Redeeming the Rogue (23 page)

ARIANNE COULD BARELY STAND UPRIGHT BY THE TIME she returned with a light repast for Mrs. Summers and Kathleen. Yet there was no place to lie down, as both berths were occupied. Kathleen gave her the key to her cabin with the explanation that Eva would be absent. She couldn’t provide other details. Arianne thought she’d pursue that topic later, when she could think straight. Not now. Not when she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

A knock at the door awakened her from a wonderful dream. Rafferty was in it, holding a fistful of forget-me-nots. She left the berth to answer the door.

“Mr. Rafferty,” she exclaimed, taking a quick peek at his hands. They were empty. “I . . . I can’t ask you in. I’m here alone.”

“Yes. Mrs. Summers indicated as much.” His eyes slipped over her face while she noted his knuckles whitened on the doorframe. “I’m here to request your immediate presence to discuss an important development in our diplomat pretense.”

It seemed a lot for her sleep-drenched mind to comprehend. “A development?” She blinked, hoping that action would chase the dream cobwebs from her mind. “Are we not still in the middle of the ocean?”

A self-satisfied sort of smile bloomed on his lips. “I’ll tell you more when you come to my cabin.” He must have seen her eyes widen with protest. “Phineas and Mrs. Summers will be in attendance as well. My cabin should provide the privacy and the additional room that we’ll require.”

“Mrs. Summers?”

His eyes crinkled. He glanced across the passageway as if he suspected the chaperone held a glass to the door. Arianne chuckled, knowing she probably did.

“It seems she’s much improved,” he said loudly.

Arianne said that she’d be there presently, closed the door, then rushed to freshen her face with a moist towel. Her skirt and blouse were hopelessly wrinkled as if she’d slept in them, which indeed she had. As Rafferty suggested the situation was urgent, she decided not to change. At least she could pat some lilac water on the worst wrinkles and thus freshen her appearance. Eva certainly wouldn’t mind if she borrowed . . .

That’s when she saw the letter.

She wouldn’t have read it under usual circumstances, but the name
Barnell
at the top of the stationery caught her eye. She pulled the rest of the correspondence from the journal in which it was placed.

Eva!

Arianne felt the blood drain from her face. Eva had been a planted spy all along. A fury rose within her. All the time and effort Arianne had expended to train the perfidious wench, even to extend her own wardrobe to her . . . an actress, indeed! If anyone should be considered a traitor, it was Eva, not Rafferty.

Armed with the seditious letter, Arianne stormed down the passageway toward the men’s section of the ship. Rafferty must see this. He should have trusted her instincts . . . or at least, she should have trusted her own instincts. Either way, the letter changed everything.

She had reached the men’s corridor, then realized she wasn’t exactly certain which of the doors represented Rafferty’s. In hindsight, she should have waited for Mrs. Summers. At least there would be two of them in this predicament. She moved slowly down the passageway, hoping for some sign. She found it in a subtle trace of patchouli that lingered in the air. Rafferty had come this way recently. The scent intensified as she approached a door. Thus emboldened, she knocked.

Phineas greeted her. “Come in. We’ve been expecting you.”

She entered in awe. Rafferty’s cabin was easily three times the size of hers. A fine carpet covered the floor. Thick drapery hung near the head of a large mattress—one that appeared far more accommodating than the narrower one she had used the past week. The rich scent of patchouli permeated the air, explaining its presence in Rafferty’s clothes. Did he know of its legendary powers of seduction? Somehow she suspected he did.

Rafferty stood before shelves of books, two leather-bound volumes in his hand. His eyes narrowed slightly. “You didn’t wait for your shadow?”

“No . . . I know I should have, but I found this in Miss St. Claire’s possessions.” She held out Barnell’s letter, straightening into her best aristocratic posture. “I don’t think she will make a suitable wife.”

He smiled. Smiled! The sort of smile that tingled her bones even from the opposite side of the room. “I tend to agree.”

He glanced toward Phineas. “See if you can expedite Lady Arianne’s chaperone.” He winked at Arianne. “Tell her I’m plundering her charge’s virtue. That should hurry her along. But leave the door open. We still have Lady Arianne’s reputation to consider.”

If he hadn’t been focused on Phineas, he might have noticed her wince. There was no harm, she supposed, in allowing him to believe she had an unsullied reputation, but as she was condemning another woman for her deceit, her conscience made itself known.

“I’ve been selecting books for your perusal,” Rafferty said to her. “Would you care to take a look?”

Was he mad? She had just uncovered a chicanery of prodigious proportions and he was selecting books? “Don’t you wish to read this letter?” She waved it like a flag. “It suggests that Miss St. Claire has been in Barnell’s employ all this time.”

He examined the books in his hand while he meandered toward her. “Yes, I know,” he said. “Phineas and I discovered that connection earlier this morning.” A smile blossomed, even as he studied the titles. “It’s no wonder the Home Office has its eye on you.” His heated gaze took her breath away. “I know I would.”

“Of course,” she parroted, too flustered to really know what she was saying. She was agitated, not only because he was ignoring her discovery but because butterflies took up residence in her rib cage whenever he came near, and that . . . complication . . . she just shouldn’t allow. Her breasts tightened at the sight of his hands holding the books and at the memory of how those very hands had held her body earlier. He slipped behind her, adding to her discomfort, but then moved to her side.

“I thought you might enjoy this book of Celtic folklore and all the stories of seductive mermaids and treacherous selkies.” His intimate tones slipped in her ear, melting her insides to mush. “Or you might find the works of Jane Austen interesting. It is said that she loved an Irishman but rejected him due to his lack of property. She never married.”

“That is unfortunate,” she said, her senses reeling. “I know that I would consider—” Footsteps in the hallway interrupted her reply. Rafferty took a step away.

Mrs. Summers pushed the door wide. “Arianne, you should have called for me before you traipsed alone to this man’s quarters. A den of iniquity, if I ever saw one.”

Rafferty laughed. “These were my uncle’s quarters when he plied the seas with Captain Briggs. He was not so much a man of iniquity as he was of comfort.”

“My apologies, Mrs. Summers,” Arianne said. “I found a letter in Eva’s cabin that I felt needed to be seen by Mr. Rafferty immediately. Mr. Rafferty has been the perfect gentleman in your absence.” She wasn’t quite certain if that was true given the state of her racing pulse, but Mrs. Summers appeared to be comforted.

Rafferty took the letter from her hand and scanned it, his brow furled. “It appears we have more to concern ourselves beyond Eva’s loyalties. Weston has spies in his employ as well.”

“Spies . . . Eva? What is he talking about?” Mrs. Summers asked Arianne.

“I’m afraid the actress we hired to play the part of Rafferty’s hostess is unsuitable due to her misguided loyalties,” Phineas answered. “We no longer have a hostess for the legation.”

Arianne passed the letter to Mrs. Summers while Rafferty poured an amber liquid into two crystal glasses. Over the patchouli notes, she distinctly could smell the fragrance of “the angel’s share.” He handed one of the glasses to Phineas.

“Didn’t you say that Lord Henderson himself picked Mr. Rafferty to act as the British minister?” Mrs. Summers asked. “Why then is he referred to as a traitor in this letter?”

Arianne noted a muscle tighten in Rafferty’s jaw. It wasn’t fair that someone who strongly believed in truth and justice should be so branded by a falsehood. The accusation clearly hurt more than he allowed most people to see.

“Rafferty is not a traitor,” she said. “The lie was used to turn Eva against him. Obviously, she can’t be placed into such an influential position as the hostess to the British minister.”

“Which just supports my original contention that a hostess is not needed.” Rafferty poured wine into two glasses that he offered to Mrs. Summers and herself. “There’s no time and no means to find a new candidate.”

“No, Rafferty,” Arianne insisted. “You will do a grave injustice to England if you follow that course.” No one else had her experience to understand that a hostess was a vital, underestimated position in a small legation. She had to make them understand.

“I don’t think we have much choice,” Rafferty said. “I brought you both here to say”—he offered his glass up as a toast—“thank you on behalf of the Home Office for all that you’ve done. While appreciated, your combined services as teachers of diplomatic etiquette are no longer required.”

“A bachelor minister will not be tolerated,” Arianne said, ignoring the toast. “Lord Henderson acknowledged as much.”

“Who made the mistake of hiring that woman?” Mrs. Summers asked.

“It’s my fault,” Phineas said. “Rafferty was in such a hurry to investigate the murder. I should have questioned Miss St. Claire more thoroughly.”

“You’re not completely to blame,” Arianne said meekly. “I knew something was wrong, yet I didn’t say anything. She wasn’t as interested in the responsibilities of her position as she was her appearance. I admit I thought perhaps she was hired for other reasons.”

“You thought she was interested in Mr. Rafferty,” Mrs. Summers stated.

“You did?” Rafferty’s eyebrows reached for his hairline.

“She was always so . . . enthusiastic when you walked in the room,” Arianne admitted. She didn’t add her jealous suspicions that Eva was sharing Rafferty’s bed. In hindsight, she felt foolish for her suppositions.

“She did pretend to be pleased with the role, but I thought her admiration was over-practiced,” Rafferty said. Then he smiled. “Actually, she was sincere in her attentions, but toward another passenger, not me.”

“Who?” Arianne asked. She’d been so convinced Eva only had eyes for Rafferty, she hadn’t noticed her interest in anyone else.

“She and Mr. Barings have approached Captain Briggs about a marriage at sea,” Phineas advised.

“Cupid’s Mistress strikes again,” Mrs. Summers said with a tight smile. “Perhaps Lady Arianne could work her charms on a suitable stranger in Washington.” Arianne just sighed.

“Mrs. Summers,” Rafferty said, “I don’t suppose you’d consider joining the Rafferty clan as my widowed aunt?”

“My dear boy, while I’m honored that you would consider me for such a position, I fear I must decline. A woman of my age and health would not be suitable for the hostess of a legation. Such a position requires youth and stamina. Two virtues that unfortunately I retain only as fond memories.”

Even an aunt wouldn’t negate the fact that Rafferty was a bachelor. That was the real fly in the ointment. Arianne shifted uncomfortably. If Rafferty didn’t assume the role of British minister, the murder of Lord Weston would go unsolved while Rafferty chased Toomey. A competent, reliable wife had to be found and found quickly.

As she glanced around the silent faces at the table, a heavy weight settled in the pit of her stomach. The obvious solution would mean irrefutable public damage to her already privately damaged reputation, but to do otherwise meant a lifelong burden of guilt that she could have assisted in resolving the murder of a dear friend . . . and failed. It was a candle-snuffing moment.

RAFFERTY WATCHED ARIANNE. SHE BLAMED HERSELF for their current dilemma. He could see it in her unfocused stare and lightly trembling lower lip. The woman did not accept failure easily; it was a trait he admired. She’d been so confident that she could reshape both himself and Eva into respectable diplomatic representatives that to see it fail must be devastating. He wanted to hold her, support her, reassure her that she wasn’t responsible for this debacle. But that was not possible given the other occupants in the room.