Page 73 of His Wife, the Spy
Edgar could have kept his heir in Britain altogether. “Nothing else?”
“I didn’t want to be the Earl of fucking Warwick, and there was still a possibility for him to father a legitimate heir.”
Stranger things had happened.
“That changed after Egypt.” Kit refilled his glass and carried the decanter to Jasper, who shook his head. He needed his wits about him. “I went to see him after I returned—once I saw Da.” He returned the whiskey to the cabinet and kept walking. He reached the door before he reversed direction. “I wanted him to know he’d invested wisely, I suppose.”
Jasper understood that compulsion. He’d often wondered whether his father would be proud of what he was accomplishing. Since Grandfather’s death, the curiosity had doubled.
“It was clear he was ill.” Kit’s jaw kicked sideways. “Very ill. We went on a carriage ride around the village and the estate, and then we went back to the hall. Edgar warned me he’d written a new will, claiming me. He wanted to keep Warwick safe.”
“Safe?” Jasper thumped his glass to his desk. “From me?”
“That was a poor choice—”
“Get out.” Jasper heard his knuckles crack before he felt them. His heartbeat deafened him to anything other than his breathing. “Leave.”
Kit placed his glass on the nearest table and walked to the door.
“Wait.” Jasper didn’t turn, but he knew Kit would stop. He always did. “We were set upon by highwaymen on the way here. We may be getting too close, either in London or in Cardiff. Be careful.”
“Thank you for the warning.”
The door closed with asnick. Jasper refilled his drink, his back to the empty room. The latch clicked again.
“Jasper?”
“Mother.” He had so many questions, but he didn’t dare face her until he had better control of his emotions.
Instead, she put herself in his line of vision. “There is a way to fight this. Mr. Burks says we can argue that Edgar’s illness rendered him incompetent. That a devious man took advantage of a previous kindness, and—”
“You knew, didn’t you?” She had to have known. She and the family lawyer hadn’t arrived at this plan of action surrounded by strangers at a house party. It explained also her cold civility every time Kit visited. “All this time, you knew and you said nothing.”
“We thought it best.”
Best.To keep the secret that his best friend, the man he thought of as a brother, was actually related to him.
“Burks is ready with the paperwork—”
“I will not lie about Kit’s paternity. Edgar did the right thing, finally, and we will honor it.”
He lifted the decanter and carried it with him to a chair that faced the gardens. “Leave me.” The glass was half full when he remembered his manners. “Please.”
She did.
Jasper drank until the garden resembled the impressionist painting hanging over the mantel in the dining room.
His life was full of secrets and lies, the ones he’d perpetuated as a façade to hunt other liars and thieves and the ones others told him. His mother, his best friend, his family—even his wife.
Darkness fell as he finished the whiskey and moved on to the gin.
Was Annabel a spy, using everything at her disposal to get close to him? Or was her interest, her affection, authentic? Hadhe let her into his life only so she could tell Spencer everything and ruin his plans? Or worse, given the attack on the road? He couldn’t be sure of anything any longer.
Stapleton was a shadow against the firelight as he set a tray on the desk. “Lady Ramsbury insists you eat, your lordship.”
Jasper nodded but didn’t leave his chair. There was every possibility she’d poisoned it. Or, since Kit had hired Stapleton, they were working in concert. Perhaps the assassination attempts weren’t related to his progress in the embezzlement case or Gareth’s death, but instead led to his newly discovered cousin’s darker motives.
His stomach rumbled and gurgled as the scent from roast beef and herbed potatoes curled through his nose and downward. Using the desk for balance, he moved to his chair and sat. After choking down the first few bites, eating became easier. The room was brighter and warmer than he’d thought, though he’d never heard anyone stoke the fire or bring in candles.
