What A Rogue Wants (27 page)

Grey thought for a moment and almost
felt foolish to mention Constance, but surely Edward would want to
know every detail. “There was a chambermaid in the room. Constance.
She bribed one of the guards to let her in to finish her
work.”

Edward waved a hand. “That’s normal.
I’m forever running into maids here in places they shouldn’t be.
They sleep too late or work too slow and then have to find a way to
sneak and catch up because they’re afraid they’ll get in trouble.
Forget her. She’s trivial.”

Grey’s face burned with embarrassment.
He’d have to do better. “She’s forgotten. But I must say I had no
idea you understood the minds of the staff so well.”

Edward scowled. “There’s a great deal
you don’t know about me, Grey.”

Grey clenched his jaw on harsh retort.
Fighting would do no good. “So we proceed as if he’s committed
treason, even though we don’t think it so?”

“
Yes. We may not think
it’s so, but until we’re certain it’s not, he’s an enemy of the
Crown. Proceed as if he’s a thief or worse.”

Grey frowned. “What do you mean, “’or
worse?’”

Edward held himself stiff as he
answered. “I mean we must consider all possibilities. Even the
worst ones such as Stratmore is not only a thief, but perhaps a
traitor who is working to overthrow the king.”

Grey grimaced. “That’s
absurd.”

The corner of Edward’s mouth jerked
with a tick. “You’re wrong. It’s not absurd. It’s being cautious.
And caution will keep you alive. Don’t forget that.”

Grey nodded. Perhaps Edward was right.
He’d been a spy far longer than Grey. “I won’t forget.”

Edward’s shoulders slumped. Had his
brother been expecting a fight? Grey was heartily glad he’d
listened for once in his life. Edward waved toward the door. “You
two better get going. The sooner this nasty business is behind us
the better.”

Grey couldn’t agree more. Madelaine
would have enough reason to hate him, but if she learned he was
responsible for taking her father to the tower on charges of
treason, she’d hate him even more. He wanted things settled,
preferably in the duke’s favor.

“
Are you ready,” he asked
Gravenhurst. “We’ve a hard ride ahead of us, and an even harder
confrontation. There’s no doubt in my mind Stratmore won’t like
being hauled to the tower by us under suspicion of treason, and the
duke already has a mild dislike of me.”

His brother blinked at him. “Why’s
that?” Edward asked as he sat down.

“
It doesn’t matter. The
situation he disliked is no longer.” Grey narrowed his eyes at
Gravenhurst, a silent warning to keep what he knew to himself.
Gravenhurst gave a barely perceptible inclination.

“
You’re sure?” Edward
prodded.

“
Yes,” Grey said in a tone
he hoped Edward would recognize as final.

“
All right then. You two
be sure to keep Stratmore’s imprisonment in the tower a secret. No
one is to know but the three of us, until I or the king say
otherwise.”

Grey didn’t like the way Edward was
barking orders at him as if he were dull-witted. “I read the
letter, Edward, and Gravenhurst did too. We know the king’s
wishes.”

“
Sorry,” Edward said. “It
will take me a while to be used to being in charge without being
overbearing.”

“
In charge?” Grey
repeated.

“
With Father dead,
Stratmore imprisoned, and Pearson missing for the moment, I’m, by
default, the leader of our little circle.”

“
So you are,” Grey agreed,
trying not to think about his father or Madelaine, or anything but
the job ahead of him. “What if Stratmore’s servants question
us?”

“
They won’t. Stratmore
will know what’s at stake if anyone should find out about his
imprisonment. Even if he’s not found guilty and hung, his
daughter’s future would be jeopardized, if word got out. He won’t
want that. I’ve no worry he won’t cooperate.”

“
I disagree,” Gravenhurst
said. “You assume he’s innocent, though you just told us to proceed
as if he’s not only a thief but a conspirator in a plot to
overthrow the king. If he’s guilty, he may very well run. His life
will probably mean more to him in that case than his daughter
making a good match.”

Edward steepled his hands in front of
his face, his brow furrowing. Grey was finding it hard focusing on
anything but his worry for Madelaine. He struggled to push thoughts
of her from his mind.

“
You’re right.” Edward
moved to stand. “Lure Stratmore away from his house, secure him,
and then send the servants away so you can search the house for the
king’s paper or any clues. Do not leave any space unturned. If it’s
there, if it still exists, you need to find it and destroy it. And
if you find anything else of importance, bring it to
me.”

“
And if we find
nothing?”

“
Then treat him as if he’s
guilty, until the king decides otherwise.”

Within the hour, Grey and Gravenhurst
were on the road to Lancashire. They didn’t speak for a while,
until they stopped to water the horses then Gravenhurst said, “Do
you expect me to believe you’ve forgotten the lady and you can be
impartial?”

Grey gritted his teeth together,
releasing them after he felt under control. “I do. I know my duty,
and duty will always be first to me.”

“
Bah,” Gravenhurst mumbled
as he dismounted. “Then you’re a daft fool who mistakenly believes
himself indestructible. That woman’s your deadly weakness, no
matter how strong you think you are. Stay away from
her.”

Even in the tower the
social classes were evident,
if
you had enough money to purchase comfortable
quarters, but there were some crimes, such as the ones Madelaine’s
father stood accused of, that prohibited the prisoner being allowed
to pay for acceptable quarters. For the worst criminals the tower
was an abominably dreary place crawling with bugs and rats and
filled with the constant nerve-grating moans of those who’d been
condemned to wait there until trial or death, whichever fate or the
king served them.

Grey had walked through the noisy
halls three days prior, his body recoiling at the sights and sounds
within the dingy walls. Yet he managed to do his duty and force one
foot after the other to take Stratmore to the dungeon where he was
to be kept in secret, while he and Gravenhurst tried to get him to
confess his guilt and await Edward’s arrival.

In order to lessen the chance of the
guards or anyone who might see Gravenhurst or Grey coming or going
from the dungeon, they both agreed to stay there until Edward
arrived and Stratmore’s fate was decided. After one night in the
shadowy darkness of the dungeon, Grey understood why the tower
dungeon was referred to as the pit of Hell. Dampness permeated the
walls, the floors, the air, and worst of all, the bug-infested cot
Grey had to sleep on. And though the pitiful pleas for release were
barely distinguishable down here, the muffled moans did carry
through the air, down the winding stone steps, and seep under the
locked, dark wooden door. The constant hint of noise was like an
annoying whisper in Grey’s ear. He’d taken to humming to himself to
block out the sounds of misery.

But it was neither the dampness nor
the noise that kept him up at night. His worry for Madelaine did
that. If Stratmore was guilty, what would become of her? So far the
man had maintained his innocence, but his shifty eyes hid
something. By the third day of being locked in the tower, trying
unsuccessfully to get Stratmore to admit his guilt, Grey was
relieved when Edward arrived, but his relief was short
lived.

“
What do you mean,
Stratmore murdered Pearson?” Grey asked, facing Edward in the small
confines of the entranceway to the room they had Stratmore locked
in.

Gravenhurst, who’d been preoccupied
shoving the bread and cheese Edward had brought them into his
mouth, audibly swallowed his food before speaking. “Let me get this
straight.” He stood from where he’d been sitting at a filthy table.
“You’re telling us Stratmore murdered Pearson―a brother in arms?”
Gravenhurst’s voice had dropped to a low whisper.

“
I’m telling you that I
found Pearson dead.” Anger vibrated Edward’s fierce whisper.
“Stabbed repeatedly in the gut. Beside his body the word ‘honor’
had been drawn in the dirt with an X through it. The conclusion is
obvious.”

“
How does that prove
Stratmore’s guilt?” Grey demanded.

“
Honor
is the word engraved on the inside of Stratmore’s ring that
the king gave him,” Edward said patiently.

Grey shook his head. “I don’t believe
for a second the man would be so stupid as to kill a fellow spy,
and then engrave his name in the dirt as a calling card to lead us
straight to him. Besides, what would be his motive for killing
Pearson?”

“
Money.” Gravenhurst’s
voice was toneless. “It’s well known his coffers are extremely low,
and he and the king have fought much of late. Maybe Stratmore’s
turned traitor, and he’s being paid by the Frenchies to gather
information. Mayhap Pearson found out, or maybe Stratmore’s been
paid to kill us one by one so Napoleon, the rutting bastard, will
win the war.”

“
You’ve been a spy too
long,” Grey said, not liking how Edward appeared to be considering
Gravenhurst’s ludicrous suggestions. It was one thing to proceed
with caution, but it was quite another to proceed on a mad
conjecture. “The man is not so stupid as to trace the word ‘honor’
in the dirt for everyone to see.”

“
But he didn’t write it,”
Edward said. “Pearson did.”

“
His dead corpse told you
so, did it?” Grey demanded.

Edward flushed at this,
but met Grey’s gaze with sharp green eyes. “I checked Pearson’s
fingertips. They were caked with dirt. The word had been written in
blood. His blood. I know because I forced myself to bend his stiff
arm and hand and write another word in the dirt to see if the width
of his fingertip and the markings on his skin would match what was
in the dirt. It did. Perfectly. There’s no doubt in my mind Pearson
wrote the word
honor
and then crossed it out.”

Grey focused on breathing through his
clenched teeth and fought the desire to punch his brother in the
nose. “If Pearson wanted everyone to know who murdered him why the
hell wouldn’t he have just written Stratmore’s name?”

“
I can’t say,
Grey
. I’ve not got
access to the dead man’s thoughts, so all I can do is
speculate.”

Grey jerked his gaze away from the
insect climbing the wall that he’d been focusing on to try to calm
himself and met his brother’s gaze. “I don’t see what this has to
do with the king’s paper. If Stratmore is selling secrets to the
French or killing spies for money, what would he need the damned
paper for?”

“
Nothing.” Edward pulled
out a chair to sprawl in it. “I don’t have the answers yet, but I
plan to get them.”

Gravenhurst drummed his fingers on the
table. “If Stratmore is guilty then we’ve stopped him. He’s locked
up here, and our secrets, as well as our lives, are
safe.”

Edward shook his head. “It’s not so
simple. Someone tried to shoot me when I was leaving Pearson’s
house. I tracked them to the woods, but I couldn’t find
them.”

Fatigue crashed into Grey, and he
reluctantly pulled out the last chair and sank into it. “So you
really think Stratmore was working with someone who is still out
there?”

Edward nodded. “And if I’m right, that
person will be coming for us.”

Grey rolled his shoulders to combat
his mounting tension. Evidence was piling up against Madelaine’s
father. Evidence that seemed hard to deny.

Gravenhurst leaned forward. “Keep the
faith, Grey. Edward isn’t always right. Only usually.”

Edward took a drink from his flask,
then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, eyeing Grey with
what appeared to be amusement mingled with respect. “No, I’m not
always right. But I’ve never been wrong when it comes to my
work.”

Grey glanced at Gravenhurst who nodded
in confirmation.