Something Sinful (31 page)

“I don’t have to pretend being unhappy about him,” Sarala answered, settling for a mild glare at John.

“Are your Chinese swordsmen not here yet?” the viscount asked as he reached them. “I thought they valued timeliness.”

“They do,” Shay said, keeping his voice low. “If I’m not mistaken, they’re in those trees watching us.” He indicated the stand of trees where Zachary and Lord Deverill continued to hide, though Sarala imagined their firearms were now pointed at DeLayne rather than anyone else.

“How many of them are there?” the viscount asked, taking a step to put Sarala between the trees and himself. “Hanover said three.”

“I reckon at least a dozen,” Charlemagne returned, from the clench of his jaw noting just where DeLayne had moved and why. “Keep your eyes open. They’re suspicious devils, and I cannot figure out how to gain their respect.”

The Duke of Melbourne, who’d been standing closer along the pathway some distance away from them, came forward. “They’re on their way. I still think this is a mistake, Shay. If they don’t like your price or your conditions, they may just take your head off.”

“Yes, but if they
do
like conducting business with the Griffins, we’ll make a fortune. You saw that vase the one with the scar showed us. Lord Yun.”

“It would be easier,” the duke put in, “if they weren’t convinced that the lot of us stole those silks. Getting them to pay for their return—that’s a risk I’m still not convinced we should take.”

While DeLayne followed the brothers’ conversation intently, Sarala took a moment to study him. Last night Lord Deverill, especially, had seemed to have a grasp on what to look for as evidence that the viscount was becoming “entangled,” as he’d put it. And she saw all the signs already this morning—the way his gaze darted from one Griffin to the other, the repeated licking of his lips as though he could already taste the spoils of success.

“You’re always sure of yourself,” Melbourne was saying. “I just hope you realize the ramifications of failure.”

“Shh,” Sarala interrupted, “They’ll hear you.”

An open wagon, a tarp thrown over the back, stopped parallel to them on the riding path. The one Shay had introduced to her jumped to the ground, his sword flashing in the sunlight as he sheathed it at his waist. The other two waited with the cart, their unconcerned gazes on the proceedings, as if they truly did have a dozen men hidden in the undergrowth.

“Lord Yun,” Charlemagne said, bowing reverently.

“I have no time for pleasantries, thief,” Yun growled. “Where are Emperor Jiaqing’s silks?”

“They’re safe. Do you have our payment?”

“Payment, ha. You should call it a ransom. This will mean war between our nations, you know. And you will be the first to die.”

Heavens.
Yun could give Edmund Kean a lesson or two in acting. No wonder DeLayne looked rather taken aback; Sarala was half ready to run for help, herself.

“Look, Yun,” Shay snapped back, “we don’t have to give you the bloody silks at all. I could have them cut into rags or saddle blankets.”

Yun drew his sword. “Infidel!”

“Do something,” Melbourne whispered urgently at DeLayne, nudging him forward. Charlemagne gave Sarala a quick wink as the viscount stumbled into the forefront.

“Gentlemen!” John squeaked, his voice wobbling. “If there’s bloodshed, no one will get what they want!”

“Who are you?” Yun demanded, pausing in his attack.

“I am John, Viscount DeLayne. I’m here to see that everything proceeds smoothly and fairly.”

The soldier took in the viscount’s over-elegant attire. “Did your Regent send you to negotiate?” he asked.

“Tell him yes,” Shay whispered, dodging behind John and away from Yun’s sharp sword.

DeLayne threw him a contemptuous glance. “No, he did not. I very much doubt that His Highness has any idea what these men are up to.”

Yun lowered his sword an inch or so. “Then why are you here, and dressed so fancily?”

“I believe these men meant to make a fool of me, or of you by convincing you that I
do
represent His Majesty,” the viscount returned. “I don’t think they have much liking for either of us. You would prevent them from selling the silks, while certain of their family have behaved dishonorably, and I have knowledge of it.”

“Then I will conduct Emperor Jiaqing’s business with you,” Yun stated, sheathing his weapon.

“For a fair recompense, of course,” John said, displaying his smooth, charming smile.

Yun inclined his head. “Of course.”

“Wait a damned minute,” Shay burst out. “
I’m
the one who arranged this meeting.”

“And if it goes ill,
you
will pay the price.” The Chinese soldier kept his hand on his sword hilt to emphasize the threat. “Where are the silks?”

The viscount faced Charlemagne. “I suggest you tell him, Shay. This man doesn’t care about your pedigree.”

With a curse, Shay gave the address. “A warehouse. Number nine, Half Moon Street.”

Yun called out something in Chinese to his companions by the wagon, and they cheered. “Finally, an Englishman who is a gentleman,” he continued, facing DeLayne again.

“And now where is our porcelain?” Charlemagne demanded from his place safely behind John.

The soldier motioned toward the wagon. The younger of his two companions reached under the tarp and pulled out an exquisite-looking vase in blue and yellow and green. He brought it to Yun, who hefted it in his hands and then passed it to the viscount.

“Just a damned minute, you bloody savage,” Shay sputtered.

“There are two dozen vases of the same quality inside the wagon,” Yun said, ignoring the outburst. “We will leave a like amount at the warehouse in trade for the silks at eight o’clock tonight. They are all yours, Lord DeLayne. Do with them what you will.”

DeLayne bowed. “My thanks, Lord Yun. I’m glad I could see justice done.”

Moving with lightning speed, Yun reached around the viscount and grabbed Charlemagne by the lapels, dragging him forward. “You and I, Griffin, had best not meet again. If there is one bolt of silk missing, I will take your head back to the emperor as compensation.” Releasing Shay, he took a step back to stand eye to eye with DeLayne. “This is for you, Lord DeLayne, by order of the Blessed One, Emperor Jiaqing.”

From the loose folds of his silk shirt he produced a wide red and silver ribbon garnished with a huge ruffle of yellow silk in the shape of a rose. With great ceremony he placed it over the viscount’s head and under one arm.

“All who see will know that you are a revered member of Emperor Jiaqing’s personal Dragon Guard,” Yun said reverentially, “the first Englishman ever so honored.”

“Thank you, Lord Yun. I
am
most honored.”

Sending a last hard glare at Charlemagne, Yun and his men departed, leaving the laden wagon behind. Once they were out of sight, Shay lunged at DeLayne, only to be pulled bodily back by his older brother.

“Enough, Shay. He very likely saved your life.”

“And don’t you forget that,” DeLayne said, practically preening as he looked down at his ribbon. Caroline and Eleanor had outdone themselves with its manufacture.

“What about our profits?” Charlemagne asked, shrugging free of his brother’s grip. “Yun just gave everything to our glib friend, here.”

With a smile, DeLayne handed the duke the vase he still held. “Have this one. The rest are mine. What did you say they were worth?”

“About eighty or ninety guineas each. That’s not what we agreed on for any of th—”

“Then that’s my price today for keeping quiet about Sarala’s…indiscretion.” He walked to the wagon, pulling back the tarp to reveal twenty-three additional vases. “And I’ll collect the rest tomorrow morning from the warehouse.”

“At least we won’t have to see him tonight at the Ellis soiree,” Sarala said, just loudly enough for him to hear. “As if we want him parading his honors about in front of everyone.”

“Shh,” Shay cautioned.

DeLayne turned around. “By the by, I think we should all celebrate the return of the silks to China. I’ll join you at the—what was it, Sarala—the Ellis soiree? Please inform Lady Ellis that I am your guest.”

Melbourne stepped forward. “Just remember, DeLayne, that the deal’s not finished yet. If it goes ill, the Chinese may blame Charlemagne. I, however, will turn my attention elsewhere. And you don’t want to be the object of that attention.”

The viscount had the intelligence to pale. “You should be nicer to me, Your Grace,” he said, though, his voice fairly steady. “This is only the beginning of our partnership. I hope it continues to be as lucrative.”

Without waiting for an answer, he climbed onto the wagon’s seat and clucked at the gray mare harnessed to it. His cousin’s coach fell in behind, and he rolled back in the direction of his residence.

“Buffoon,” Melbourne muttered at the viscount’s vanishing backside.

“Oh, my goodness,” Sarala breathed, her heart still racing, “that was marvelous to behold.” Before she could think better of it, she flung her arms around Charlemagne’s neck.

He lifted her in his arms, kissing her fiercely. “I almost pity that idiot.”

“Shay, decorum,” Melbourne said mildly, turning to wave a hand toward the nearest stand of trees.

Zachary, then Deverill with slightly more grace, dropped to the ground and came forward. “It went well, I assume?” the youngest Griffin brother asked.

“Better even than we’d thought.” The duke eyed Charlemagne. “That was a bit of a risk, wasn’t it, calling Yun a bloody savage?”

“He nearly took my head off with that damned sword,” he returned, putting a finger just beneath his chin and then looking at it. A drop of blood shone red on the pad of his finger. “I thought it was fair payment.” He pulled out his pocket watch. “We’d best get to the warehouse and help Yun load up the silks.”

“How much are those vases actually worth?” Sarala asked, transferring her grip to Shay’s arm as they headed toward their waiting carriages. She craned her head to look under his chin. It was a small scratch, but considering the speed at which Yun had gone after him, she had a whole new respect for both the swordsman’s skill and Shay’s nerves.

“This?” With his free hand Charlemagne took the one remaining vase from the duke’s grip. “About a shilling, isn’t it, Sebastian?”

“Yes, but don’t break it. Two dozen of them nearly cleared out the pottery shop. If we need another lot for the warehouse, we may have to ask Caroline to paint them for us.”

“You chose nice ones, anyway.”

“You had him studying your damned antiquities of China book all night,” Zachary broke in, grinning. “What do you expect?”

“Children,” Melbourne said, drawing to a halt beside his coach. “As well as it went, please keep in mind that this isn’t a game. We have more to do to prepare for tonight, and we cannot afford to make a mistake. It’s not only our honor at stake, now. Yun is doing us a great favor. If he’s humiliated, then we can assume Emperor Jiaqing has been humiliated, as well.”

“Then we have to make certain nothing goes wrong,” Charlemagne said in a somber voice. “Yun’s not the only one doing me a favor. I owe all of you.”

“Nonsense,” the duke returned. “Just don’t tell Peep we’ve taken up acting. I am not going to encourage her in that direction.” He stepped up into his coach. “I’m off to see Prinny. Let Master Yun know that I’ll hopefully have a schedule for him this evening.”

“I think my heart might burst right through my chest,” she said, her voice a little ragged. “I can’t believe everyone is willing to go through this for m—”

“For
us,
” he corrected before she could finish. “I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?”

“I told you that Sebastian wants us to name a wedding date so he can announce it next week.”

Green eyes watched him, immediately wary. “Yes. And?”

“And so I think we should set a date. Perhaps the Saturday after.”

“Shay! For one thing you told me we could remain betrothed until I decided marriage was what I wanted. For another, that’s less than a fortnight from now.”

He took her hand, wishing he could simply kiss her until all of her concerns melted away, and hoping it wasn’t only his imagination that heard more surprise than reluctance in her voice. “Then the Saturday after that. The point being, Sarala, that I want to marry you. And nothing that happens with DeLayne will change that.”

“You shouldn’t speak so soon.”

He drew her across the coach and onto his lap. “Come now, princess. I’m getting my head chopped off tonight. Show me a little charity, will you?”

She chuckled, running her fingers through his hair and kissing him feather-light on the corner of his mouth.
Good God.
He went hard, and knew from her playful wriggling on his lap that she was quite aware of his state. “A very little charity,” she whispered.

“The devil you say.” He cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her until neither of them could breathe. The maid was mumbling something about propriety and getting sacked, but he ignored it.

“I surrender,” Sarala finally gasped, lowering her head to his neck. “You have a great deal of charity.”

“Much better.” A thought abruptly occurred to him, and he sat straighter. “Do you think DeLayne would go brag to your father about what’s happened?”

She lifted her head. “My—I don’t—I don’t know. He might. Oh, dear. Papa doesn’t know anything, but he could still—”

“We’d best go speak with your parents, especially since you’re attending the soiree with them tonight.”

“Do we have to tell them?” she whispered, her arms tightening around his shoulders. “Papa will be so disappointed in me. And he truly thought John DeLayne was a good friend.”

“All the more reason we should tell him the truth.” He kissed her cheek. “I would say they don’t need to know everything, but if this goes awry, I don’t want them hearing the stories for the first time from DeLayne—or from whomever he gossips to about it.”

“No. You’re right.
I’ll
tell them, though. You wait somewhere close by in case I need to flee.”

He smiled, feeling the tension in her shoulders. “Agreed,” he said. “I won’t ever abandon you, you know. Not even if you wear that hideous brown bonnet again.”

Sarala chuckled, as he’d intended. It seemed odd that with so much still hanging in the balance, so much could feel right with the world. All he needed, apparently, was to have Sarala in his arms to forget for the moment that he still had several dragons to slay. Of course that was all a part of the plan, according to Peep.