Page 15 of A Remarkable Rogue

“That reminds me.” She gave a thoughtful tap of her finger to her forehead. “The next time you see Lady Rowland—”

Nate bit back a laugh. As if he were in any position to see Sydney Rowland again, except through prison bars.

“Please tell her that Bivvens found the reticule she accidentally left behind this morning at St James House and the bank draft inside it, made out to the Everett School. Alexander brought it directly over here to Miss Everett.”

“Bank draft?”

Agnes nodded. “Lady Rowland’s donation toward rebuilding.”

He stilled. “Was it for twelve hundred pounds?” The same amount she’d paid for Henry Everett’s debts. His chest tightened with both unexpected sympathy and dread at that obvious indicator of guilt.

“Heavens no!”

Relief eased though him, although he didn’t know why he should care about the baroness’s guilty conscious.

“Twice that amount, actually.”

Lady Agnes smiled, blithely unaware of the slice she’d made into his gut. It was blood money after all.

“The baroness is quite generous and gives to many charities across the city, especially those for children,” Agnes explained. “We’re fortunate to have her interest in the Everett School.”

“Very much so,” he muttered absently, his mind spinning with all he’d learned about her. Who was the real Sydney Rowland behind her beautiful but cool façade—the merry widow who haunted gambling hells in her finest silks and jewels or the guilt-stricken woman attempting to make restitution? Was she working willingly with Scepter, or was she just another one of its pawns?

“Well then.” Lady Agnes rose to her feet, and Nate politely followed to his. “I hope you learned whatever it was you wanted to discover about Lady Rowland.”

More than you could imagine.“You were quite helpful, my lady.” He sketched her a bow and added wryly, “And the tea was…uniquely enjoyable.”

“Indeed! However, you must call me Aunt Agnes.” She reached for his hands and squeezed them tightly. He stiffened. The gesture was far too familiar for his comfort. “That is how Alexander and Elizabeth address me, so you must do the same.”

But he wasn’t the same as St James and Lady Elizabeth. Nor would he ever be.

“My apologies, ma’am.” He genuinely didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he also couldn’t allow the eccentric woman to continue with whatever fantasies she had about bringing him into the Sinclair family fold. “But I won’t do that.”

Her smile faded, and sadness clouded her face. But she studied him closely, not surrendering all hope just yet. “Perhaps with time, then, once you’ve had a chance to grow used to having us all about.”

And once hell froze over.

She released his hands. “You must come back soon for more tea. I have plenty of war stories of my own to share, you know.”

His gaze slide sideways to the bottle of whiskey. Of course she did.

“Next time,” she promised with a wink, “I’ll tell you how I seduced Bonaparte’s brother!”

Five

Sydney turned her face up to the afternoon sun and closed her eyes to enjoy the open air of her barouche as it rolled through Hyde Park, grateful she was still alive and not locked away in Newgate.

She’d survived yesterday, and she took hope in that. The Home Office hadn’t come pounding at her door as Captain Reed had warned. But then, neither had he. Apparently, he was biding his time, yet her blackmailers wouldn’t. If they had seen her speaking with the captain at Barton’s and knew he was working to stop them, she’d have been killed by now. Of that she was certain. They’d murdered Henry Everett, harmed his sister, and burned down a school with its innocent girls still inside in their beds. They certainly wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.

But with each hour that passed without new threats arriving at her doorstep, she breathed a little easier and relaxed just a bit more. She’d done what the blackmailers had wanted by buying Henry Everett’s debts and demanding immediate repayment, and she prayed they had no further use for her. She didn’t care what side they were on, if they were revolutionaries or government agents. She wanted nothing to do with any of them.

Andabsolutelynothing to do with Captain Reed.

The man bothered her more than she wanted to admit and stole more of her thoughts than she should have allowed. Not just because of the new threat he posed but because something about him lured her attention despite her need to stay away. A shared sense of secrets, perhaps. Or loneliness, because even in the middle of the crowd at Barton’s, he’d seemed alone.

Alone. Exactly how she needed to leave him. He might have been a war hero and so strikingly handsome that he took her breath away, but the man was also trouble. Andtroubled. The last thing she needed was to become embroiled with him.

No. Best to stay to herself until all the threats ended.