Texas Viscount (33 page)

      
The barb struck home. Josh winced. “Now, that's a downright nasty remark. I've never used you for any reason, Sabrina, but this isn't the place to palaver on that.”

      
Once again, Edmund interposed himself between his cousin and the tall Texan. “I say, you may be a viscount, sir, but you cannot address my cousin so familiarly.” He swallowed hard. “I shall be forced to take measures—”

      
“Oh? What measures would those be?” Josh asked, skewering the skinny youth with cold green eyes as he revealed his Colt Lightning concealed in a shoulder holster.

      
“Stop picking on poor Eddy, you great Texas bully,” Sabrina said, planting her hands on her hips as she stepped menacingly toward the viscount.

      
Edmund placed a restraining hand on her arm. “I say, Coz, as your only male kinsman present, it is incumbent upon me to—”

      
“Shut up, Eddy!” both Sabrina and the aggrieved viscount yelled in unison.

      
Edmund nearly swallowed his tongue.

      
“Come on, let's go,” Josh said, ignoring the boy as he shook his head at Sabrina. “We'll sort this mess out, and then I'll decide what to do.” With that, he signaled a hansom driver who had just turned into the alley, and the vehicle lumbered to a stop, narrowly missing the side of the butcher's wagon. Josh opened the door and indicated they should climb aboard.

      
“Only if you promise to give us a full and impartial hearing,” Sabrina said stubbornly.

      
“I've never been able to be impartial about you, darlin’,” he murmured. “But I'll listen to the boy's story.”

      
Grudgingly she allowed him to assist her into the coach, unconsciously noting how polished his physical manners had become, even if his vocabulary remained sadly lacking in social graces. Edmund jumped aboard like a frightened jackrabbit.

      
Josh gave directions to the driver and then joined them. As the hansom rumbled down the street, he leaned back, stretching his long legs in front of him, brushing the side of Sabrina's skirt as she perched on the seat across from him with her cousin at her side. “Now, begin at the beginning. And this better be good,” he said, affixing his most daunting Texas glare on Whistledown.

* * * *

      
Natasha Samsonov reclined on a fainting couch, languidly sipping vodka with ice. Normally she preferred not to dilute her liquor, but last night she'd foolishly overindulged and this was the price she had to pay. She had a performance tonight, and if this did not relieve the damnable ache pounding in her temples, she doubted she'd be able to go on.

      
At least the servants had finally finished fussing over the inferior furnishings in this wretched English hotel and left her in peace. If only that equally wretched Englishman would do the same. Just thinking of him made her take a deep swallow of vodka. A pity no one ever witnessed her greatest performances, pretending to be madly in love with that fool. He was even more repulsive than Albany's son; but since that source had been discovered, they'd been fortunate to find someone even closer on the inside to feed them information.

      
Her hopes for the Texas viscount had been dashed as well. He could have been ever so entertaining, but he turned out to be quite impossible. No man had ever dared speak to her the way he did! And all over some silly horseless carriage. Once their mission was accomplished, the czar would reward her. She would buy herself one of those German vehicles and race it across Saint Petersburg!

      
Her pleasant reverie was interrupted by a rap on the door. That would be her tiresome brother here to lecture her about last night. As her maid admitted him, she finished her drink and set the glass discreetly behind the couch.

      
Nikolai Zarenko stormed into the room, his lip curling with disgust as he looked at his sister's pale face and bloodshot eyes. “They nearly captured me, we had to risk our best assassin to silence Vassily, and all you do is drink! How did this happen? I believed you when you said the old fool was besotted with you.”

      
“He is, Nicki, he is,” she said, wishing he'd lower his voice but knowing that if she pressed him, he'd only yell louder to punish her.

      
“The information he gave us led me into a trap!”

      
“All the better we arranged things as we have, but I am certain he did not deceive me on purpose. After all, if he did, he would risk exposing himself...and losing me,” she said, running her fingers through her waist-length black hair and twirling a curl idly about her fingers. She shuddered in revulsion, thinking of what she would have to do to get the information they needed.

      
“We have only a few days before the treaty is signed. You must learn when and where Hayashi will really arrive. There is no time for another blunder,” Zarenko said darkly. “That treaty must not be signed, and the English royal family must be disgraced!”

      
Natasha sighed. “I know, Nicki, I know. Finding out about the Japanese minister's arrival will be simple. Allowing that pig to rut on me is the difficult part.”

      
“You could always close your eyes and pretend he's your virile Texan, not an inept old Englishman,” her brother said nastily as he pivoted and walked through the door to his suite.

      
She threw the half-full vodka bottle at him but hit the closed door instead.

Chapter Sixteen

      
The earl decided that bringing Sabrina and Edmund to the city house might alert Russian agents that the jig was up. Instead, he smuggled them into a private room at his club, the only way acceptable for a lady to set foot on the premises. The very old-school men's club reeked of masculinity. The walls were covered with dark green paper and the woodwork was dark teak. The furniture was massive, and the paintings on the walls, all of hunting scenes, were outnumbered by pieces of antique armament.

      
Josh sat in one of the large leather chairs across from his uncle as Sabrina and her cousin laid out the details of how Edmund had come to be duped by the Russians and an English traitor in their midst. Hambleton's face remained expressionless as Sabrina prodded Edmund and elucidated when he was unclear. Whether or not the earl believed them, Josh had no idea.

      
I'd hate to play poker with him.

      
When they had finished talking, the old man leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk and steepling his fingers, deep in thought. “Very interesting,” he ventured at length as the silence in the room thickened.

      
Josh could sense the old man's mind working as Edmund fidgeted nervously in his seat. Damn fool kid was acting guilty. Then again, for all Josh could tell, maybe he
was
guilty. On the other hand, Sabrina sat perched on the edge of her seat, back ramrod-straight, as cool as if she were serving tea for a deportment pupil. But he could see in her eyes that she was afraid for the boy.

      
“If someone at the Foreign Office or in your establishment is guilty, what better way to cover himself? Whistledown is a natural-born sucker,” Josh ventured.

      
At that insult, Sabrina turned angrily in her chair and glared at him. “That is most unkind.”

      
A grin tugged at his mouth. “But you didn't say it wasn't true.”

      
Edmund merely hung his head in red-faced misery.

      
“I think it's monstrous that we've been drawn into this—this conspiracy under the basest pretenses,” she said, addressing the earl. “We've been lied to and duped and made to look like fools. How can we prove to you that we're innocent?”

      
Josh knew she was really speaking to him. Did she actually believe he'd made love to her because he wanted to lure her cousin into a trap? He started to protest, but a quick gesture from his uncle made him subside. There was a decisive look in those cool gray eyes as the old man spoke.

      
“Perhaps there is something you can do. Edmund, you say you still owe over a hundred pounds to those ruffians at Epsom?” Hambleton inquired as he jotted the names the boy had given him on a slip of paper.

      
Josh knew the earl would have Michael investigate them as soon as this interview was over. Edmund swallowed, eyeing Sabrina uneasily as he nodded.

      
“Excellent. Then the Russians know you're still desperate for money.”

      
“But what does that matter?” Josh asked. “Zarenko knows the kid's been exposed. You had agents trying to catch him when I told you I'd found him.”

      
“Quite,” the earl replied with a faint hint of a smile. “But if Mr. Whistledown here is half the actor you've given me to believe he is”—Hambleton nodded to Josh—“then he could slip into the Metropole and accost Nikolai Zarenko, insisting he's in dire straits and has some pilfered information for sale to the highest bidder.”

      
“You mean, something he swiped from you himself before he turned tail and ran?” Josh asked, seeing the possibility.

      
Sabrina, who had already thought of the same ploy, cleared her throat and said, “With half the government searching for him, it would be more believable if he were to appear in disguise.”

      
The earl nodded to her. “Capital, my dear young lady, capital.”

      
“S-Sabrina, I'm not sure I could—”

      
“Nonsense. You can and you will,” she said firmly.

      
“Just think of it as another act to wheedle money from your cousin,” Josh suggested innocently, even though his remark drew a sharp look from Sabrina. Edmund, docile as a lamb, nodded but said nothing.

      
“Quite,” Hambleton agreed, fixing the young man with a level gaze. “Now, here is what you shall do...”

* * * *

      
Sabrina watched as Edmund climbed down from the hansom in front of the Metropole. Twilight was near, adding a vague sense of menace to the already foggy, drizzling day. If she had not watched Michael Jamison disguise her cousin, she might not have recognized him herself—until he began to speak, of course. He wore a blond wig and neatly trimmed chin whiskers, which blended convincingly with his pale complexion and light blue eyes. Small wire glasses perched on his nose, and his emaciated body had been padded to add the appearance of another thirty pounds.

      
Everything depended upon his ability to convince Zarenko that he had been able to steal an itinerary for the Japanese minister from Lord Hambleton's office before he had escaped one step ahead of British agents. It was quite apparent that the Russian conspirators already knew about the earl's position vis-à-vis the Foreign Office and that the British wanted to apprehend Edmund. But could her young cousin act well enough to fool Zarenko after the earlier assassination trap had failed?

      
She was forced to admit that Eddy certainly had done a superlative job of deceiving her. Just as Josh had. No, she must not think of that now. It hurt too much despite his protests. How on earth could he expect her to believe that his attraction to her had nothing to do with the assignment given him by his friend the American president? She was twice a fool if she thought he had seduced her because he found her beautiful and desirable. Her conscience had been stricken enough when she admitted to herself that she was willing to settle for an illicit affair.

      
After all, she was in love with the bounder.

      
That might have mitigated her guilt if he'd had no ulterior motives for making love to her. Now, however, she felt used and shamed. The worst of it was that this time the pain was ever so much greater than it had been with Dex. That was the final irony. No use mulling over something she could not change, Sabrina reminded herself. Edmund was in harm's way tonight, and he had to be her primary concern. Once this whole tawdry mess was cleared up, she would use the funds the earl had promised her to open her school and get on with her life.

      
Still, a niggling uneasiness plagued her as she rode back to her quarters. The plan was for Edmund to wait in the lobby tonight and approach Zarenko, whose name he supposedly did not know, insisting that he had come to the well-known residence of expatriate Russians in London in hope of finding the man who had paid him for documents. When Edmund was in dire need of money, she knew how inventive he could be with her, but she was, after all, his elder cousin who had practically raised him. A dangerous character such as Nikolai Zarenko was quite another matter. Edmund worked his charms best on women...

      
That gave her a sudden start. Natasha Samsonov is Zarenko's sister. Josh had told her that. She recalled that night at the ballet when he had left her at the theater entrance while he parked his automobile. He'd returned with a group of Russian gentlemen, and then the prima ballerina and her brother had arrived. Zarenko! Small wonder he had looked familiar to her that day in the park. Josh's assignment explained why he was out driving with the haughty Russian beauty. Or was that merely wishful thinking on her part?