Sins of a Ruthless Rogue

She did want to save the czar. That desire was unfeigned. She’d spent eight years doing everything she could to make restitution

for her part in what had happened to Clayton. She didn’t want to add more to the tally. Clayton’s death had been a wound on her

soul that never healed.

Olivia waited by her bedroom door, her reticule in hand. She managed to throw open the door right as her father passed. “Papa?”

He whirled toward her, cane lifted, his square face more startled than angry. Perhaps with a night’s sleep he’d be able to see he’d

come to the wrong conclusion about Clayton. He’d see that someone else was responsible for the crimes at the mill.

He patted her cheek. “Go back to bed, pet.”

“I’m coming with you to the court. I have to see Clayton.”

Her father’s face reddened. “You will not.”

She’d never disobeyed her father. She knew better. Last summer, her father’s favorite horse had bitten him. He’d had the animal

destroyed before nightfall.

But this was for Clayton. She lifted her chin. “I will.”

She’d landed on the floor before she’d even realized her father had struck her legs with his cane.

She clutched the back of her calf, rubbing it frantically with her hands. He’d struck her. He hadn’t hit her since she’d been out of the

schoolroom.

She tried to stop her cries long enough to talk.

“Papa, Clayton isn’t guilty. I know he’s not. I have to tell—”

Fire exploded across her shoulders. She cried out, her heaving sobs mingling with whimpers.

“The boy is a criminal. He used you and lied to you. He tried to use you against me to take the mill from me. You will stay here. I will

not have you labeled loose for that son of a whore.”

He lifted his cane and she tried to raise her arms to protect her face but they shook so badly she couldn’t get them up. She tried to

speak, to stay brave, but the only thing that would come out of her mouth were pleas for him not to hit her again. Apologies for

angering him.

Her father’s voice was black with cold rage. “Go back to bed.”

She’d get up. Follow after he left.

“If I see you at the court, there will be consequences.”

She curled tighter on the floor. Clayton wouldn’t be alone. The magistrates would be able to discover the truth. They’d see that her

father was wrong about Clayton. That’s what they did. Discovered the truth.

Clayton would be fine.

Olivia had to warn the czar.

“So you aren’t going to tell me the truth,” Clayton said.

“That is the truth.”

“But not all of it.”

She hated that he could still read her so clearly. She’d never been able to hide anything from him for long. “You come and threaten

my mill. Forgive me if that doesn’t inspire openness.”

The cart hit another rut, and she caught herself by placing her hand on Clayton’s thigh. The muscles tensed under her fingers.

Clayton shifted his leg away from her. “You’ve done nothing but give me lies and keep secrets, and then you expect me to believe

the mill is worth saving?”

Yes. That’s why she kept them. “Sam Gaines, a fourteen-year-old boy from the village, was hanged in London for stealing a loaf of

bread. Did you know his family? His father, Douglas, worked at the mill at the same time you did.”

Clayton shrugged.

She had to make him see reason. “Then the vicar pointed out if the boys had jobs to keep them in town, we could keep them safe.”

Clayton only turned up the collar of his jacket against the wind. “You realize this argument simply convinces me that your father failed

even more people.”

She clenched her teeth until her jaw ached. “Twelve new families have moved to the town since the mill has been refurbished. The

Diplows convinced their two sons to stay in town to work at the mill. The vicar was able to fix the hole in the roof of the church. I know

you remember the vicar. He would lend you books.”

“What I remember is being taken from my bed in the middle of the night and being thrown into a cell that was covered in piss and

mold. I remember the beating the guards gave me, breaking my rib. I remember the other prisoners trying to strip me of my coat

while I was vomiting from the pain.” His voice remained perfectly calm, perfectly composed. But a single muscle ticked along his

jaw.

She didn’t want to know those details. But she needed them. She still had nightmares about what Clayton might have suffered, and

now these new images would fill them. But at least she’d be able to tell what was real and what was imagined when she awoke. “I’m

sorr—”

“You know I don’t believe in apologies.”

“Then what am I supposed to say?”

“Nothing. It is a simple statement of fact.”

No, it wasn’t. And she wouldn’t let him pretend that it was. He might hide his true emotions deep, but they did exist whether he

wanted them to or not. “Then why did you tell me? To shock me into silence?”

“That isn’t—”

“Because that obviously won’t work with me. To make me feel guilty, then?”

His jaw clenched and unclenched several times before he spoke. “No.”

“But that’s the result. You may like to pretend that I’m some coldhearted traitor, but I’m not. When you tell me a story like that, it tears

me apart. I would give up anything to have spared you that.”

His left hand tightened on the reins. “I told you so you’d realize your sentimental arguments about the mill are useless.”

They weren’t. Not if they’d provoked this reaction. But she knew pressing him about it would only ensure he steeled himself against

it in the future. She switched topics. “Did you have any luck with the code last night?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you had?”

“Doubtful. But in this case, it’s irrelevant.”

“Can I see it?”

He pulled the paper out of his jacket and handed it to her. She unfolded it, the thick gloves on her fingers making the movements

awkward. The irregular dark scrawl she remembered from the night before covered the page.

“Arshun said La Petit had broken this code.”

“She didn’t.”

“Have you seen it before?” The letters were Cyrillic. That in itself was almost code enough for her. Her Russian reading skills were

even more unpracticed than her verbal ones.

He looked up from the road. After his careful disinterest, his sudden focus was almost invasive. Yet heady. She wouldn’t be the first

to look away.

“Yes, but we never had reason to try to decipher it.”

She had to concentrate to keep her thoughts on the code rather than the fact that she couldn’t breathe. “Can you now?”

His eyes narrowed. “Perhaps.”

“Truly? I need something to tell my superiors soon.”

His hand tightened on the reins. “You—”

“I wasn’t serious.”

Clayton returned his gaze to the road in front of them. “I no longer play games.”