Temptation Has Green Eyes (7 page)

“Do you know of a man called John Hayes?” Julius asked.

A chill went through Max. What was this? “John Hayes is the man who used to work for my future father-in-law.”

“I know.” Julius folded his arms. “And something else, maybe?”

Max glared at him, thin-lipped, anger seeping through him. “He offered my betrothed an insult.”

“By which you mean he forced himself on her?”

If anyone but Julius had brought up this subject, Max would have denied everything and left. Julius wouldn’t have introduced the subject if he didn’t have a reason. “Where the hell did you hear that?”

Max quelled his anger and, with an effort, concentrated on what Julius was saying. “You know I hear them all. What actually happened is your concern and yours alone. If asked, I will of course deny it. But you don’t know everything about Hayes. You need to see something.”

His cousin strolled across to a bonheur du jour set by one paneled wall, shook back the lace at his wrists and opened a marquetry drawer, pulling out a piece of paper. He handed it to Max. “What do you make of this?”

Max glanced at the document, then, when he reached the signature at the bottom, his attention sharpened. He read it again. “A letter from Hayes to the Duke of Northwich,” he said. “What of it? It appears to be a standard business letter.”

“Did you know Russell had dealings with Northwich?”

Max shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”

He glanced at the letter again. Read it. Frowned. “I don’t know all his concerns but I’d be very surprised if Russell were doing business with these people.”

He was reading about a consortium led by the Duke of Northwich, more political than anything else. “He wouldn’t ally himself to a cause. Apart from all other concerns, it’s not good business.”

“I thought so.” Julius returned the document to the bureau and turned the key. “From my research into Russell, I believe he’s as honest as a businessman can be.”

Max chose to take offence. After all, he was a businessman himself. He raised a haughty brow. “By which you are implying…?”

Julius barked a laugh. “That he has more integrity than the average politician. You can’t go through life without getting a little dirty. Some are dirtier than others, that’s all.”

“Russell was grooming Hayes as his heir, but after Hayes’s attack on Sophia, Russell dismissed him. Was the letter dated?”

Julius shook his head regretfully. “Unfortunately not.”

“So he could have written it before or after his association with Thomas Russell.” Max’s frown deepened. “I’ll speak to him about it.”

Julius’s chin jutted out. “Can you trust him?”

“Absolutely.” He paused. “Treason isn’t profitable, and it doesn’t work with Russell’s character.”

“He would be a useful ally.”

Max knew that tone. Julius’s special area of business concerned the feud with the Dankworths and the connotations opposing the highly political family held. Julius was the conduit for the rest of the family, collecting information about the family that had plagued the Emperors of London for so long.

Their support for the Jacobites had nearly finished the powerful family of the Duke of Northwich. The Dankworths had been slowly rebuilding their fortunes after sacrificing a few of their number to justice after the Forty-five had dashed their hopes of a Stuart monarchy and power. After working slowly and surely for a decade, Northwich had become a power to be reckoned with once more.

Although nominally at least Protestant and loyal to the Crown, the Dankworths were still Jacobite to the last one of them. That was where their power lay. They would not give that up easily.

Max swore. Then used a few more words for good measure. “So what can I do about it? I’m as sure as I can be without seeing absolute proof that Russell isn’t involved. But Hayes has connected with Dankworth at some point, either with or without his then master’s permission. What does that mean?”

Julius bit his lip. And then took a quick breath. “You know war is coming. The Peace of Aix was a breathing-space, that’s all.” He shot Max a perceptive glance, his blue eyes sharp. “War is good for the economy, is it not?”

“Sometimes.” Max hated to admit it, but he was a realist and he couldn’t deny the truth. Commercially, war meant a full-time army and the supplies it needed, a national sense of optimism and patriotism, among other things. “Not that that’s any reason to promote it.”

“True, but some unscrupulous people might do so.” Julius paused. “You know what happened to Alex?”

Another cousin, another Emperor. “I know he’s blissfully happy with his new bride.”

“But not without interference from the Dankworths.” Julius grimaced and took a few paces from the window to the fireplace and back. Behind him the clock tinkled the half-hour. “The trouble with his wife, the brothel, the auction, that was all financed by Northwich. He was the mystery backer of the place that nearly proved Connie’s downfall. I believe that was an opening salvo. A test, if you like, of how strong we are. Dankworth discovered we will hold together if we need to. He would have picked us off singly otherwise.”

“Why would he set himself against us?” Max asked, genuinely perplexed. He shoved his hands into his breeches’ pockets. “Surely our political opposition is old news. We ally ourselves with the winners. Always have. They can’t bear a grudge, can they?” Although Julius dressed in the highest of high fashion and Max rarely bothered with his brocades and satins unless he had to, he felt more comfortable with Julius than with most men he knew. They thought alike, and neither had to bow to the other’s intelligence. They could keep up with each other.

Julius frowned. “Think again. Northwich bears grudges that last a lifetime. But there are other reasons for him opposing the Emperors. Between us, we control, or have considerable influence in, most spheres of interest. Look at you, in the City. You could prove useful to Northwich, should he turn you to his cause. So could I, and Alex, and Nic. Everyone. I don’t doubt he’s testing us on a few fronts, but a wise soldier concentrates on one campaign at a time. And I fear we, the Emperors, are that campaign.” He paused. “Your father-in-law-to-be is immensely influential. He has fingers in pies we cannot reach. He could be a useful addition to our party, if we need help. Or his.”

“I see.” Yes, he could. “Russell is loyal to the Crown, always has been, but he doesn’t dabble in politics.”

“He doesn’t have to.”

Max considered Julius’s request and nodded. “I’ll talk to him. Apprise him of the situation.” It would be a prudent move.

Julius took a turn around the room, his coat skirt swinging. He paused to give the clock on the mantelpiece an infinitesimal adjustment. “Russell should know that allying himself to us would make him unacceptable in some quarters. The duke would do anything to bring us down.” He turned back to face Max. The corner of his mouth quirked in a cynical half-smile. “Who knows? If we’d been on the losing side at Culloden, maybe we’d feel the same.”

Max took half a second to consider his opinion on that issue. “My father threw away his fortune on that huge monstrosity in Buckinghamshire rather than fight renegade Jacobites.”

“It’s very beautiful,” Julius, the lover of fine art protested.

“Some of it is. But who wants a palace? Especially one I can’t do anything with. I’d love to sell the thing. Would you buy it?”

Julius gave a hard laugh. “Not a chance. We have our own palace, and one is more than enough. At least it keeps my father busy.”

“Is your mother becoming a problem again?” Julius’s mother made concerted attempts to reclaim Helena, but now Julius had brought his aunt, Max’s mother, into the scene, Max wondered how matters would progress.

“No more than yours.”

Both men laughed.

“Maybe we should start a book at White’s,” Max said. “On the winner and how long it will take.” His mood sobered. “But seriously, now I’m marrying, we can offer Helena a haven, if she wishes it. Even at the mausoleum.”

“I appreciate it.” Julius crossed the room to Max and held out his hand. “I haven’t said congratulations.”

Max shook his hand briskly. “Thank you. Not something I expected to happen anytime soon, but I have to admit, I couldn’t have done better from my personal point of view.”

Julius frowned. “You love her?”

Max would have laughed, but Julius appeared too serious for him to mock. Then Max remembered what he should never have forgotten; Julius’s own doomed love. He’d adored the woman he married—wild, bad, troubled Lady Caroline Foster. Julius had fallen completely for the delicate but beautiful woman, and when she’d died, many of the family had heaved sighs, very quietly so nobody would hear. Julius had frozen since her death five years ago, become the icicle some claimed.

That would make little Caroline six. Yes, the child was six. Sad that he could remember when Caro had died, but not when Caroline was born. If not for the child, Julius would have become completely sealed off, but he adored his daughter. The rest of the family loved her for helping him, however unwittingly, to keep part of himself alive.

Max thought of an appropriate answer. “Sophia’s attractive, intelligent, and I like her.” More than that he’d keep to himself. He couldn’t admit how much the idea of having her in his bed excited him because he didn’t understand or trust it.

“It’s a good start,” Julius said. “Better than many people have.”

Sophia went through her wedding with an air of disbelief.

She met her groom at the altar, but in one way he hadn’t left her since she’d visited his house on Friday. She’d tried shopping to get his face out of her mind. She’d stopped at the Royal Exchange and purchased a new fan and gloves. But when she got home she wondered what she’d been thinking to buy a fan in such a lurid shade of pink. How could people produce such a violent color, and why would they? It was a poor impulse purchase like the gown of blue silk that had seemed so pretty on the bolt but once made up, didn’t suit her at all.

She wasn’t considering purchases or practical matters. All she recalled was his kiss. It kept replaying in her mind, the way their lips had met and melded. The way their bodies had pressed together and her heart had leaped, just once, as if it wanted to join his. More of those, and she’d be good for nothing.

She didn’t use the fan or the gown for her wedding, but she did wear the gloves, which she had to take off at the altar when Max slid the ring on her finger. He’d chosen a single emerald with diamonds either side. Although she was no expert, Sophia knew a beautiful gem when she saw it. Clear, with color as true and pure as his eyes, the ring would remind her of him when he wasn’t with her.

She’d never escape him, even if she wanted to.

She’d never seen Max so carefully dressed. When he was in the City, he wore plain clothes of excellent quality, as most merchants did, and if he attended a City function, he dressed soberly but finely. Not in shimmering scarlet with gold embroidery as he did today. He wore a wig, too, even though he’d grown his natural hair long and normally wore it tied it back with a black velvet ribbon. At least he didn’t wear full maquillage, unlike his cousin Julius, Lord Winterton, who appeared unearthly in his magnificence.

Lord Winterton made Sophia fear him in this guise. Truthfully, she suspected he’d intimidate her anyway. He carried an aristocratic hauteur she had no idea how to counter.

At least she wasn’t marrying him. A mere marquess, not a duke’s heir. Not that the notion made her feel much better.

Most of Max’s cousins attended the wedding breakfast, the panoply of the Emperors of London with outlandish names like Nicephorus and Marcus Aurelius. They held the breakfast at Max’s town house, now her home. Her belongings would arrive, if they hadn’t already, together with her maid. Even the ugly fan and the blue gown.

Apart from that clandestine visit last Friday, Sophia had never visited the house before. She knew the main rooms because all modern town houses had similar layouts. The ground floor contained smaller parlors and bookrooms or studies, the first, up the sweeping, elegant staircase, the drawing-rooms, music rooms, and farther up the grand bedrooms. She moved around the large salon with feigned confidence she was far from feeling inside. Reminding herself that this house was merely her father’s house writ large, she went upstairs on her husband’s arm and took charge of her domain.

The furniture was upholstered in pale ivory, and the wood polished to within an inch of its life. She’d be afraid to touch it, lest she leave fingerprints. Or to sit on the sofas, in case she left dust or dropped crumbs on the surface. Extravagance had a price.

Today she wore her best pale green with a white embroidered petticoat and stomacher, with her mother’s pearls, a set so fine few could equal it. She’d felt well dressed until she saw some of the Emperors, and the Empresses, sisters and wives both. Still, the pearls could match anything they had to offer.

Her new mother-in-law approached her, smiling graciously. The title suited this lady much more than it did Sophia.

The dowager presented her hand as if she meant Sophia to bow over it, but she knew better. She touched it with her gloved fingers and lowered her eyes for a second, indicating respect but not deference. Respect for age and a prior holder of the title. The one she now held.

Lady Devereaux was a few inches shorter than Sophia, but that didn’t give Sophia the advantage. Rather the opposite, as her ladyship had the bearing of a queen. And this was the lady who traveled from relative to relative acting as unpaid companion? Sophia found it hard to believe. Her ladyship’s gown of cream watered silk was as fine as her own, and her diamonds gleamed in the light of the bright spring day.

“I am delighted to make your ladyship’s acquaintance,” she ventured. Any show of shyness, and the woman would eat her up like a crocodile savoring a little fish.

“The feeling is mutual, I vow.” The aristocratic drawl she affected was completely absent in her son. He wouldn’t have lasted long in the City had he used that. They’d have laughed at him while they took his money. But the older lady’s speech made her appear even more daunting. “A little odd to marry this early in the season.”