Surrender by Brenda Joyce Page A

her.”
    Lucas laughed, standing. “You are in a twist because of a woman! This is rich! Are you certain she did not reject you? And whom, pray tell, are we discussing?”
    “I rejected her,” Jack said firmly. But suddenly he recalled the way he had left Roselynd—and how shocked and hurt she had been. “We are discussing the Countess D’Orsay. And Lucas? I am not interested in becoming ensnared.” He added, “No matter how beautiful and desperate she is.”
    “Since when have you ever been ensnared by a woman?” Lucas asked, surprised.
    Jack looked grimly at him. Maybe it was time to be honest, not with his brother, but with himself. “I got her out of France four years ago, with her husband and her daughter. And the problem is that I could not forget her then, and I am afraid I cannot forget her now.”

CHAPTER FOUR
    T HE B LACK B RIAR Inn was very busy; every table was full. It was Friday afternoon, so apparently a great many of the nearby village men had stopped by for a mug of ale. The conversation was loud and raucous. Tobacco wafted in the air.
    Evelyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She did not care for this crowd, or the man she had come to meet. He was a very big, dark man in a striped jersey, a vest over that. The vest revealed the pistol he wore, as well as the dagger. His black trousers were tucked into a seaman’s boots. He was unshaven, wore a cuff earring in one ear, and one of his front teeth was black.
    He also smelled, and not of the sea. She did not think he had bathed in a month.
    Several days had passed since her heated encounter with Jack Greystone. She was still in some disbelief—both over her having kissed him, and his having refused her. What had she been thinking? How had she acted as she had, when she was in mourning? How could he have been so uncaring? So indifferent to her cause? And he had accused her of being dangerous! She would never understand what he had meant by that.
    And to think that, for all these years, she had secretly thought of Greystone as a hero!
    But she was hurt by his rejection, just as she was hurt by how he had judged her. It did not seem fair, yet she knew, firsthand, that life was so rarely fair.
    Determined to move on, as she must do for her daughter’s sake, she had since toured the tin mine. And she had been shocked to see how run-down the mine and warehouse were. The new manager wanted to discuss repairing the facilities. He believed they were not shipping enough ore because they were not extracting enough tin. She did not even have to ask to know that repairing anything would be costly, too costly, as far as she was concerned. And when she had asked the previous manager’s opinion, he did not agree that there had been any kind of theft in the mining operations.
    How could she be in this position now? She should be with her daughter, teaching her to read and write, to dance, play the piano and sew. But they did not even own a piano now, and instead, she was at the Black Briar Inn, about to discuss a very dangerous proposition with yet another smuggler—this one frightening in appearance.
    She had gone to Henri’s grave every day, bringing fresh flowers. Instead of missing him, she was angry.
    But she was even angrier with Greystone.
    Her pondering was interrupted. “So ye wish for me to run to France and bring back yer husband’s chest,” Ed Whyte said, grinning. He seemed to like the idea.
    Evelyn inhaled and focused on the man she was seated with. It hadn’t taken her very long to decide to find another smuggler to hire—the fact that she could not count on the mine for revenues had made the choice for her—and John Trim had given her several names. But Trim hadn’t been thrilled to suggest either Whyte or his associates. “They’re a rough bunch, my lady,” he had said. “And no great lady should consort with the likes of Whyte and his cronies.”
    Evelyn hadn’t explained why she needed to interview smugglers other than Greystone,