Page 35 of His Wife, the Spy
Jasper poured the wax over the envelope and placed his seal in the center.
I have Some exploSive goSSip to Share when I arrive in London,Gareth had written.
The letter had arrived, but he hadn’t. He also hadn’t returned to his wife in Paris. No one had seen him riding in a coach or aboard a ship. Their friend had vanished. More likely, his body was yet to be found. “Could Gareth and Collins have crossed paths?”
“The pub is near the docks and is attached to a reputable inn. There’s also a post service across the street.” The ice rattled in Kit’s glass. “It’s why I started there.”
Jasper lifted the seal from the envelope. The ram’s head with curved horns that was part of his family crest stared back at him. “The S’s in Gareth’s letter could simply mean he was in a hurry to make the post.”
“Claudette can produce numerous letters, written in battle, where he never made that error,” Kit argued. “He meant Spencer. I’m certain of it.”
I never should have told him anything about Sir Reginald Spencer and why he needed to be stopped. His involvement—his death—lies squarely with me.
“And even if he didn’t, he still discovered something thatsomeonekilled him to hide,” Kit said.
The front door opened, and the hall echoed with the chatter and giggling of four young women all rushing to speak at once.
Kit scooped the letter from the desk and slipped it into his coat pocket. “We’ll talk more later.”
“As you wish.” Jasper rose from the desk. Given the noise in the hallway, he could have shouted their plot and not been heard. That was one of the problems with sharing his mother’s home while Ramsbury House was under repair.
The benefit, however, was that the presence of his family helped ease the awkwardness of newlywed life as he and Annabel got better acquainted.
He stopped at the door. His new wife was flanked by his mother and surrounded by his sisters and hers in their colorful day dresses and large-brimmed bonnets, but her wide smile and sparkling eyes made her stand out. Her alto-pitched laugh harmonized with the girls’ shrill giggles.
If Jasper had ever seen her like this near the ferns in a ballroom, he wouldn’t have forgotten it. And, predictably, it faded when she saw him.
“Do it again, Annie. Do it again!”
The family name made her seem younger, but her cheeks flushed in a way that Jasper recognized from experience. The shortened name agitated her.
“Here now.” He waded into the fray to reach Annabel’s side, leaving Kit behind. “Lady Ramsbury, if you please, Miss Pearce.”
Rebecca, Annabel’s next oldest sister, bobbed a quick curtsy, but her eyes flashed. “Yes, your lordship.” Her frown made the end of her sentence pop like a pebble against a window.
“Behave, Rebecca.” Annabel’s words were quiet, but they caught and held her sister’s attention.
Unwilling to let the exchange ruin the gaiety or his quest to learn more, Jasper widened his smile as he looked down at his wife. “What must youdo again?”
The laughter had gone from her eyes. “The girls are simply easy to entertain.”
“No,” Johanna said, her giggles erupting again. “Jasper, you should have heard Annie—Lady Ramsbury—in the coach. She perfectly mimics Madame Theodore, right down to the tilt of her pointy chin.”
“I would swear her nose grew as we bounced along the cobbles,” Rachel added, with a wide smile that resembled Annabel’s.
“Don’t swear, Rachel.” Annabel looked past them. “Especially not in front of our visitor. It is a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Yarwood.”
Kit stepped forward, and Jasper held his breath in dreadful anticipation.
“Lady Ramsbury.” Kit’s bow was stiff and shallow, but it was enough to be polite. “May I congratulate you on your wedding?”
“Thank you.” Annabel’s curtsy was quick, and her cheeks flushed cherry red. “That is very kind. I regret that you were not in London and able to attend.” She turned to the younger ladies.“May I present my sisters, Miss Rachel Pearce and Miss Rebecca Pearce?”
“Miss Pearce, Rebecca.” Kit’s smile widened as he shifted his attention to the rest of the party. “Janie. Jo-Jo. It is good to see you again.”
Jasper’s sisters ran squealing to the man they’d known since they were in the nursery. They’d learned to knit so they could send him lopsided scarves and mismatched socks while he was fighting in Egypt—though Jasper had told them woolens and sand were a poor combination.
Annabel’s sisters stayed rooted to the floor. Rachel’s mouth fell open. A quick elbow from the new marchioness reminded her to close it.
