Page 94 of His Wife, the Spy
“Collins is making the rounds to every mine. He goes to the nearest pub, finds the biggest groups, and feeds them money and alcohol while bragging about his new job as a foreman at a new concern. Better pay, better conditions, more opportunities.” Kit shifted in his chair. “The authorities there haven’t given him much thought. Bragging, even lying, isn’t a crime.”
“But murder is,” Jasper said.
“Which is where Claudette has helped. We know for certain where Gareth was, and at what time. We know Collins and some of his cronies crossed his path. We just don’t have a motive.”
Without that, they’d fail to give solace to Claudette and to Gareth’s family.
And if Spencer wasn’t tied to the scheme, they’d likely fail the queen.
The key in the lock turned, and Annabel stepped from her room to his. “We need to talk, right away.”
“Your husband and I are discussing matters not for public knowledge, Lady Ramsbury,” Kit barked. “Kindly leave—”
Annabel squared off to face him. “Do you mean trying to find an embezzler in the palace? Or finding a murderer in Cardiff?”
“Christ, Jasper. Do you ever stop and think?” Kit pushed himself upright. “Isn’t it convenient that you’ve never been set upon by highwaymen until you were traveling with her? And now your attacker was waiting outside a house that has been vacant for months?” He thrust a finger toward Annabel. “Perhaps she told him—”
“Oh yes, perhaps I told them so I could try to kill one of them in the dark. Or so I could have the joy of a dress covered in my husband’s blood while we raced home,” Annabel parried.
“It would be a wise move to thwart an assassination as part of your role—”
“Enough.” Jasper resisted the impulse to tighten the belt on his dressing gown. It was difficult to issue commands while dressed in silk, but perhaps if he acted like he was wearing trousers, he could bluff his way through it. “She is my wife, Kit. I trust her.”
There was a difference between that and disappointment that she suspected him of things far worse than being a traitor.
“Why?” Kit demanded.
Jasper held up his hand and ticked off his reasoning with each raised finger. “I told her of the embezzlement but not the murder. The visit to Ramsbury House was a surprise. I was on foot, so it would have been easier to follow me.” He drew a deep breath and raised his pinkie. “I wasn’t the target.”
It haunted him every time he was still. A thin man all in black, a cap pulled low over his eyes, a scarf pulled to his nose as he strode toward Annabel. The knife glinting in the sunlight.
“I apologize, dearest. I didn’t mean for you to find out that way.” He extended his hand and was relieved when she took it.
Despite her paler-than-normal complexion, she wore a predictable frown. “You’re wrong, Jasper. He called for you, not for me.”
“I am not wrong.” The stranger calledLady Ramsburyin his nightmares. “But we can argue over it later.” He indicated the chair nearest him, even though her sitting meant releasing his hand. “What did you need to tell me?”
“I can tie Reginald Spencer to Mr. Collins,” she said. A ghost of a smile flitted across her lips, but her eyes held questions that broke his heart anew. She didn’t doubt her conclusion. She feared what he would do with it.
“How?” Kit snapped. “How do you know Mr. Collins?”
“I don’t know him, exactly.” Her fingers writhed in her gardening apron, twisting the fabric first one way and then the other. “It’s more that I knowofhim.”
Kit snorted, and Jasper shot him a quelling look before refocusing on Annabel’s story. “Tell me.”
“The last time I was in Spencer’s home, he was there.”
“Before your wedding?” Kit’s sharp question would have been welcome any other time, with any other witness.
Annabel ignored him. Her deep brown eyes focused on Jasper as her color heightened. “Two days after the Haverstocks’ ball.”
“Why that day?” Kit asked. “What did you—”
Annabel’s eyes flashed before she turned to face her inquisitor. “Lord Warwick, you will have your answers if you allow me to finish my explanation without interruption.”
Given their midnight activities after the ball, Jasper could understand Kit’s concern over the timing of her visit. That didn’t keep him from laughing. “Just so. Please continue, my marchioness.”
It wouldn’t hurt to remind Kit that he wasn’t the ranking member of their party. It also wouldn’t hurt—at all—to hold herhand. If nothing else, it would be a show of unity. It would also save her apron.
