now; betrayed.
Ian shrugged, his attention on buttoning the cuffs of his sleeves. âWhy not? You know youâd find it more satisfying than marriage.â
Why not. She let out her breath carefully, not wanting him to hear it. Ian saw nothing wrong with Staffordâs request, nothing in her instinctive reluctance, and nothing in her hints that they might suit each otherâat least, nothing that interested him. Unexpected humiliation fizzed in her veins for a moment, and she held herself very tightly together to hide it. âYes,â she said, when she could speak coolly again. âWhy not?â
âOf course, if you donât want to do it, tell him to go bugger himself,â Ian added quickly. He might have even sounded relieved. âAlthough if you do, let me come along. Iâd pay ten quid to see his face then.â
âNo, no.â She tugged at her glove, ignoring his jokes. âAs you say, there is no reason not to accept.â
He jumped up to follow her from the room. âIâll watch for that note, sending me after you to make sure all is well.â He reached around her to open the door.
She raised her eyes to his, once more calm and self-possessed. âI am sure that will not be necessary. I can handle one American, no matter how amateur or bellicose.â
He grinned and winked at her. âAye, but if you need a hand with the embezzlerââ
Angelique gave him a brief, dismissive smile. âYou know I wonât. Thank you, Ian. You have been most helpful.â She left, feeling his eyes on her back until she rounded the newel post and went down the stairs.
On the street once more, she walked briskly, scourging herself with the sting of his disinterest. Ian Wallace wasnât the only man in the world, and she was far from a dried-up crone. But how dare he flirt with her so outrageously and so often, if he had no interest in actually having her? Surely he couldnât have been alarmed by that word âhusbandâ surely Ian had bigger ballocks than that. She certainly hadnât expected him to fall upon her with a declaration of love and desire, but a spark of interest or acknowledgment would have been agreeable. He couldnât even give weight to her suspicion that Stafford wasnât playing fairly with her, but laughed it off and then offered to step in and help . As if she needed help, let alone his help.
She realized she was quivering with fury and forcibly reined in her emotions. Very well. Ian had persuaded her, for good or for ill: she would take Staffordâs vile little job, but this was the last one. A fortnightâs work, no more, and then she would walk away from all this ugliness. And woe betide Nathaniel Avery if he got in her way.
Chapter 3
N ate returned to the ship in a thoughtful mood. Angelique Martand was not at all what he had expected, and he still wasnât sure what to make of her. There were a dozen ways she could complicate his true purpose, but perhaps she could also serve it. Still, it would be like holding a copperhead snake in his fist, terrifying to have near but too deadly to let go. He couldnât keep from wondering just what her bite would be like.
When he went into his cabin, his traveling companion was pounding something in the stone mortar with a pestle. Now that they were in port and not as subject to the roll of the ocean, Prince had set up his chemistry equipment again. The table was covered with a collection of pots and jars, some with lids, some with glass tubes sticking out the top, and one with smoke wafting from it. Nate had little idea what he was brewing, but it would probably come in handy, whatever it was. That, and the fact that he didnât trust anyone more than he trusted Prince, was why Nate had wanted him to come to England. âWell?â Prince asked without looking up.
Nate stripped off the overlarge brown coat andlet it fall on a chair. âI saw him,â he