart plummeted to her feet at her cousin’s words. He knew. Of course he knew. Nothing got by Sin. She had been foolish to think she could dupe him for long. Now, she had to be smart. She whirled around with her hands on her hips, unwilling to give anything away until she was sure. “Hello, Lord…?”

A torch illuminated between them. “Hello,
Whitty
. You may drop the act. I found your tailor
and,
you may remember from Sally’s house, I already met your betrothed.”

“Damnation,” Whitney said. If she was caught, she might as well enjoy shocking her cousin.

Sin’s gaze widened before a deep scowl marred his face. “Quite right, sailor mouth.”

“You got to my tailor before Lady Audrey, then?”

“We met there. She put up a grand resistance at first, but Lady Audrey has a soft heart under her bold act. Once I told her the sorry state you left poor Sutherland to dwell in, your betrothed was more than willing to provide the answers to the questions I had. It seems Lady Audrey is a fool for the possibility of true love.”

“She’s a fool, anyway.” Whitney was going to wring Audrey’s neck when next she saw her.

“I see becoming a man has made you uncharitable.” Sin shoved the burning torch he held at her.

With no time to accept or deny the offer, she gripped the torch he thrust in her hands. “I just imitated you,” she snapped.

Sin took off his coat and laid it across her shoulders before snatching the torch out of her grip. “You obviously are not Whitty tonight.” Sin’s gaze skimmed lower before he looked away. “
Lady
Whitney would never have such a sharp tongue, nor would she forget to wear her dress in public. You, madam, have forgotten to don appropriate clothing before stepping out of doors.”

Whitney snorted, shrugged out of his coat and tossed it back at him. “I find it amusing that you’re chastising
me
when
you
’re
a member of a secret sex club. This is how the women here dress.”

She fluttered her arms, the sheer material allowing the cool air to caress her skin and the bells sewn into her costume jangling with each movement. “This is what you have come to see and enjoy.”

“Not from you,” Sin growled. “You’re my cousin and a lady, may I remind you?” He stepped closer. “Perhaps you are not a lady, after all. What are you calling yourself tonight?”

“Jezebel,” she flung at him.

“How fitting,” he said with a snort. “Well, Jezebel, or Whitney or Mr. Wentworth—whoever the devil you think you are—all three of you are going home.
Now.”
He grabbed her arm and dragged her down the corridor.

“
Sin, please.” She dug in her heels to no avail. She was no match for her cousin’s strength. “Sin!” She gripped his arm and leaned all her weight away from him. He didn’t miss a single step. He kept going until they came to the split in the tunnel—the one where she had been
oh so sure
she had gone right. She had obviously been pretending to be a man long enough that she had assumed one of their most annoying traits. Men always believed themselves correct, even when it was obvious they were wrong. Looking now at the split, she sighed. The right tunnel offered nothing but darkness, but from the left, a light filtered through the gloom.

Sin stopped suddenly and faced her. “What were you thinking coming
here
? Playing a man? Abandoning Sutherland?”

“
I—”

“
Are you mad?” Sin interrupted rudely before even giving her a chance to answer his question. It was nice to know in her seven-month absence her cousin had not changed one bit.

She slapped her palm over his mouth before he fired another question at her. “I am not mad. I can explain.”

He peeled her hand away and quirked his eyebrow. “Excellent.”

“
Some
of it,” she amended.

Sin shook his head. “Unacceptable. You’ll explain all of it.”

Irritation at his high-handedness swept through her. “I’ll explain what I damn well feel like.”

“I see though you dressed like a man, you still think like a woman.”

Before she knew what was happening, her feet came away from the ground, and she was dangling over Sin’s shoulders, facing backward. “Sin!” She slapped him on the back. “Put me down. This is ridiculous.”

“I agree, but you force me to extreme measures. I’ll put you down when I have you away from this club.” He wound through the tunnels, jostling her as he went. “You stay here and you’ll lose your virginity, unless there is nothing left to lose.”

She gritted her teeth. “There’s plenty to lose, but it’s no concern of yours.”

“You’re my affair, cousin,” Sin retorted as he climbed the stairs she had crept down but a short while ago. “No matter how harebrained you act. Besides my duty to look out for you, I just so happen to like the man you’re destroying with your little adventure.”

How dare he think her so trifling, so casual and cruel to purposefully hurt anyone—especially Drake. “It’s not an adventure,” she seethed. “I’m searching for my missing friend, Lillian Lloyd, who was last seen here.”

“I’ll search for you.”

“Fine,” she said, surprising herself. That actually worked quite nicely. She may have failed to avoid an encounter with Sin, but she could still evade Drake. She could slip away, and Sin could gather the information. He seemed rather good at being sneaky, and he obviously could solve a mystery.

“You’re rather agreeable when hanging upside down. The blood pooling in your head must be making you think more logically—like a man.”

She gave him a hard pinch on his back. “Put me down.”

He swung her over his shoulder, and her feet hit the steps with a thud. “Anything else, queenie?” he mocked as he reached for the door handle.

“One more thing,” she hastily replied as she grabbed his arm.

“Only
one
more request? My, you
have
changed.”

She ignored his barb. “Make sure Drake heeds my warning about the woman Beth. Do not let him bed her. She means to trap Drake into marriage.”

“What the blazes are you talking about? Drake is going to choose no one. I’m going to go find him and tell him to come with us. He’ll want no other woman when he realizes you’ve returned.”

A legion of alarms rang in her head. “No, no. You misunderstand. Drake can’t know I was here.”

Sin nodded. “Good point. I’ll think of some excuse to get him away, and then when we’re at your home, you can come show yourself, simpering and apologetic, of course. If he knew you had impersonated a demirep, he would be furious, and he might even want to kill Cadogan. I’ve no wish to stand as a second for Sutherland. I doubt he’s a good shot.”

“He’s excellent,” she replied, wishing her life was not so complicated. Sin was not understanding anything. “You have missed my point. I can’t go back to Drake. He can’t ever know I was here or that I am Mr. Wentworth.”

“You mean
were
Mr. Wentworth.”

She sighed. “Am. I am Mr. Wentworth, and I shall remain the investigator. I had to temporarily put him away, but he will be back out the minute I leave here.”

Sin stared at her as if she had suddenly sprouted two extra heads. “I don’t see how you can marry Sutherland while pretending to be a man.”

“I don’t mean to marry Drake. Nor do I want you to ever reveal that you saw me. Once Lillian is found, Mr. Wentworth shall be dead to you. Do you understand?”

“Hell, yes, I do,” Sin snapped, gripping her arm in a vise. “You mean to flee into oblivion and leave your family and the man who loves you to mourn you. Whatever drove you away can’t be that bad. Tell me, and we can solve it.”

“You can’t,” she whispered, though she wished to God he could. That would mean changing Drake’s very nature, impossible as changing what set this mess into motion. She could not alter the fact that Lady Blightson held her responsible for her son killing himself because Whitney had freed her sister from the guilt that had kept her from breaking off the engagement with the man. Nor could she change Drake. The devil would repent on bended knee before Drake ever asked for or took help from anyone. Nothing could be changed. She sighed at the depressing thought.