Page 48 of His Wife, the Spy
Gaslights flickered ahead. They veered right to skirt the park and stay unseen. The cobbles smoothed out, allowing them to walk faster. Jasper straightened his posture but kept the blanket over his shoulders.
“Cold?” Kit smirked.
“The fog is clinging,” Jasper replied.
Admitting he was uncomfortable was better than confessing that the wool across his chin reminded him of how it scratched the back of his hand as he’d kissed his wife. She’d squeezed his fingers tightly, as though she were afraid of falling from a cliff—or running toward the edge and taking him with her.
Kit grabbed his elbow and pulled him behind a tree. “Thechillhas reached your brain.”
They were across from Spencer’s house, where a low light flickered in the window. Sir Reginald was working far into the night for a ceremonial chaplain who had only a handful of parishioners.
They didn’t have to wait long. Collins strolled down the street as though it was the middle of the day and he was headed to market. He rapped on Spencer’s door and was admitted without delay.
I have Some exploSive goSSip to Share…
Kit was right. Wales, Collins, the pub, the odd capitalization in Gareth’s letter—everything pointed to an alliance with Spencer. A plot Gareth should have never been aware of, much less involved in.
“We have him,” Jasper whispered as he watched the light in the window. A thrill shot through him, akin to aiming at his prey at the end of a hunt. If he couldn’t guarantee a completely honest Parliament, at least one rotter would be gone.
“We have him drinking with a business acquaintance after the gentleman arrived on the last ship from Wales,” Kit said. “We have a good start, but we need more answers.”
Minutes ticked by before Collins left the house, patting his vest pocket before he turned back toward the docks, his shoulders back and his chin high, tipping his hat to every passing carriage.
The house went dark.
Jasper met Kit’s steady stare. “Why the hell is Spencer sending money to Cardiff?”
The glint in Kit’s eyes was lethal. “And where is it coming from?”
*
“Freddie said hislordship came home at dawn, smelling of cheap women and cheaper rum.”
Annabel dropped against her pillows. It was one thing to hope her husband visited another woman rather than plotted to bring down the government, but it was quite another to hear the maids giggling over it. And yet another still to realize he’d chosen the docks for his dalliance.
“Perhaps you should wonder how young Frederick knows the scent of either,” Barnes snapped in time with her heels on the floorboards. “And if you insist on gossiping like girls in school, move away from her ladyship’s door.”
The latch rattled, and Annabel slipped her fingers beneath her eyes to make sure there were no misguided tears. She’d told Jasper to carry on as he had been. There was no reason to weep when he did it.
The girls scurried away before Barnes opened the bedroom door and entered, carrying a breakfast tray. “You’re awake, then.”
“It’s difficult to lie about with music lessons going on downstairs.” As if to prove her point, the battle between Jane and the piano began anew. Annabel forced a smile and swung her legs over the bed. “I’m perfectly capable of sitting at a table.”
“I thought you might want stay upstairs after last night.” Barnes blinked, and color stained her cheeks. “Your feet must ache—”
“I know you mean well, Barnes, but please don’t coddle me. His lordship…” Annabel paused with one arm in her favorite dressing gown, made of jade-green silk. She could either ease her maid’s mind or keep her agreement with her husband. “His lordship and I are both satisfied with our marriage.”
She sat at the table, and Barnes squeezed her hand before she poured coffee. “Are you certain you wouldn’t prefer tea, my lady?”
I’m certain I wish you would call me Annabel.“I am.” She poured a liberal amount of cream over the coffee and then dropped a cube of sugar into the cup. The square disappeared with a plop that sent the lighter color swirling toward the rim. Just the scent of it made her relax. “It was wonderful to sleep later than normal, though. Last night was exhausting.”
She’d woken with every creak in the floor, wondering if Jasper had returned. At dawn, she’d vowed to never spend another night like that again. She was not going to mope about the house and add kindling to the gossipy fire. She had a job to do.
More than one.
“I need to get started with my day. Mrs. Ferrand expects me for her charity luncheon.” Her social correspondence lay next to a plate of toast, eggs, and bacon. Annabel set the invitations aside in favor of the newspaper. “His lordship has left for Parliament, then?”
“He has, my lady.”
