Sins of a Ruthless Rogue

she had scars on her wrists.

It was much easier to focus on trailing the colonel instead. Olivia’s hand on his arm, they slipped out of the supper room behind the

colonel. He walked down the corridor back toward the ballroom, then ducked into a room on his right.

Clayton knew from the layout of the palace that the room was only a small parlor. It would hold nothing of interest. Was he meeting

someone, then? Clayton pressed his finger to his lips and motioned for Olivia to remain where she was. After several moments, no

one else had joined the colonel.

Clayton crept to the door.

It was completely silent inside at first, but then came the faint scrape of someone lighting a candle.

Soon the sweet, acrid scent of a burning cheroot drifted from the room. Not an assignation. The man had secreted himself away for

a smoke rather than braving the cold.

At least, that’s how he wanted it to appear.

Clayton caught Olivia’s hand and pulled her behind him. It would be obvious he wasn’t alone, but the colonel couldn’t see Olivia’s

face. Clayton swung open the door with a flourish.

The colonel leaned idly on the wall near the stove. The window was open next to him, letting most of the smoke waft out.

“Oh, pardon,” Clayton said. “We’ll find an unoccupied room.”

The colonel crushed the cheroot against the windowsill, then tossed it outside. He had the same sunken eyes as his brother but they

looked even sicklier in the colonel’s fleshy face. “I was just leaving.”

“No need to leave on our account. My lady just needs to . . . fix her hem.” He paused and let confusion wash over his face. “I say,

aren’t you a friend of Count Arshun?”

The colonel’s eyes flickered past Clayton, trying to see behind him. “No. I cannot say I know the man.”

“Ah, too bad. I owe the count a rather large sum at cards. But I can’t seem to locate him.”

The colonel ran a hand down the medals adorning his chest. “I cannot help you.” He skirted past them and returned to the ballroom.

Clayton shut the door to the parlor once he disappeared. And counted to thirty. “Now we will watch who he contacts.” He ushered her

back into the corridor.

“You think he will?”

“Either that or it will make him edgy. Nervous men make mistakes.”

She glanced back over her shoulder. “You are good at this.”

It wasn’t something to boast of. “I was a spy for over a decade.”

“How did you become a spy? I know you don’t believe me, but my father did tell me that you were dead.”

“The hour before I was to hang, a man came to me and offered me a deal—I would dedicate my life to the service of the Crown in

exchange for keeping it. I took his offer. We were sent on missions they wouldn’t risk on a dog.” But Clayton had gobbled up every

minute of training. Every chance to harden his heart.

And those lessons couldn’t be unlearned.

“I lied. I killed. I destroyed.”

“But you survived.”

“Yes.”

She laid her hand over his when he would have opened the door to the ballroom. “No matter what you think of me, I’m glad of that.”

The devil would mock him for a fool, but he was rather afraid he believed her.

The ballroom was a jumble of chaos. Men shouted at footmen to bring sleighs. Servants ran about with their arms loaded down with

furs and jackets.

“Do you see him?” Olivia murmured.

Clayton relaxed his gaze, seeing the entire room rather than the individuals in it. Patterns and movement. Ignoring all the colors but

green.

He spotted him. “By the door.”

The colonel’s stride was determined. A touch too fast to be casual.

Golov stepped directly in their path. “I look forward to our meeting tomorrow, Baron.” His attention drifted to Olivia and a strange half

smile stretched his lips. “I am eager to protect the czar.”

“I’m eager to speak to your brother.” Clayton moved to the right to see around him, but the colonel was already gone. Damnation. At

least he’d likely be staying in his own home. Clayton could find him later.

“I didn’t know you were acquainted.”

“Not as well as we will be.”

Golov drew back slightly, his eyes mere slashes. “What do you wish to speak to him about?”

“A mutual friend.”

“My brother doesn’t have friends.”

Clayton flashed his teeth, not bothering to hide his dislike. “Neither do I.”





chapter Seventeen

Clayton lifted his hand and knocked lightly on the door that joined his room with Olivia’s. He kept the sound quiet enough that if she’d

already gone to bed, the noise wouldn’t disturb her. In fact, if she was breathing too loudly, she probably wouldn’t hear.

What was he even doing at the door? He should be out prowling the streets for Arshun or the colonel, and he was here. Ready to

give up his entire night for Olivia.

Saving the czar mattered to her. And strangely, he found it now mattered to him, too.

He could work on the code alone. But chances were slim he’d be able to decipher it in time on his own. His room was buried in the

stacks of books and crates of papers he’d requested from Kate. Especially his bed. Kate must have taken great pleasure in giving

the servants that order. It was too much to sort through on his own in the time he had. It would go faster with two sets of eyes. And

Olivia had always been observant.

Except, perhaps, when it had come to her father. But he was forced to agree with her. She’d been young and naive. It was likely she

hadn’t intended the consequences her actions had earned him.

But her father had. Nothing she could say would ever change that.

He lifted his hand away from the door. She’d likely come home and slipped into a soft night rail and into a blissfully unobstructed

bed.

A vision of her spread out under the white sheets prompted him to take a half step from the door. He couldn’t wake Olivia, just as he

hadn’t been able to use her as bait. Every instinct in him screamed to protect her.

He still wasn’t sure what had come over him at the ball, and worse, he wasn’t entirely sure he regretted it.

No, you are far better.

Those words taunted him. Jumbling around in his brain until he wanted to rip open his skull and pry them out.

He shouldn’t care what she thought of him.

But when she’d said that, he’d wanted it to be true. It was an awkward feeling. One he was fairly certain pointed to some weakness

in him. And yet that realization hadn’t helped the feeling dissipate.

Clayton pressed his forehead against the wooden door, swearing when it collided with his nose. He stumbled back, allowing the

door to open.

Olivia didn’t look the least contrite as he clutched his nose like an utter fool.

“Is your goal to see me in all states of undress?” Her voice was heavy with sleep and she had on a thick woolen dressing gown. Her