To Taste Temptation by Elizabeth Hoyt Page A

fire at night. You seemed to have a leader, another redheaded man, Private...”
    “MacDonald. Andy MacDonald. Yes, people used to have trouble telling us apart. The hair, you know. Funny, it’s the only thing some people remember about me.” Thornton shook his head. “Poor MacDonald took a ball to the head at Spinner’s Falls. Fell right beside me, he did.”
    Sam kept his gaze steady but could feel a drop of sweat slide down his backbone. He didn’t like thinking of that day, and the crowded London street had already made him uneasy. “And the others?”
    “Dead, all dead, I think. Most fell at Spinner’s Falls, although Ridley survived for a few months after—before the gangrene finally took him.” He grinned ruefully and winked.
    Sam frowned. “Do you—”
    “Mr. Hartley, I believe we still have the shoemaker’s to visit,” Mademoiselle Molyneux cut in.
    Sam broke eye contact with Thornton to look at the ladies. Rebecca was watching him with confusion in her eyes, Lady Emeline’s face was blank, and the old lady merely appeared impatient. “My apologies, ladies. I didn’t mean to bore you with the reminisces of long-ago events.”
    “I apologize as well.” Thornton made another beautiful bow. “It was most pleasant meeting you—”
    “Might I have your address?” Sam asked hastily. “I’d like to talk to you again. Few remember the events of that day.”
    Thornton beamed. “Yes, of course. I, too, enjoy reminiscing. You may find me at my place of business. It’s not too far from here. Only continue down Piccadilly to Dover Street and you will find me. George Thornton and Son, Bootmakers. Founded by my father, don’t you know.”
    “Thank you.” Sam shook hands once again and watched as Thornton made his farewells to the ladies and walked off. His red hair could be discerned in the crowd for some time before he disappeared.
    He turned to Lady Emeline and offered his arm. “Shall we?” And then he made the mistake of looking into her eyes. There was no way she wouldn’t have figured it out. She was an intelligent woman, and she’d heard the entire conversation. But he still felt a sinking in his chest.
    She knew.
    M R . H ARTLEY WAS in London because of the massacre at Spinner’s Falls. His questions to Mr. Thornton had been too pointed, his attention to the replies too intense. Something about the massacre of the 28th Regiment bothered him.
    And Reynaud had died at Spinner’s Falls.
    Emeline placed her fingertips on his forearm, but then couldn’t restrain herself. She gripped the muscle of his arm in clenched fingers. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
    They had started walking, and his face was in profile to her. A muscle in his cheek twitched. “Ma’am?”
    “No!” she hissed at him. Tante and Rebecca were right behind, and she didn’t want them to hear. “Don’t pretend to misunderstand. I’m not a fool.”
    He glanced at her then. “I would never think you a fool.”
    “Then don’t treat me like one. You served in the same regiment as Reynaud. You knew my brother. What are you investigating?”
    “I...” He hesitated. What was he thinking? What was he hiding from her? “I don’t want to bring up unpleasant memories. I don’t want to remind you—”
    “ Remind me! Mon Dieu, can you believe that I have forgotten the death of my only brother? That I would need a word from you to make me think of him? He is with me every day. Every day, I tell you.” She stopped because her breath was coming too roughly, and her voice was beginning to tremble. What idiots men were!
    “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I did not mean to make light of your loss—”
    She snorted at that.
    He continued over her interruption. “But credit me with some sensitivity. I didn’t know how to speak about your brother. About that day. My sin is one of stupidity, not deliberate maliciousness. Forgive me, please.”
    Such a pretty speech. She bit her lip and watched as two young