Page 13 of A Remarkable Rogue

Only when he’d rescued a group of two dozen women and children who had become trapped in a barn between the colliding armies at Amiens did he feel that he deserved absolution. That he was worth more alive than dead, that his life might have a greater purpose after all.

“But something tells me that you didn’t come here to share war stories.” She gave a conspiratorial smile from behind her teacup. “AlthoughIhave my own war stories I could share withyou.”

War stories? What on earth was she referring to? But Nate didn’t feel mad enough to inquire. The woman terrified the daylights out of him. “Perhaps another time, ma’am.”

“I look forward to it.” She leaned toward him and lowered her voice, teasing him with a snippet as she whispered, “During the troubles on the Peninsula, I was heavily involved with leather, whips, and the First Dragoons!”

Nate froze, his teacup raised halfway to his mouth.

She smiled pleasantly and reached for the whiskey. “More tea, Captain?”

He cleared his throat and held out his cup. “Please.”

“So then.” She refilled both their teacups and replaced the stopper before setting the bottle back into the cabinet. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

His attention shifted back to Sydney Rowland, although she had never strayed far from it since their meeting last night. Even now, thoughts of her spiked his pulse. If he didn’t lose his mind by the end of the mission, it would be a miracle.

He took a deep breath and focused on Agnes and her yellow turban—was that a stuffed parakeet glued to the top of it?—in hopes of tamping down the unwanted tingling in his groin. “I believe you’re acquainted with Lady Rowland.”

“Oh yes! I’ve known the girl’s family for years—the Rowlands, that is. Her late husband’s family.” Her mouth pulled down into a thin frown as she studied him over the rim of her cup. “Why would you want to know about her?”

He kept his face carefully even. “I met her last night and found her…intriguing.”

She sent him a knowing smile. “So you fell for the baroness’s beauty and charms, did you, my boy? Well, you’re certainly not the first.”

Nate tightened his jaw against her accusation that he was no better than those other dandies who’d endlessly propositioned Sydney at Barton’s. She was tempting, he’d admit. But no matter how much his body craved hers, he would never act upon it.

Yet he also had faith that a family that produced a man like Alexander Sinclair would have more than a thread of intelligence running through it, despite the surface appearance of madness. So he confided quietly, “The Home Office is interested in Henry Everett, and Everett knew the baroness.” He paused. “So does Miss Olivia Everett.”

Lady Agnes’s eyes flickered. It was the only outward sign that she understood his unspoken subtext. At that very moment, Olivia Everett was most likely lying naked in St James’s arms, planning out their wedding and life together. Nate knew that Agnes Sinclair would never allow anyone to be in a position to harm the future countess and the love of her nephew’s life. Not even the beautiful and charming Lady Rowland.

“I had presumed the baroness and Miss Everett were friends,” she said carefully.

“They might very well be enemies for all I know of Lady Rowland,” he replied just as carefully. “I was hoping you could enlighten me.”

With her eyes never leaving Nate, Agnes called over her shoulder to the footman standing at the door. “Richard, please go downstairs and ask Cook for this evening’s dinner menu. There’s no reason to hurry.”

The footman bowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And close the door after yourself.”

With a nod, he did as requested and left the two of them alone.

“Now then, Captain.” She set down her cup and raised her gold-rimmed lorgnette as she boldly sized him up. Apparently finding in him whatever she’d been seeking, she lowered it and left it to dangle around her neck. “What would you like to know?”

“Everything,” he answered honestly.

“Well, then, I daresay we shall need stronger tea.” She stood and moved to the sideboard behind her to fetch two crystal tumblers. Not bothering with the pretense of tea this time, she splashed a generous pour of cognac into each glass and held one out for him.

He accepted it with murmured thanks.

“Sydney Rowland,” she began thoughtfully as if searching the dark corners of her mind for information. “At one point, right after she was widowed, I believe that Alexander’s mother had hopes for a match between them, but I’m getting ahead of myself.” She dismissed that with a wave of her hand as she sat on the sofa and settled in for a long conversation. “Her family—her blood family, that is,notthe Rowlands—were socially inconsequential in every way except for their wealth. They’d accumulated a great fortune from trade with the Americans. Her father was a self-made man, as they say.” Her face scrunched up in disdain. “But no decent gentleman actuallyworksfor his money, for goodness’ sake! And certainlynotwith Americans.”

Nate covered the amused twitching of his lips by raising the glass to his mouth.

“Sydney was their only child, which meant all that American money would be hers someday, and a great sum of it did end up in her dowry. Fifty thousand pounds settled on the marriage, if one can believe the rumors.”

He choked on his drink.Sweet Jesus. “That must have made the baron a very happy man.”