All Men Are Rogues Read Online Free PDF Page B

cloudless sky shimmered with stars, and the pale orb of the moon stared down at them as they strolled along the garden path. Pebbles crunched under their shoes and massaged the soles of Evelyn’s feet against her thin slippers. She let out a sigh. She had known Angel for years. She could be open with him. To some extent.
    “I heard about your father, Evelyn,” he began in Spanish. “He was a good man. I am so sorry.”
    She nodded, slowly. “Thank you.”
    “I must confess, I am surprised to find you back in England.”
    “Why?”
    He pressed his lush lips together. “My father told me what happened.”
    She shuddered. “It was…horrible. Every time I think about it…I become ill.”
    He stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder and wrapped his arms about her. He smelled of spicy, sharp cologne. She pressed her nose into the soft silk of his jacket, relishing the comfort for a moment, then slowly pushed herself away. “I try not to dwell on it. It is overwhelming, and I need to carry on, to continue.”
    He nodded. “I have always feared facing it, like you did. My papa…well, it is all part of the business, but still…”
    Angel’s father also worked in intelligence. It was something understood but never discussed.
    “But you have no anger toward the English for what they’ve done?” he asked, gruffly.
    She furrowed her brow.
    He let out a long breath of air. “Papa told me that he was killed by his own.”
    “B…but that is impossible,” she slipped into English.
    “The British think he betrayed his country. My father does not believe it. I do not either. But who knows the truth?”
    She blinked. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
    “Sí.”
    “How could anyone think such a thing? The man would rather have cut off his own arm than turn traitor.”
    “I do not pretend to understand the English. Sometimes I think they are…” He pointed to his forehead. “What is the English word for chiflado ? But they are our friends and we need their help to free our country.”
    A cloud of confusion swept over her. How could anyone could ever believe her father disloyal? She dropped down on a cold stone bench. “It boggles the mind.”
    He sat down beside her. “So what do you do now?”
    She shook her head, trying to clear it. “How in heaven’s name could anyone ever believe for a moment that my father was untrue?” The man had given his life, in many ways had given up his family, in service of his country.
    He grasped her hand in his. “Perhaps my father was wrong…”
    She glared at him.
    He shrugged. “It happens.”
    She shook her head again. Everything seemed distorted suddenly. Unearthly, unreal. Father had sent her to London with his last breath. But he had told her to collect her legacy and leave, posthaste.
    “Do you have family? Protection? Does this Barclay care for you?”
    “What? Ah. No.” She bit her lip, lost in thought. “I have family here, but distant. I take care of myself. You know that, Angel.”
    “You are a young lady whose father has been murdered before her eyes. Do not be foolish. You need protection, Evelyn.”
    She straightened her shoulders and looked directly into those chocolate brown eyes. She just needed some time in London. Not long. If she could follow her father’s instructions, then she would be all right. She had to be. “I can take care of myself, Angel.”
    “You English are irracional .” He stood and began pacing up and down the shallow path bordering the bench, the pebbles crunching angrily under his shiny buckled shoes. “Your father was murdered by your own government and you think you are safe here?” He huffed and continued pacing. “You know as well as I, better than me, that this is not a game. Let me help you.” He stopped short, crouching down before her. “Father is working with Wellington. He has resources. Let us help you.”
    Tears of gratitude welled up in her eyes, threatening to break free and