Sins of a Ruthless Rogue

conspiracies. Most amount to nothing but empty threats. The others are dealt with.”


Clayton stiffened. As Madeline had been dealt with? They’d crushed her under pounds of rock, beaten her, starved her, made her

bathe in the blood of prisoners they tortured in front of her. The emperor may have declared an end to cruel punishments at the

beginning of his reign, but war with Napoleon had changed those ideals.

The emperor rested his hand on Olivia’s cheek. “I will be more alert, but I will not rule in fear. That would give the revolutionaries the

very control they seek.”

“Your entire family will be at risk,” Olivia said.

“We will increase the number of guards, but even I do not risk angering the dowager grand duchess without evidence.”

Golov’s tongue flickered across his lips like a serpent. “We’ll need the code, of course. Then you may go.”

“No.” Olivia’s voice was laced with enough steel that even the emperor raised an eyebrow. Clayton watched her warily. She used to

be soft, like a kitten that needed protecting; this new Olivia was far more alluring than he’d ever thought possible. “If you won’t call off

the fete, we will continue to work on it as well.”

Golov’s vein bulged even more. “I hardly think—”

But the emperor chuckled. “Splendid. It is rare I witness such honest dedication on my behalf.”

Clayton studied Olivia with new respect. She’d always been determined, but when she was younger, that had manifested itself as

stubbornness. He’d suspected she would be incredible if she learned how to use that resolve in the right circumstances.

She was.

But she underestimated the ire of the man standing across from her. Clayton knew just how dangerous that was. “I also need Golov’

s word that no harm will come to Miss Swift or myself while we’re in St. Petersburg.”

The emperor frowned. “Of course, you have it. You are under my protection while in this city.”

Golov’s lips pinched. “Of course. No harm will come to you before the fete.”

While the emperor turned his discussion with Olivia to the night’s ball, Golov leaned in close, his whispered words for Clayton alone.

“Did I not take good care of your other female friend?”

Olivia’s safety was the only reason he didn’t gut the foul man where he stood. “Not quite as well as I took care of General Chilenko.”

Golov hesitated for less than an instant, then drew back. “Ah, that was you.”

The emperor pointed to Clayton. “You will escort Miss Swift to my ball tonight. I will not have it said that I neglected the man who

saved my life.” He smiled almost fondly. “Or his lovely betrothed.”

Clayton bowed. “We’ll be there.”

“And to ensure I do my utmost to protect the imperial family”—Golov paused, his eyes narrowed and gleaming—“tomorrow, I will

work personally with you on the code.”





chapter Thirteen

“You did well with the emperor.” Clayton finally spoke to her once they were alone in the sleigh. Bits of snow kicked up by the horses

rattled against the boards under her feet.

Then why was he scowling? “I’ve spent the last eight years trying to negotiate with politicians.” Had he not asked about her at all

before storming into her mill and casting dire promises? “For the Society for the Humane Treatment of Child Criminals.” She found

herself leaning forward in the seat, hoping to see some flicker of curiosity or admiration. “There have been real reforms. Women

have been separated from the men in the prisons and we’ve also made progress on having the children separated.”

He gave her nothing. “Why are you involved with them?”

“You. What happened, or almost happened, to you was wrong.”

He frowned slightly, but it was more considering than disbelieving. “And now that I’m alive?”

“I’ll continue to work with them.” How could she not? She was relieved to find that now that the shock of Clayton being alive had worn

off, her dedication to the society hadn’t waned. She might have started the society because of him, but her work there now was

because she believed in their mission.

He didn’t contradict her but his gaze searched her as if probing for some missing piece.

There was no missing piece for him to find; she truly had changed. “The mill employs three boys who’d been convicted of theft in

London. We hope to prove that children can be rehabilitated—”

His face hardened, so she let the matter drop. She knew when a man would no longer listen to what she had to say. But the seed

had been planted. One more thing that would make him hesitate to destroy the mill. That would have to be enough for the moment.

She tried to steer the conversation to safer ground. “Have you ever been to an imperial ball?”

“Yes.”

She gave him a dry look. “Please, don’t wax poetic with details.”

His brows drew together. “They are long and tedious.” He shrugged as if at a loss. “People dance.”

It was such a male response that she couldn’t help it. She laughed. She tried to stop. She truly did. But it had been so long since she

’d truly laughed that her body apparently decided to make up for all the missed moments.

A part of her hoped Clayton might join her, but by the time she managed to regain control of herself, he hadn’t even smiled.

But the lines of tension were gone from his brow and he’d relaxed against the seat. And was that a smug glint in his eye? She

couldn’t tell. Had he intended her reaction?

“I try to avoid imperial functions. The emperor and I are not precisely close.”

That had been hard to miss. “I thought you saved his life.”

Clayton’s jaw worked for a moment. He studied her as if deciding whether to trust her with the truth. “Our history isn’t as simple as

that. Two years before I saved his life, Golov captured La Petit and the czar ordered her torture. It took us three days to free her.”

Even though no emotion showed on his face, his left hand tightened into a fist.

The warming bricks in the sleigh couldn’t prevent Olivia’s shiver. She’d spent the last few weeks imagining what torture might await

her, but to actually endure it . . .

“She was mine to protect, and I failed her. The things they did to her—” He turned to the frozen river outside the window. A few

people had already begun to brave their way across on skates and sledges rather than walking to the bridges. But from the way his

hand gripped the seat cushion, she knew that wasn’t what he was seeing.

She placed her hand on his knee. He jerked away from the window, his brows clashing together. But his focus was on her, no longer

on those memories. “Then why did you save him?”

He shifted his leg, so her hand fell away. “More people than the czar would have been hurt.”

He was just so . . . noble. He always had been. She tucked her hands into her muff to keep from reaching for him again. And despite