My Surrender by Connie Brockway Read Free Book Online Page A

became a surge of fear.
    “You’re him,” she said softly. Her index finger curled around the trigger. “The last Rose Hunter.”
    He said nothing. He looked utterly relaxed. Except for his eyes.
    The only thing that kept Ginny from taking out the pistol and shooting him at once was the realization that of all the people who had speculated and mused and come to the conclusion that Andrew Ross was the only person who could possibly be the traitor and murderer, Charlotte alone had withheld comment.
    Which was, now that Ginny thought of it, rather odd. Because she knew Dand Ross was not dead? Or because she knew he was not culpable? Or both?
    Charlotte, Charlotte, she thought, what secrets have you been keeping from me?
    But of course, if this Dand was a papist spy, Charlotte would be obligated to keep both his identity and his existence a secret. Apparently Charlotte was very good at keeping secrets.
    “Well, Mr. Ross, how can I reassure you regarding our mutual friend?”
    “Explain to me Miss Nash’s part in the plan she outlined to me, the plan involving the Comte St. Lyon’s house party.”
    Ginny smothered her start of surprise.
    “What exactly has Charlotte told you, that naughty child?” The indulgent tone she’d hoped for failed her. Where exactly did that ‘child’s’ allegiance lie?
    “I know that you are seeking the retrieval of a letter currently held by the Comte St. Lyon. I know he is planning to auction it off and that you are going to steal it. All I want to know is what role you have assigned Miss Nash.”
    “None.”
    At his skeptical expression she shrugged. “She provides a bit of divertissement, is all. She is so deliciously ingenuous. People are continually trying to trump her by blurting out the most indiscreet things. Added to which she has a talent for knowing a variety of diverse people with, shall we say, diverse skills?”
    “Like architects.”
    She nodded. “ ’Twas Charlotte who found the gentleman with the blueprints to St. Lyon’s castle. She heard an old dowager advising another to have the garderobes in her family castle restored by the same fellow who had done such a wondrous job on the Comte St. Lyon’s newly acquired castle.
    “So, you see, our Charlotte, for all her youth and seeming flightiness, is extremely useful. Not to mention courageous and—”
    “I would just as soon her courage was never brought into question,” he cut in. “That is exactly why I am here. To impress upon you how very much I desire that her courage not be called into question. In fact, I insist on it.”
    She met his gaze wide-eyed. “I don’t see why it should be. At least not in the present situation. There. I have eased your fears. Now, ease mine,” she said. “Who are you? And please, do me the courtesy of assuming I have some intelligence.”
    “I never doubted it,” he said suavely. “As you already concluded, we share, at least for the present, a similar goal.”
    “Then we should work in concert with one another,” she suggested.
    He shook his head. “I must return to France soon. There are matters which I must attend to before I can—” He broke off. “I would stay, if I could, if only to see that you keep your word regarding Miss Nash’s safety.”
    She dimpled prettily, using all of her wiles to disarm him. “How can I convince you? Your own contact, the man to whom she gives your letters and who organizes your network here in London, gives his blessing to her involvement with me.”
    “My contact?”
    She allowed herself a small, victorious smile. He was not the only one with sensitive information. “Yes. Toussaint.”
    At his expression, she straightened. “You didn’t know?”
    Dand gave her a flat look of disdain. “I never asked. I need only know that I have a contact. Not who he is. I have discovered that not knowing those things which others would exercise extremely unpleasant means to find out is the only certain way to avoiding revealing them. Should