John inclined his head.
“How do you feel about a visit to the Dutch embassy?” Sudworth asked.
John kept his expression impassive. It could be no coincidence that Raffles was attempting to secure a British presence in what was an acknowledged Dutch hegemony. If he needed any further proof that the letter had nothing to do with bringing Raffles to justice, this was it.
“It hasn’t endeared itself to me.” John prodded the tip of his walking stick into the carpet. “The last time I was there the ambassador called me a dandy. I hate that word.”
“Well, here’s your chance to repay the man. I need a document from his office.”
John inhaled sharply. “What type of document?”
“One signed by King William of the Netherlands himself. It will have a map attached.”
“And if I recover this document for you, then you will return my deed?”
Sudworth lifted a shoulder. “Perhaps.”
John’s eye twitched. “Let’s not play games. You intend to hold this deed over my head permanently, don’t you?”
Sudworth smiled. “Not permanently. But for a good long while. I quite like having a former spy doing my bidding.”
All of his muscles hardened. Even when he uncovered whatever scheme Sudworth was involved in, there was no guarantee that he would be able to recover the deed.
“You like to gamble; I’ll play you for it.” A slight chill settled in his bones. He’d sworn he’d never follow in his father’s path, but it seemed the only answer.
He bit back a snort. If only his brother could hear him now, how he would laugh. Was that not Robert’s reasoning, as well?
Sudworth leaned forwards and picked up the leather sleeve holding the banknote. He slid it into his pocket. “You have nothing I want well enough to risk the deed.”
Netta’s image invaded John’s mind, and he knew. All his vague ideas of perhaps using her as a distraction coalesced into one overriding purpose. The pit in his gut told him that he had been heading in this direction all the time.
Sudworth had a weakness, and John had the means to exploit it.
Netta wouldn’t appreciate being used as a stake.
But it’s not as though John intended to lose. He stood. If the dice weren’t rolling in his favor, he’d cheat. And against a man such as Sudworth, he wouldn’t lose one wink of sleep over it.
He turned to leave, ignoring the warning bell sounding an alarm in his head.Netta would be able to pique the man’s interest. She would do her job and John would reclaim his mines. There was nothing to worry about. All he need do was set the ball into motion.
At the door, he turned.
Sudworth remained seated, the first hints of overindulgence making themselves known in the stretch of his waistcoat, a softness about the jaw. He might have worked hard to attain his wealth, but he now enjoyed the excesses. He was self-satisfied. Smug.
He wouldn’t know what hit him. “Think on it. There just might be something of mine you’ll want to play for.”
And with a swirl of his stick, he turned his back on Sudworth and began to plot.
Chapter Twelve
Netta sucked on the comfit and tried to look interested in the conversation. That amount of acting skill was almost beyond her reach. Did all society woman only talk of such nonsense as the latest cross-stitching technique? It had been twenty minutes of this tedium.
She idly rubbed her breastbone. In another world, another life, this would have been her. No worries about whether she could pay rent that week. No concerns except the latest fashions.
No intrigues with devilishly exciting men.
She didn’t know if it was regret or relief she felt over her changed circumstances. Most likely a bit of both.
“…don’t you think, Miss Courtney?”
