Page 116 of Counting on a Countess
Without a word, Kit strode to the painted china vase, then threw it against the wall. It shattered loudly, filling the room with noise and pieces of ceramic.
“That should be his fucking head,” Kit growled.
Panic and anger and desperation clashed within her. “If we pay him, he’ll just keep coming back for more and more.”
“If we say no,” Kit concluded grimly, “he’ll turn us over to the authorities. Because of my title, we might not be hanged, but we could be transported. Damn it.” He dragged his hands through his hair. “All he did was overhear us. He might not have proof.”
“Maybe he found some.” She rubbed at her face. “Or he’s hoping that his threat is enough to make us bow to his demands. Even if we wanted to, we couldn’t meet his terms.”
Kit said through clenched teeth, “Wish I had a goddamn bayonet to ram into his chest.”
She straightened her shoulders, drawing on the courage that had kept her going all these years. “I think I know what we have to do.”
“Tell Shawe to go hang?” Kit suggested with a vicious snarl.
“Exactly.” She prayed she was making the right decision.
Her husband gave one clipped nod.
A moment later, the door to the drawing room opened. Jory entered, followed by two men wearing riding officers’ uniforms.
Tamsyn’s heart seized at the sight of them. She had fled men like this on more than one occasion, but here they were, in her home.
“Lord and Lady Blakemere,” Jory said snidely. “This is Chief Inspector Edwards and District Officer Wright.”
The customs men bowed. She stiffly nodded in response.
Her uncle looked back and forth between Kit and Tamsyn with a gleeful, expectant look. “Well?”
Kit gave her another slight nod. She took a deep breath.
“No,” she answered.
“As you like,” Jory said brightly. He turned to the customs officers. “Arrest these two in the name of His Majesty. The charge is smuggling.”
Tamsyn’s heart pounded as her uncle pronounced her fate. Yet she held her ground.
Edwards and Wright murmured in surprise, and Kit swore softly under his breath. The air in the room became charged.
After a moment, Edwards said slowly, “These are serious charges to be brought against a nobleman and his wife.”
“Their title didn’t stop ’em from smuggling contraband,” Jory answered.
Wright asked, “Have you any proof?”
A calculating look crept into Jory’s face, and hope within Tamsyn died.
“I do,” he answered. “Come with me, and I’ll show you everything.”
Chapter 30
“Follow me, all of you,” Jory said. He left the drawing room and headed toward the front door. Wright trailed after him.
Tamsyn’s feet were bolted to the floor. She couldn’t move.
Kit was at her side in an instant, wrapping one arm around her waist, supporting her. “Love—”
“My lord, my lady,” Edwards said, gesturing toward the door. He wore a stern expression, one that would brook no argument.
