Justin raked his hands through his hair for the thousandth time as he paced the well-appointed drawing room. Magnificent oils lined the walls, and he glared at the olive-skinned faces in the portraits, wishing that they would stop staring at him. The clock chimed for the third time since his purgatory had begun, and he wondered if he could chance a dash up the stairs. But he did not know which room Evelyn occupied, and the two huge footmen by the door looked ready to eat him for midday snack. Lord only knew what Señor Arolas had said to the servants on his way out.
The door swung open, and the tall, raven-haired, olive-skinned gentleman glided inside. He walked with a natural grace even Justin had to begrudgingly admire.
Justin straightened, trying to contain his annoyance that Evelyn had run away from him and into the arms of the handsome Spaniard. “Well?”
“Brandy?” Arolas offered casually, his singsong Spanish accent making it sound like an illicit invitation.
“Will she see me or not?” Justin demanded, barely disguising his impatience.
The tall gentleman poured himself a snifter and delicately sipped from his glass. “I have known Señorita Evelyn since she was, how you say, chubby.” He held his hand in front of his waist, as if Justin were an imbecile. “She had cheeks as big as plates, Mediterranean blue eyes, ah, and that white, white English hair.” He sighed and shook his head. “For as long as I have known her she has always loved to eat.” He waved his hand dramatically. “Good food always found a place on her plate and in her stomach. But now.” He frowned. “My chef can find nothing to tempt her. She will touch not a thing.” He glared at Justin. “I wonder what makes her so ill that she cannot stand the taste of simple pleasures?”
Guilt swept over Justin, but the conniving Spaniard could not make him feel any worse than he already did. “She did not tell you what happened?” he ground out through clenched teeth.
The man shrugged dramatically. “Sully is arrested, I heard.”
Another sore point. The colonel had refused to allow him to interrogate the man, claiming that Justin was too soft for the exercise. As if there were sport in torturing a caged man. Now he was impotent to stop the plot or exonerate Evelyn. He was ready to kick up a riot with his frustration.
“I need to see her.” Justin forced himself to unfurl his locked hands. “Can you not convince her to speak to me?”
“Have you not yet comprehended? No one can make Señorita Evelyn do anything she does not wish to do.” Arolas smiled, and his white teeth gleamed like a predator with dinner in its sights. “Perhaps if you explained the situation I might be able to offer some advice or be more persuasive?”
Justin pursed his lips, grasping for the slim opening to try and learn anything helpful. “It’s complicated.”
Arolas gracefully reclined in one of the large wing chairs and stretched his long legs out before him, like a lion relaxing languidly after a kill. “I have no appointments this afternoon more important than my dearest Señorita Evelyn.”
Hearing the man wrap endearments around Evelyn’s name made Justin squirm. Were they sharing more than just a roof over their heads? Did the bastard whisper to her in his suave native tongue while…? Justin’s gut clenched, and he fisted his hands to control his emotions. He licked his lips, for his mouth had suddenly gone desert dry. “How is she? I mean, are you taking good care of her?”
“I will always appreciate my Señorita Evelyn. For I value the friendship between us.” He asked indolently, “Something you did not do?”
Charged silence enveloped the room.
“I can only surmise that you somehow were involved in ‘apprehending’ the fierce Sullivan, thereby betraying our Evelyn.” Arolas raised his dark eyebrow inquiringly. “Simply a guess, of course.”
Justin drew himself up. He would not allow himself to be toyed with for the Spaniard’s amusement. He turned on his booted heel and strode toward the door. “Just take care of her, Arolas, or you will answer to me.”
Suddenly the Spaniard sprang from his seat and pounced on Justin, gripping him by the cravat. “As good a care as you and your government have taken of her?” he whispered fiercely.
Arolas’s brandy-scented breath brushed against Justin’s cheeks, but he hung motionless. He could not defend himself against the truth. He was guilty of lies, betrayal, intimidation, and more. As he stared into the man’s glittering dark brown eyes, he saw his guilt reflected therein. The knowledge tasted vile on his tongue. Well, he could warn her, at least. “She has dangerous enemies,” he ground out, though his breath came in short gasps. Although it pained him to say so, he suggested tightly, “It would be best if she left the country.”
Arolas’s dark brown eyes narrowed, and he asked in a steely, sweet voice, “Are you threatening her?” The cravat tightened.
Justin could barely shake his head. “I would never hurt her.”
“Ha!” Arolas released Justin so quickly that he stumbled to the floor. “You English are chiflado!”
Before Justin could rise, the man spun on his heels and strode out the door. Justin put his head in his hands. How had he sunk so low?
Arolas charged back into the parlor. “I forget. She wanted you to have this.” He nonchalantly tossed something. The golden ring landed with a quiet thud on the carpet beside Justin. He picked up the small band and stared at it for a very long time. He did not know how much time passed as he sat there staring at the golden orb, but when he looked up Arolas still stood there, watching him with calculating eyes. “It would take a supremely devoted man to undo the damage you have done,” he stated with oily smoothness.
Harsh jealousy tore at Justin’s gut. “And are you assuming the task of consoling Evelyn?”
Arolas smiled wickedly. “I would jump at the chance to do anything for my Evelyn.” His eyes narrowed. “Anything.”
Justin wanted to hate the man, but he could not find it within him, for Arolas could give Evelyn what he could not—a home without the lingering shadow of betrayal. He stood, brushed off his britches, and straightened his wrinkled coat. Curling his fingers around the ring, he grumbled, “There is no need to gloat.”
Arolas studied him, weighing whether he was worthy and finding him wanting. “Did you ever meet Señorita Evelyn’s father, Señor Amherst?”
“No.”
“He was a great man.” Arolas sniffed. “There are not that many these days, so when you meet one, well, he makes an impression.” He waved his hand dramatically. “He was an eloquent speaker. His words would bend your thinking, so subtly that you would not even know that it was he who had changed your mind. He was principled.” Arolas frowned. “Sometimes too much. His country always came before anything else, including his family. So the idea that he would ever put anything before his homeland, well, it is ludicrous.”
Justin felt as if he were staring into a mirrored pool containing a vast store of knowledge but he did not know what questions to ask the oracle. Or whether he would get a straight answer. He licked his lips. “Do you know…what Sir Amherst was working on before he died?”
Arolas’s teeth gleamed white against his olive skin. “Diplomacy, of course.”
“Evelyn was not involved in her father’s ‘diplomacy,’ was she?”
Those dark brown eyes glittered. “What do you think?”
“I would bet my last farthing she was not.”
“Why? Because she is a woman?” He said the word as if it was a high compliment, not a mere circumstance of birth. As if spying was a dirty sport. Well, it was.
“Because she’s not devious. Intelligent, astute, yes, but her mind does not twist with devilish cunning…” Two could play at wide-eyed innocence. “…like what I assume one would need to be involved in the Intelligence business.”
“You sound as if you care for the lady.”
Justin shifted his shoulders, not wanting to face how strongly his feelings for Evelyn had become. “I hold Evelyn in the highest esteem.”
Arolas raised his brow. “Not exactly a declaration of love. But then again, you could not love her to have betrayed her so.”
Justin was so filled with shame that he could not meet the man’s eyes. Only his need to do something to help Evelyn kept him from wanting to crawl into a hole and lick his wounds in disgrace. Since she’d run from him the day before, he’d felt as if someone had ripped out his heart and run a loaded carriage over it. But he was not about to expose his pain to the bloody Spaniard.
He asked through clenched teeth, “Can you help me or not?”
Arolas strolled lazily over to his brandy, lifted the snifter, and sipped slowly. Staring into the glass as if contemplating the brownish-gold liquid, he stated quietly, “Let us suppose that Señor Amherst never faltered from his ‘diplomatic duty’ to his country, and let us also assume that his death was, shall we say, ill-timed, for argument’s sake, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Then, let us also suppose that Señorita Evelyn never partook in her father’s activities, as you suggest.” He pursed his lips, “That would indicate—”
“—that we have a traitor in our midst,” Justin finished for him.
Arolas shrugged nonchalantly. “All presupposition, of course.”
“Of course.” Justin rubbed his chin. “But what does she have that someone wants?” Besides her beautiful, earth-shattering smile.
“Her legacy?” Arolas offered.
“I would assume the authorities have covered that corner,” Justin replied guardedly.
“So it must be something else. Perhaps something she knows but does not know she knows?” Arolas tilted his head, studying Justin once more. “Why did you come here today? You knew she would not see you.”
“I had to try.” Justin looked away. “I have a duty toward her.”
“Ah, so with you, like Señor Amherst, duty comes first. You English. I will never understand you. You are so honor-bound you forget the simple pleasures in life. The love of a good woman, the hug of a small child’s arms around your neck. You miss so much.”
“I do not see your loving family crowding about you,” Justin replied stiffly.
The confident gentleman shrugged. “All in good time. And do not think that I will place anything before them.”
Justin bowed, facing Arolas again. He was impressed by the man, despite the fact that he was jealous of the bastard to the core. What he would give to switch places. To be the one coming to Evelyn’s rescue, consoling her, making things right. “If we have nothing further to discuss, I will bid you farewell.”
“And you as well. I confess, my lord…” It was the first time he had properly addressed Justin. “…you are not like the other ‘diplomats’ I have met.”
“How so?” Justin asked, intrigued.
“You do not seem to have the same taste for it, the blood, I mean. You seem to actually have some semblance of remorse. An unhealthy trait for a man in the diplomatic field, I might suggest.”
“Well then, it’s a good thing I’m not a diplomat, Señor. I am merely a man attempting to do the best he can to fulfill his duties.”
Arolas smiled wickedly. “Aren’t we all?”