How To Seduce A Sinner

Chapter Six

“Several bouquets have been delivered for you, Miss Ellingham,” the butler said to Dorothea as she joined Lord and Lady Dardington the next morning at the breakfast table. “Shall I leave them in the yellow salon so you may look at them after your meal?”

“Nonsense, Phillips. Bring them in here immediately,” Lady Meredith said with a smile of enthusiasm. “I vow I am as curious as Dorothea to see what’s been sent.”

Dorothea settled herself in the chair opposite Lady Meredith’s. She accepted a cup of hot chocolate from a footman but declined anything more than toast, forgoing the array of hot items in silver chafing dishes set on the sideboard.

As ordered, Phillips returned to the dining room with two footmen trailing on his heels, each carrying an assortment of flowers in their arms.

“How beautiful,” Lady Meredith declared as she hastily pushed her empty plate away to make room on the table for the numerous bouquets.

Dorothea smiled and reached first for a lovely bouquet of pink and white primroses. The stems were all cut to the same length and wound with white and pink striped satin ribbon. “Oh, smell these,” she said, holding them out toward Lady Meredith.

“Delicious,” Lady Meredith declared. “Who are they from?”

Anxiously, Dorothea tore open the card. “Major Roddington,” she answered with surprise. How sweet. Apparently he had enjoyed their dance together last night. “He’s asked to take me out for a drive this afternoon and hopes I will consent to enjoying a quiet picnic lunch with him in Banberry Park.”

“A picnic. That sounds charming.” Lady Meredith reached for a nosegay of yellow peonies. “I bet I know who sent these.”

Dorothea and Lady Meredith glanced at each other, smiled, then both pronounced at the same time, “Sir Perry!”

“Poor man, he suffers from an extreme lack of imagination,” Lady Meredith commented. “He sends the exact same bouquet every time. Twelve yellow peonies, tied with a satin ribbon in a paler shade of yellow. Is there a poem today?”

Dorothea met Lady Meredith’s amused gaze across the table as she unsealed the card that accompanied the flowers. She quickly scanned the contents. “Yes, unfortunately Sir Perry has seen fit to regale me with another of his original sonnets. It is written in his customary flowery, overblown style and pays homage to my-” Dorothea sputtered, blinked, then finally managed to choke out, “wrists.”

The marquess, sitting at his usual place at the head of the table, slowly lowered the newspaper he had been reading and peered at Dorothea over the top of the page. “Your wrists? Sir Perry wrote a poem praising your wrists? Surely, I misheard.”

Dorothea giggled and Lady Meredith joined her. “Oh, no, my lord, this epic poem is most assuredly an ode to my delicate, fragile, beauteous wrists, dainty and pretty and lovelier than fists.”

“The man’s mad as a March hare,” Lord Dardington pronounced. “I ask you, what sane person would single out that particular part of a woman’s anatomy for praise?”

“Not so much mad as desperate, I believe,” Dorothea said before she burst into another round of giggles. “Poor Sir Perry has written me no fewer than a dozen poems. Obviously, he is beginning to run out of body parts to extol.”

Dorothea’s comments sent Lady Meredith into another fit of laughter. When the older woman finally regained her composure, she once again turned her attention to Dorothea’s flowers.

“Who sent this exquisite orchid?” Lady Meredith asked.

Dorothea thoughtfully fingered the delicate bloom before reaching for the card, but her momentary blush of anticipation soon turned to disappointment when she read the signature.

“It’s from Lord Rosen. I remember he once told me that he cultivates them in his hothouse,” Dorothea said with a casual air she was far from feeling. Turning to one of the footmen, she added, “Please give the orchid to Cook, with my compliments. I remember that she has a fondness for them.”

Lady Meredith’s brow lifted fractionally. Dorothea glanced away, then hastily broke off a piece of toast and began to eat. She had not told her guardians about her encounter with Lord Rosen and she had every intention of keeping them in the dark over what had occurred in the garden last night.

The orchid was removed and the tightness in Dorothea’s chest eased. If only it were as easy to remove the memory of the time she spent in Lord Rosen’s company.

Dorothea took a fortifying sip of her now lukewarm chocolate and reached for another bouquet. Soon the remainder of the flowers and cards were sorted through. Vases were fetched and, with Dorothea’s permission, Lady Meredith instructed which bouquets were to be placed in which rooms.

Dorothea requested that the primroses from Major Roddington be placed in her bedchamber. She saved Sir Perry’s latest poem also, intending to enclose it along with the next letter she sent her sister Emma. She suspected the younger girl would find it similarly absurd and amusing.

“That felt a bit like Christmas morning, did it not?” Lady Meredith asked after the table had been cleared of all the foliage. “So many delightful surprises.”

“It was fun,” Dorothea agreed, though her heart harbored a beat of disappointment. There had been nothing from Lord Atwood.

“I received three invitations requesting my company on a carriage ride this afternoon, but I would like to go on the picnic with Major Roddington,” Dorothea said. “May I, Lord Dardington?”

Once again, the marquess slowly lowered the newspaper he was holding. “I am not acquainted with a Major Roddington.”

“I met him last night at the ball,” Dorothea replied hastily. “He was most charming.”

“Humph.” The paper rattled as it was snapped back into place, once more concealing Lord Dardington’s features.

“The weather seems ideal for an outing in the park,” Lady Meredith said. “I believe it would be a splendid day for Dorothea to have her picnic with the major.”

Lord Dardington dropped his paper onto the table and glared at his wife. “We know nothing about him. Who is he? Who are his people? How did he even get an invitation to the ball if we are not acquainted with him?”

Dorothea shook her head and shrugged helplessly. “Lord Atwood introduced us, therefore I assume they are friends. As for the rest, I don’t really know.”

The marquess gestured toward both women with a wave of his hand. “Honestly! You cannot possibly expect me to give you permission to drive out with this man when you know so little about him.”

Lady Meredith pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “That is the point of the outing, Trevor, to give Dorothea and the major an opportunity to become better acquainted.”

“They can do that in our drawing room,” the marquess grumbled. “Surrounded by a proper group of chaperones and other callers.”

Lady Meredith muttered something under her breath. Dorothea’s stomach dipped with disappointment. It would have been lovely to get away from the house for part of the afternoon. Plus the outing would provide the perfect distraction from her brooding over Lord Atwood.

“A picnic in a public park in the middle of the afternoon is a perfectly respectable outing and a very reasonable request.” Lady Meredith eyed her husband shrewdly. “And as I recall, just last night you promised me that you would strive to be fair and reasonable regarding Dorothea’s gentlemen callers.”

A muscle clenched in Lord Dardington’s jaw. He lifted his coffee cup, took a long sip, then replaced the delicate china cup back in the saucer. Lady Meredith smiled at him serenely.

“If she goes with him, she will need a far more substantial chaperone than her maid,” the marquess finally said.

Dorothea’s stomach tumbled again. Oh, dear. Was the marquess going to assign himself to the task of chaperoning her? If that were the case, she might as well stay home.

“I will gladly undertake that duty and our daughters will accompany me,” Lady Meredith answered. “You know how much they enjoy going on picnics.”

“You and the girls?” Lord Dardington drummed his fingers on the table. “How will you all fit in his carriage?”

Dorothea was thinking the exact same thing. Though she appreciated Lady Meredith’s efforts to assist her, this was not the result she had hoped to achieve. Major Roddington had struck her as an even-tempered, pleasant man, but she worried at his reaction when he discovered their picnic would now include four additional people. Three of them little girls.

“I would never dream of being so rude as to foist myself and our daughters upon the poor man.” Lady Meredith cleared her throat. “Dorothea will ride out with the major when he comes to call. The girls and I will either follow behind them or perhaps arrive beforehand at the park at an agreed-upon location.

“Riding in our own carriage is a necessity, since the girls will insist upon bringing along their favorite books and dolls and Cook will no doubt pack a lunch with all their favorite foods in quantities far more appropriate to feeding Wellington’s army than three youngsters.”

It was a reasonable compromise. One that Lord Dardington should not find objectionable, but Dorothea knew that he might. She held her breath tensely as she awaited his answer.

“You may send word to Roddington that you would be delighted to accept his invitation,” Lord Dardington finally said. “Though be certain to include the new details required for you to participate in the outing. I vow, only a man with honorable intentions would agree to have Lady Meredith and my darling daughters so near.”

Dorothea felt the smile well up from her heart. “Thank you, my lord. If you will excuse me, I shall write to him immediately.”

“Don’t forget about the other gentlemen,” Lady Meredith chided gently.

Other gentlemen? Dorothea stared blankly at Lady Meredith.

“Major Roddington was not the only man who sent you flowers and invitations,” Lady Meredith added.

Of course. Dorothea blushed. Her head was truly fuzzy this morning. A combination of a late night and…well, it didn’t bear too close thinking as to what else had her rattled.

“You are right, Lady Meredith. This will be the perfect time to also compose notes of acknowledgment and thanks to the others who were so kind to me.”

With a final smile, Dorothea quit the room. The remainder of the morning passed swiftly, and at the appointed hour Major Roddington promptly presented himself. He smiled with genuine warmth when she greeted him, and she noted with a sense of satisfaction how his eyes lit up with appreciation as he took in her fashionable ensemble.

“You look lovely, Miss Ellingham.”

“Thank you.”

Dorothea lowered her chin and smiled, glad that she had taken the extra time to make a special effort with her appearance. The deep blue shade of her muslin gown set off the blue in her eyes, and the matching hat she wore looked best with a section of her blond curls trailing down to her shoulders.

The major held his own against Lord Dardington as the marquess quizzed him sharply about the planned outing. After what seemed like an eternity to Dorothea, they were finally able to escape from the house. Her eyes lightened with interest when she caught sight of the handsome phaeton waiting at the curb.

“No need to look so impressed, Miss Ellingham,” the major said with a grin. “The carriage is on loan.”

“You must be a very good friend if you were allowed to borrow such prime equipment,” Dorothea replied, knowing such a fine rig and impressive cattle could not be rented from a stable.

“Though I have not known him long, the Marquess of Atwood has proven to be an amiable and generous man.”

Dorothea’s foot stumbled as she lifted it onto the carriage step and she nearly lost her balance. Had she heard correctly? Had he really said the Marquess of Atwood?

“My, yes, Lord Atwood is generous,” she said, her face warming with embarrassment. Good heavens, who would have ever thought the marquess and the major would be such close friends. It was surprising, for they seemed very different in personality and circumstance.

As usual, the London streets were crowded and the carriage horses, though well trained, were eager to run. It was necessary for the major to keep his concentration on the spirited horses, but Dorothea did not mind the lack of conversation. She spent the time enjoying the view and the fresh air and admiring his skill as he tightly held the reins and expertly negotiated them through the streets.

Within the hour they safely arrived at Banberry Park, a charming enclave on the outskirts of Town. There were a small number of people strolling on the marked paths, enjoying the pleasant spring weather. Dorothea turned her head and immediately she spied a most familiar group.

“I see Lady Meredith and her daughters have arrived,” Dorothea said, answering Lady Meredith’s wave with one of her own.

“Shall we join them?” the major asked.

“As long as we remain in view, we can set our picnic in a separate location,” Dorothea replied.

The major glanced at the chaos surrounding the marchioness, with the many blankets, toys, servants, and boisterous children, and turned the carriage in the opposite direction.

Dorothea smiled prettily at him as he assisted her down from the vehicle. They chose a shady spot beneath a majestic chestnut tree. With great aplomb, the major spread a blanket on the grass, then settled her comfortably upon it.

He opened the straw basket and began rooting around inside. “I asked my batman to procure our lunch from the tavern down the street from my lodgings. I hope you find it to your liking, Miss Ellingham.”

“Your batman,” Dorothea teased. “Do you not employ a proper valet?”

The major’s brows knit together. “You’re right, since I am no longer in the military, I should now call him my valet. Though honestly, he is more a jack-of-all-trades and in truth a loyal friend. Parker served with me in the Peninsula and later fought by my side at Waterloo. ’Tis difficult to relegate a man to an inferior position after he has saved your life.”

“Were you in the army a long time?”

“Since I was fifteen. I joined as a regular foot soldier. It took many years and a minor bequest from a distant relation before I was able to purchase my commission.”

“Ah, so there was no rich father to smooth the way?” she asked with a grin.

He looked momentarily startled, then suddenly grew very still. “No father at all, actually. At least not one who would claim me.”

“Oh.” Dorothea had no idea what to say. She had never before met anyone who was so open and honest about such a sordid, personal fact.

“I’ve shocked you,” he said gravely. “Forgive me.”

Lowering his gaze, the major turned from her and hastily began to unpack the contents of the picnic basket. He placed a wedge of cheese, a crust of bread, and several red, ripe strawberries on a plate, then held it out to her.

“’Tis I who should apologize,” Dorothea said quietly, ashamed it had taken her so long to respond. The poor man. She had not meant to add to his discomfort by remaining silent for so long. She had simply not known what to say. Dorothea took the plate he offered and tried to smile.

He shrugged his shoulders, as though it did not matter, but Dorothea was not fooled. His base birth had obviously had a profound impact on his life, as one would expect.

“Many individuals crumble under adversity,” she continued in a soft voice. “Yet you have obviously thrived. I find that most commendable.”

The major gazed off in the distance. “You are a very kind woman, Miss Ellingham, but there is no need to pretend. I know my limitations are not merely due to the circumstances of my birth. I am not elegant or polished like these other fine London gentlemen. I’m a soldier, far better suited to lead a cavalry charge against the French than conversing in polite company.”

“For a man who claims to have no social graces, you are doing a superb job of charming me, sir.” He turned to face her and Dorothea’s gaze locked with his. “And I freely confess to being a woman who prefers a natural, not a practiced, charm.”

His rough laugh was deep and filled with humor. “Your efforts to appease me are appreciated, yet I refuse to hide from the truth.”

“That you are charming? I agree it is foolish to try and hide that fact.”

“You are running circles around me, Miss Ellingham,” he replied with an easy grin.

“I believe you can hold your own very well, sir.” She took a bite of a strawberry, licking away a drop of the sweet juice from her lips. “Very well, indeed.”

The major leaned forward, his eyes warm with amusement. It was far too soon to even think about kissing him, yet she found herself wondering what it would be like. Pleasant, she was fairly certain, and perhaps something more?

A loud shout of laughter followed by a chorus of girlish giggles abruptly shattered the mood. Remembering they were out in a very public place, Dorothea shifted her position. Demurely, she set her back against the sturdy trunk of the tree, tucking the skirt of her blue muslin gown around her legs and ankles. The major stretched out on his side, his head propped on one elbow.

“It’s shocking to find such peace and tranquility so close to the center of London,” he said.

“You were not raised here?”

“No. I grew up in the north of England, near Wales.”

“Alone? With only your mother?” She lowered her chin as a hot blush rose to her cheeks. Curse her wicked, curious tongue. “I’m so sorry. I do not mean to pry.”

“It’s all right, Miss Ellingham. Truly.” He fiddled with the stem of a small wildflower growing near the trunk of the tree. “I never knew my father. My mother was governess to a wealthy, titled family. She fell in love with a neighboring nobleman. When she found herself carrying his child, he refused her any aid. Having no other choice, she returned home, where some of her relations still lived.”

“They took her into their home?” Dorothea asked, relieved to hear this poor woman had not been totally abandoned.

“In a manner of speaking. They gave her, and later me, a place to sleep, food to eat. Her family always thought her a disgrace and treated her accordingly. They tried to convince her to give me away, but she refused. Not surprisingly, they ignored me. But at least they were not so heartless as to throw us out on the street.”

“It must have been very difficult for you.”

“It was lonely, isolating,” the major admitted. “Not many families in the village encouraged an acquaintance with Emily Roddington’s baseborn son.”

Dorothea tried to imagine him as a young boy, enduring the taunts and isolation. “I am sorry.”

“There’s no need.” His eyes burned into her and she felt the intensity of his emotions. “It’s who I am, it’s what made me strong. Strong enough to survive the army. And Napoleon’s soldiers.”

Dorothea leaned harder against the tree trunk, ignoring the rough bark digging into her back. “I’m very glad that you survived. All of it.”

He tilted his head and she could see the muscle in his cheek working as he struggled to contain himself. An unexpected pressure on the side of her fingers caused her to look down. The major’s ungloved hand was resting close to hers on the picnic blanket.

A swirl of compassion invaded her heart. Carefully, casually, Dorothea inched her fingers closer. One more slow, deliberate move and they would be touching. She pushed her hand over the smooth surface of the blanket and then suddenly-

“I hope you have some saved food for us, Roddy,” a deep baritone voice implored. “I’m starved.”

“Atwood! Benton! What are you doing here?” The major snatched his hand away, leapt to his feet, and walked toward the approaching men.

Startled, Dorothea swung her head around and caught sight of two elegantly garbed gentlemen on horseback. Good heavens, she had heard correctly. It was the marquess. Fighting the edgy quiver of nerves the sight of Lord Atwood produced in her chest, Dorothea concentrated her attention on the other gentleman. The one who had spoken.

She recognized him from last night’s ball, though she could not recall his name.

“Ah, Miss Ellingham, I presume?” The stranger dismounted, then bowed. “I am Viscount Benton. I must say, it is a pure delight to at last meet the woman who has so thoroughly captured my friend’s attention.”

Dorothea’s head turned sharply toward Lord Atwood, fearing what he might have been saying about her. Yet Lord Atwood’s expression remained open, innocent. Lud, what a ninny she was being! The viscount had meant Major Roddington, not the marquess.

Rattled, Dorothea struggled to regain her composure. She lifted her head and stared in frustration at Lord Atwood and the viscount, wishing they would get back on their horses and ride on. She felt awkward and unsettled. The major, however, appeared to be pleased at their unexpected arrival.

Dorothea blew out a sigh and told herself all would be well the moment the two uninvited guests departed.

She forced herself to smile at the viscount. He was a handsome devil, with dark, daring looks. He returned her smile with a devastating one of his own. Oh, dear. The very last thing she needed in her life was another handsome rogue flirting with her.

She very deliberately lowered her chin and turned her head away. Benton did not appear to be a fool. He would easily understand her message.

Dorothea’s gaze was now fixed in the distance, centered upon Lady Meredith and the girls. She watched with curiosity as Lady Meredith settled the three girls in a rowboat that was nestled on the shore. With the help of the girl’s governess, Lady Meredith pushed the small boat off the bank, then hopped inside. Taking up the oars, she began to row in an uneven line toward the other side of the lake.

Dorothea could see the girls smiling and giggling at their mother’s antics. She smiled, too. It looked like they were having a grand time.

“I see that Lady Meredith has taken the girls for a boat ride. Perhaps we can go next, Major Roddington?” Dorothea asked, deciding that if the viscount and marquess wouldn’t leave, then she must find a way to escape. There would only be room in the boat for her and the major.

“What?” The major jerked his head toward the small lake, his eyes widened.

“I heard Dardington’s wife was a plucky kind of woman,” Lord Atwood said with admiration. “I’m sure she knows what she is doing.”

The words had no sooner left the marquess’s mouth when a sharp, splintering sound echoed up from the lake, followed immediately by a chorus of female screams and loud splashes.

“Oh, my goodness, they’ve all fallen into the lake!” Dorothea shouted.

All three men turned, then started sprinting down the hill, pulling off their coats as they ran. Hastily, Dorothea grabbed the reins of Lord Atwood’s and Viscount Benton’s horses before the animals could bolt. Tugging on the reins, she too ran down the hill, the horses obediently following.

Lord Atwood hit the water first, with the major a few seconds behind. There was so much splashing in the middle of the lake, Dorothea could barely distinguish Lady Meredith’s adult form. She appeared to be holding at least one, perhaps two of her daughters as she struggled to stay afloat. There was no sign of the boat. It must have sunk to the bottom after taking on too much water.

“Hurry, hurry,” Dorothea whispered frantically.

It was quickly apparent that Lord Atwood was by far the strongest swimmer. He reached the center of the lake well ahead of the viscount and the major. It was then Dorothea saw two female heads bobbing distinctly above the surface-Lady Meredith and Stephanie, her oldest daughter. The two younger ones were missing.

Without hesitation, Lord Atwood dove under the water. He quickly resurfaced, a child in his arms. He passed the little girl to Viscount Benton, then dove under again. This time he resurfaced alone.

Dorothea tensed, fear pressing heavily on her chest. Her lips began moving in silent prayer. Oh, please, dear God, let the child be found. The marquess dove under a third time. Everyone seemed to be holding their collective breath as they waited for him to emerge, and then finally he broke through the water.

There was a sputtering sound and then a lusty cry as the child he held began to shriek. Dorothea, along with the servants and bystanders who had gathered on the shore, let out a loud cheer. Slowly, they all began to swim toward shore, the men assisting the children and Lady Meredith.

It was a tearful, relieved reunion as Dorothea and the servants gathered around the drenched group. Dorothea snatched a picnic blanket from the ground and wrapped it around Lady Meredith’s shoulders, giving her a fierce hug. She then hugged each of the girls, who were also wrapped in blankets, huddled close to their mother.

“Gracious, we shall have quite a tale to tell Papa, won’t we, girls?” Lady Meredith smiled shakily down at her daughters, who regarded her with wide, solemn eyes.

“I think he shall be very angry with us,” Stephanie replied as her teeth began to chatter.

“Perhaps.” Lady Meredith vigorously rubbed her daughter’s arm. “That’s why we must smile and laugh when we tell him of our adventure, to let him know that we were not afraid. All right, girls?”

Three soggy heads nodded in unison. Dorothea lifted her gaze from Lady Meredith and the children and turned to regard the three men who had risked their lives to save the females.

They were equally wet, though seemingly unconcerned as murky water steadily dripped from their hair and clothing. Caught in the jubilation of the moment, they were joking and laughing with each other, a trait Dorothea had observed was common among men after victoriously escaping peril.

“Christ, Roddy, it seems as if danger likes to follow you around,” Viscount Benton declared.

“Truly,” Lord Atwood agreed. “’Tis hard to believe you survived the war.”

Major Roddington grinned sheepishly, then pushed a lock of wet hair off his forehead. “It must be this English soil. I too am starting to feel as though it is safer for me to be battling the French.”

After taking Miss Ellingham home, a still damp Major Roddington entered his bachelor apartment. His servant, Parker, emerged from the small sitting room, took one look at his master, and smiled.

“By the looks of you, it seems that things went as planned,” Parker said, his grin widening.

“Hardly.” The major gritted his teeth in frustration. He shrugged out of his damp coat and flung it on the floor, then nearly groaned when he caught a glimpse of his best boots. They were stiff and waterlogged, ruined, most likely beyond salvation, and he certainly did not have the necessary funds to replace them. “What the hell did you do to that damn boat, Parker?”

The servant’s face turned ashen at the major’s rare show of temper. “Exactly what you asked, sir.”

“I think not,” Roddy snapped. “The boat was supposed to spring a sizable leak almost immediately when it was put in the water, so it would not be taken too far from shore. Instead, it was rowed to nearly the center of the lake before it splintered into dozens of pieces.”

Parker’s brow knit together with worry. “Was Miss Ellingham injured?”

Roddy slapped his hand down on the table. Hard. “No, you bloody idiot, she wasn’t injured. She wasn’t even in the damn boat.”

“What happened?”

“Lady Meredith and her daughters took the boat out on the lake. I was too far away to even notice. It broke apart when they were far from shore.” Roddy raked his fingers through his hair. “Christ Almighty, they could have easily drowned. The girls are so young, I swear the oldest can’t be more than nine or ten.”

Parker’s face lost any remaining bits of color. “Were they badly hurt?” he asked.

Roddy let out a ragged breath. “Not really. More frightened, I think. The two younger ones were wailing something awful when they were pulled from the water, but their mother managed to calm them down.”

“You were able to save them.” Parker’s tense face collapsed with relief. “Then you’re still a hero.”

“Atwood saved them,” he replied with great resentment, antagonism flowing through his veins. Truly, could it have been any worse? All this careful planning and in the end it was Atwood who garnered all the glory. Fate really was a harsh, unkind master.

I will make my own fate, Roddy vowed to himself. I will not allow myself to be pushed away from everything that should be mine by rights. Especially by Atwood, of all people.

“The marquess pulled all four females from the water?” Parker asked.

The edge of admiration in Parker’s voice made Roddy want to scream in frustration. “No. He rescued the two youngest girls, the ones who actually needed the most help. The older daughter managed to keep her head above the water and while frightened, was not in any real danger. Benton assisted her.”

“And the marchioness?”

Roddy grunted. “She swims like a fish. I made a grand show of lending her assistance, but clearly it was unnecessary.”

Roddy pulled out a chair from his small dining table and sat as a sudden exhaustion overtook his agitation. In his mind he could hear the frightened cries of those innocent young girls, could see the panic and terror on their mother’s face. Maybe he should just give up and walk away. Before some other innocent bystanders were truly injured.

But how could he? This was the closest he had ever come to his prey. If he did not strike now, the opportunity would be lost, possibly forever. ’Twould be foolish indeed to back off when victory was within his grasp.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Parker said contritely. “I did my best. I bored holes in several places on the bottom and sides of the rowboat, just as you told me. I assumed the vessel would start taking on water immediately. I never expected the wood to be so weak that it would splinter.”

Roddy drew in a steadying breath. There was no cause to blame Parker. “Serves us right for trying to stage a rescue on the water. We are cavalry men, Parker, not sailors.”

“Yes, sir.”

Roddy sighed. It was not Parker’s fault that things had gone awry. He, and he alone, must bear the burden of this afternoon’s near disaster. Once again, he thought of abandoning his mission. He was young, capable, and now, thanks to his war record, a man with a few influential friends.

Opportunities for financial gain abounded in India. Even in the American colonies. Perhaps it was time for him to make a move, to go somewhere far away, where he could have a fresh start, a new beginning. Yet as tempting as it seemed, Roddy knew himself too well. He was not ready. There was more to be done, more to accomplish. He could not look toward his future until he settled his past. Here, in England.

“From now on we must be especially diligent and careful,” Roddy told his servant. “We cannot afford any more mistakes. The stakes are simply too high, Parker. Too damn high.”