A Masquerade in the Moonlight - By Kasey Michaels Page 0,128
staring at him, and Sir Ralph blinked quickly several times, suddenly feeling strange—almost the way he felt when gazing into Maxwell’s black eyes. “Once, by calling me names, and now again, believing I’d be so silly as to keep the letter on my person. A man could be robbed, my friend, on such dark pathways as these.”
“But you do have it?” Harewood asked, then heard himself adding, “Please, Donovan?”
“Dear me, yes. It is rather a long swim to return to Washington to fetch it, don’t you think? Tell you what, my friend—we’ll meet again tomorrow night. You bring proof you can deliver all you’ve promised—even now, with Totton gone—and I will bring the letter. Agreed?”
“Tomorrow night?” Sir Ralph slapped his right fist into his left palm, trying to think, desperately wishing to please. “I can’t. Not tomorrow night. I’m so sorry. I—I have another engagement.”
“Truly? It must be an extremely important appointment, my friend, to have you refusing to conclude our bargain before your former ally, the Earl of Laleham, can deduce what you’re about.”
“William?” Sir Ralph’s head shot up, dislodging the hood of his gray domino. Clearly he hadn’t been giving the American enough credit. He should have, for the man really wasn’t as bad as he’d first thought him. He was rather nice, actually. “What do you know about William? You never saw him—”
“Except at Gentleman Jackson’s charming establishment. Yes, I know. But we Irish, Harewood, we’ve the second sight, don’t you know. If you wish to cut the fellow out it’s fine with me. Cut them all out, as you’ve already hinted. Just get me my goods, and my ships—and my money. Never forget the money, my friend. In return, you’ll get your letter, promising we’ll stand back and let you have your own Tea Party, as we did so many years ago. Why, when this is all over, we’ll be allies, won’t we? How cozy. I know our American sailors will be extremely pleased to know they can go back to plying their trade without fear of being boarded and impressed into serving your king.”
“Yes, the money. You’ll be skimming some of the money for yourself before passing the rest along, won’t you, Donovan?” Sir Ralph asked, feeling more relaxed and confident every minute. At last he understood the American! “Perry thought you wanted power, but it’s money you’re after. You don’t care a fig about those sailors, or any embargos, or any thoughts of war or anything! You don’t care if I cut William out, him and the rest of them. Loyalty means nothing to you. Why didn’t I see it before? We’re alike, you and I. No wonder I felt I could deal with you!”
“The meeting, my friend,” Donovan prompted shortly, ignoring Sir Ralph’s revelations, which, to Sir Ralph, was as good as agreeing with them.
He could feel victory pulsing through his blood. He just needed a little time—time to allow Maxwell to perform his magic, making him invulnerable, immortal. Time to eliminate William. Some people might term him crazy, Sir Ralph surmised, but he knew differently. He trusted Maxwell. He trusted his own instincts, his own needs and desires. He trusted Donovan. It would work. It would all work. It had to work!
“Sunday, Donovan,” he hissed, suddenly eager to be on his way, back to his house and to his confession, to give it one more reading before penning a final copy. To pen a note to William, instructing his nemesis, his victim, to come to him at two on Saturday night, after he returned from Green Park with his Shield of Invincibility. It was all coming together so wonderfully, now that he had Maxwell. “Sunday morning. Early. You can come to my house at nine—no, eight. Come to the front door. There will be no more need for hiding by then and, er, I may have a small favor to ask of you—some, er, rather large package you might help me dispose of discreetly. I’ll have all the papers ready—proof that I am a man of my word. Are we agreed?”
“Anything you say, my friend,” Donovan replied smoothly—too smoothly? No, Sir Ralph knew he was looking for bogeymen now, and that was ridiculous. He was so near to his goal. And Donovan called him his friend. My friend. Such comforting music to his ears. “Paddy will be vexed, as he’ll be forced to miss Mass, but when duty calls, heh? However, for now I have agreed to meet with Miss Balfour for