hostility.
"Ah, yes," she drawled. "I do recall hearing of that particular triumph on my country's part."
A muscle tightened in the duke's jaw, but he would not allow himself to be goaded. "Lord Brookhampton was amongst those feared lost when the ship went down. My sister is inconsolable."
"Why was Brookhampton sent to Spain?"
Blackheath's face closed up. "That is of no importance. The only thing that matters is finding him and bringing him safely back to England."
"Well, I'll ask the fish and crabs off Calais, then, if they happen to remember eating him."
This time, the duke could not rein in his anger. He turned on her, his eyes so dark and savage that Eva involuntarily took a step back. "That was crass and uncalled-for. We are talking about a human life, here."
"We are talking about an Englishman who'd just as soon see Americans slaughtered, starved, and beaten into submission."
"If you believe that, then you are a fool," he said coldly. "There are those in Parliament, and throughout England, who are friends of America. Men like Pitt and Burke, who wish to see this war at an end, who oppose George's American policy, who are willing to meet your countrymens' demands."
"And are you one of them?" she asked, her tone poisonously sweet.
His eyes had never seemed so black. "Two of my sisters-in-law are American. My brother Charles — the one you struck down — served with the army in Boston, where he gained both an understanding of the American people and sympathy for their plight. He owes his life to their benevolence. Yes, madam, I can assure you that I am one of them , and the sooner there's an end to this damnable conflict, the happier I shall be."
Eva looked away, suddenly regretting her caustic words. Humility was a bitter pill to swallow. "So what do you want from me?"
"Your help in finding out what happened to Lord Brookhampton."
She shrugged. "I don't know how much help I can be. If the reports say he went down with the ship, that's probably exactly what happened."
"Reports can be falsified. Perry might have used a different name to escape detection. He might have been injured, taken in as a hostage . . . Any number of things might have occurred. I will not be satisfied until I have the truth."
"Isn't that something you can find yourself?"
"As you so quickly reminded me, madam, I am English — not exactly a friend of the French, and soon to be an enemy, if you Yankees get your way." Inwardly Eva winced, though she knew the English, thanks to their own spies, knew exactly what the Americans had been up to. "You, on the other hand, can move quite comfortably within the higher echelons of French society. I want you to find out if Perry survived. If he did, I want you to learn where he is imprisoned." His jaw tightened and he looked away, his voice harsh. "I want you to help me give my sister her life back."
I want you to help me give my sister her life back.
Nothing he might have said could have swayed her more. Blackheath had said she was young, romantic, and in love. Eva remembered what it had been like to be young, romantic, and in love. She remembered it with a bitter pang that still hurt after all these years, causing the back of her throat to ache with the pain of betrayal, the loss of innocence, the death of dreams. She had no desire whatsoever to help the duke, of course. But his sister . . .
She gave a deep sigh. "I will do what I can, Blackheath. But not for you. For your sister."
"Despite the fact you've never met her?"
"It doesn't matter. She's a woman. She hurts. I sympathize with her pain."
"You think men do not hurt?"
"I know men do not hurt. How can they? They do not have hearts, which is why they take such delight in breaking ours."
He studied her for a long moment, and Eva had the uncanny sensation he could see right into her soul and all its long-buried, deeply guarded secrets. She shivered.
"Ah, yes," she drawled. "I do recall hearing of that particular triumph on my country's part."
A muscle tightened in the duke's jaw, but he would not allow himself to be goaded. "Lord Brookhampton was amongst those feared lost when the ship went down. My sister is inconsolable."
"Why was Brookhampton sent to Spain?"
Blackheath's face closed up. "That is of no importance. The only thing that matters is finding him and bringing him safely back to England."
"Well, I'll ask the fish and crabs off Calais, then, if they happen to remember eating him."
This time, the duke could not rein in his anger. He turned on her, his eyes so dark and savage that Eva involuntarily took a step back. "That was crass and uncalled-for. We are talking about a human life, here."
"We are talking about an Englishman who'd just as soon see Americans slaughtered, starved, and beaten into submission."
"If you believe that, then you are a fool," he said coldly. "There are those in Parliament, and throughout England, who are friends of America. Men like Pitt and Burke, who wish to see this war at an end, who oppose George's American policy, who are willing to meet your countrymens' demands."
"And are you one of them?" she asked, her tone poisonously sweet.
His eyes had never seemed so black. "Two of my sisters-in-law are American. My brother Charles — the one you struck down — served with the army in Boston, where he gained both an understanding of the American people and sympathy for their plight. He owes his life to their benevolence. Yes, madam, I can assure you that I am one of them , and the sooner there's an end to this damnable conflict, the happier I shall be."
Eva looked away, suddenly regretting her caustic words. Humility was a bitter pill to swallow. "So what do you want from me?"
"Your help in finding out what happened to Lord Brookhampton."
She shrugged. "I don't know how much help I can be. If the reports say he went down with the ship, that's probably exactly what happened."
"Reports can be falsified. Perry might have used a different name to escape detection. He might have been injured, taken in as a hostage . . . Any number of things might have occurred. I will not be satisfied until I have the truth."
"Isn't that something you can find yourself?"
"As you so quickly reminded me, madam, I am English — not exactly a friend of the French, and soon to be an enemy, if you Yankees get your way." Inwardly Eva winced, though she knew the English, thanks to their own spies, knew exactly what the Americans had been up to. "You, on the other hand, can move quite comfortably within the higher echelons of French society. I want you to find out if Perry survived. If he did, I want you to learn where he is imprisoned." His jaw tightened and he looked away, his voice harsh. "I want you to help me give my sister her life back."
I want you to help me give my sister her life back.
Nothing he might have said could have swayed her more. Blackheath had said she was young, romantic, and in love. Eva remembered what it had been like to be young, romantic, and in love. She remembered it with a bitter pang that still hurt after all these years, causing the back of her throat to ache with the pain of betrayal, the loss of innocence, the death of dreams. She had no desire whatsoever to help the duke, of course. But his sister . . .
She gave a deep sigh. "I will do what I can, Blackheath. But not for you. For your sister."
"Despite the fact you've never met her?"
"It doesn't matter. She's a woman. She hurts. I sympathize with her pain."
"You think men do not hurt?"
"I know men do not hurt. How can they? They do not have hearts, which is why they take such delight in breaking ours."
He studied her for a long moment, and Eva had the uncanny sensation he could see right into her soul and all its long-buried, deeply guarded secrets. She shivered.
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