I took her hand, which was too cold, her fingers too thin. "There have been times in my life when you were strong for me. I wanted to be strong for you, this once."
"I have not been strong at all. You say he is truly innocent of this?"
"Your husband did not kill Henry Turner. I knew from the beginning that the crime was all wrong for him. Nor is Imogene Harper his lover."
Louisa lifted her head. "But she was. On the Peninsula, she was, however briefly."
"I know. I'm sorry. I am not certain I will forgive him that."
"I will." When I looked surprised, Louisa said, "Aloysius is my husband, Gabriel. We have weathered much together. We will weather this, too."
"You love the idiot."
"Yes. I always have." She touched my cheek. "And I love you too."
"A fact that warms my heart." I kissed her forehead then let her go. "I hope that our friendship may weather all this as well."
"It will. I will not be ungrateful and shun you simply because I am embarrassed."
"Good." I paused. The cheerful room had grown more cheerful still, and in a few moments, I would not be able to bear it. "What did you do with the paper, Louisa?" I asked.
She stilled. "Paper?"
"The one Brandon told you to fetch from the Gillises'."
Her cheeks darkened. "Must you know everything?"
"It is a dangerous document to have."
"I know that. But the greatest danger Aloysius fears is from you."
I held on to my temper. "Does he truly believe I would betray him? After all this? Please give it to me, Louisa. Unless you have already destroyed it."
She rose, agitated, and I rose with her. "I have not. How did you know I had it?"
"Because there is no one else in the world Brandon would have entrusted it to. I toyed with the idea that he'd given it to Mrs. Harper, but she did not have it, which was why she went to search Turner's rooms. Brandon probably meant to hide it and fetch it the next day, never dreaming he'd be bound over for trial. He knew that he did not commit the murder, and he expected everyone else to take him at his word. You read French," I finished. "You must know what the document is."
Louisa wouldn't look at me. "Yes."
"You went to see Brandon after I'd admonished you to, did you not?"
She finally met my gaze. "I did. And he told me an extraordinary tale. He bared his soul to me. He must have been quite desperate to do that. Aloysius hates to appear weak, especially to a woman-most especially to his wife."
"He craves your respect."
"Yes, well, he told me where the paper was, told me to hide it, and begged me, for God's sake, not to give it to you."
"I already know his secrets. Louisa, please, will you trust me and let me have it? No one in the world but you and I and he will know of it."
She looked skeptical. "What about Mrs. Harper?"
"Mrs. Harper should bless her luck that Brandon decided to help her at all. I will send word to her that it is all over and tell her to return to Scotland."
"Good," Louisa said. She was still pale, but her eyes began to sparkle with their usual fervor. "I will forgive Aloysius, because he can be so easily led into mischief. But Mrs. Harper is another matter. She had no bloody business pinching my husband."
I smiled. "I am pleased to see that you will not simply be walked on."
"Indeed no. I expect Aloysius to be quite kind to me for a very long time." Louisa placed her hand on my arm. "Thank you, Gabriel. Drink your coffee, and I will fetch the paper."
An hour later found me at Newgate prison with the incriminating letter tucked into my pocket. The turnkey was reluctant to let me in at this late hour, but he was easily bribed.
I found Brandon still dressed, sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. He looked up when I was ushered in and sprang to his feet. "What are you doing here?"
I waited until the turnkey shut the door, waited again until I heard his footsteps retreat.
"I came to tell you that you will soon be free," I said. "I found the man responsible for Henry Turner's death."
Brandon stared at me in shock. "But…"
"Had you convinced yourself I never would? Mr. Bennington was arrested this evening. I hoped you could be released at once, but magistrates do things in their own time."
Brandon gaped at me as I told the story for the second time tonight, and when I finished, he began to splutter.
"The blackguard! Using my own knife, sitting by quietly as you please while I waited in here for my trial. Damn the man."
"Would it help to know that he is terrified of what is to come?" I asked.
"What? No, of course not. I long to call the fellow out, but I suppose that would not be the thing."
He paced the cell, animation flowing into his body. Brandon dejected was a sad sight, but now his eyes flashed, and his back was straight and strong.
"If you had told me the truth from the beginning, sir, you might not have had to come here at all," I said.
Brandon swung to me. "Oh, yes I would have. When I admitted the knife was mine, Pomeroy blamed me at once, damn the man."
"Which he would not have if you'd stayed in the ballroom the entire night with your wife. Why the devil did you not at least say that Stokes saw you wandering the back rooms at the time of the murder?"
"Because it was none of his business. I didn't want Stokes standing up in court bellowing every place I'd been."
I thought I understood. "Because if it were mentioned, someone, Stokes himself perhaps, might recall you slipping back there after Lord Gillis sent for Pomeroy and his patrollers. And then Pomeroy, ever thorough, might find what you'd hidden there." His eyes widened at my guesses, and I lost my temper. "Damn it, sir, I know all about Naveau, and the document, and Mrs. Harper. What the hell were you thinking?"
"You know what the document is?" he asked, watching me.
"I read it. Why the devil didn't you come to me when Mrs. Harper first approached you? I could have retrieved the paper without all your machinations at the ball. I know people who could have made Turner hand it over-Grenville for one, or if we were more desperate, James Denis. I would have done this for you. Why did you not trust me?"
Brandon looked at me with infuriating stubbornness. "Because I know how much you hate me. Why would you not use the opportunity to bring about my downfall? I could see you doing so, with glee."
"Then you read me entirely wrong. I have been loyal to you since the day I swore allegiance to you, twenty years ago. That has not changed."
Brandon shot a guilty look at my walking stick. "I hurt you."
"I know. And I haven't forgiven you for that, believe me. But you were angry then-you thought I'd taken Louisa from you, the woman you love more than your own life. You feared that Louisa would leave you for me, even after you retracted your plan to divorce her. You would have deserved it if she had, but Louisa loves you. The pair of you are so romantic, you make me weep. I never bedded your wife, sir. Never. She never would have done such a thing."
"But you would have," he said sullenly.
"Of course. On an instant. Louisa has always been special to me. If she had wanted to give herself to me in that way, I would have taken what she offered and felt privileged to receive it. But she never offered, it never happened, and it never will."
Brandon glared at me with his old fire. "Such words do not make me disposed to trust you."
"You might be a complete idiot concerning your wife, but it is also true that I owe you my life. All of it." I gave him a firm look. "And so I will do my damndest to keep you safe."
I took the document from my pocket and held it up for him to see. I'd read it in Louisa's sitting room and nearly groaned in dismay. In Brandon's handwriting, in French, the letter told Colonel Naveau of Mrs. Harper's husband's death and explained that there would be no more information from that source. The letter also included a copy of a dispatch that Major Harper had set aside for Naveau.