Page 116 of The Truth Serum
“We’d have to break his ribs first,” Nate growled.
“It wasn’t Fletcher. It was the baron’s men,” Rebecca said, her tone weary. “My brother only watched.”
Nate grumbled something incoherent, then shook his head. “Just keep him quiet.”
“I’m sorry they didn’t kill you,” Fletcher growled.
She sighed. Her brother really was the sorest loser. What was it in him that kept him from accepting his mistakes? Whatever it was, she couldn’t let him hang.
She straightened and addressed Lord Benedict, as he seemed to be the man in charge. “Fletcher wasn’t the one in charge of this disaster. Even I could see that he was miserably bad at it.”She looked at her brother. “You’ve never been in charge of such an exchange before, have you?”
His jaw firmed, refusing to answer. He would rather hang than admit he was bad at something.
“Doesn’t matter,” Lord Benedict said. “Once is all it takes.”
“But wouldn’t you rather have the baron? And not just him, but all of the people involved in his schemes?”
The major’s eyes narrowed. “Do they all involve trading with the French?”
“Not all. But Corporal Skewes is not his only stooge working in the Tower. He has two more.”
Fletcher’s eyes widened at that, and his weren’t the only ones. Corporal Skewes was tying a bandage around a shallow wound in his arm, but he managed to throw her a hateful glare. “An’ how would you know that?”
Because the baron had told her. Then she’d told him how to expand his business with the use of women. It was only luck of the moment—with Nate as inspiration—that had pushed her to getting that information.
“I’ll tell you everything.” She looked straight at Lord Benedict. “But only if you let my brother go.”
Lord Benedict didn’t say anything. He left it to the major to question her.
“How do you know?” he pressed. “And how will we know it’s true?”
She shrugged. “Some men are idiots around women. Others—” Her glance flicked to her brother. “Are just idiotic. Henry’s due in town tomorrow. He’ll see that Fletcher doesn’t sin again.”
“Not good enough,” the major snapped. “He would have gleefully sold guns to the French. He’s a traitor.”
Becca winced, but she’d been prepared for this. “What if you transport him,” she said. “He can’t help the French while in the colonies.”
“You can’t! I’m the son of an earl!” Fletcher cried, but no one paid the least attention to him.
Then Nate spoke, his soft words were almost kind. “He was terrible at it. Without the baron, I doubt he could cause more trouble.”
“It was treason!” the major growled.
“He failed at it.”
Benedict stepped forward. “He’ll cause more problems. Wherever he is, he’ll try something again.”
Nate nodded. “But it will hurt her if you kill him. I can’t… I can’t agree to that.”
Rebecca felt a flush of heat roll over her skin. If anyone should be out for Fletcher’s blood, it should be Nate. But he was pleading for Fletcher’s life—for her sake.
“Thank you,” she whispered to him.
His gaze turned to her but steadily hardened as he looked at her head wound. “You need a doctor,” he said.
“No,” she said, as she gingerly tried to wipe the blood off her temple. “A surgeon will do. But someone should come with me. I need to tell you everything while it’s still fresh in my memory.”
“I’m not leaving your side,” Nate said.
