“Someone must be giving you orders.”
“Someone did, yes. I received my instructions from a gentleman… Sir Giles Frayne…”
Lucian felt his heart lurch at the name, but he was spared from answering when Philip spoke for the first time. “Sir Giles has been dead for months.”
Involuntarily Lucian met his subordinate’s gaze. Philip was one of the few people who knew how Sir Giles had met his ignominious end.
Lucian glanced down at his hands that were suddenly unsteady. The memory of that bleak moment would always be etched in his mind. Killing his friend had unleashed something dark and primal within him, an ugliness he longed to forget. Yet he was prepared to kill again if it meant stopping the treacherous Caliban and his cohorts in treason.
“A convenient claim,” Lucian said finally, “now that Sir Giles is no longer alive to defend his name. How can you honestly expect me to believe you?”
“I have proof, my lord… if you wish to see it?”
“Yes.”
Keeping a wary eye on Lucian, the clerk struggled to his feet and went to one corner of the room. Lucian spared a glance around the spartan chamber, which held a cot, a desk, a chair and reading lamp, and a cabinet with a brazier for cooking. If Jenkins was being paid for treason, there was little luxury here to show for it.
Bypassing the desk, the clerk knelt and dug up a loose floorboard. Retrieving a leather pouch, he turned it over to Lucian. “They’re all here-all the instructions Sir Giles gave me for the past year.”
Lucian thumbed through the scraps of paper. “I see nothing to connect these to Sir Giles. You could have forged these just as you forged my letter.”
“But I didn’t, my lord, I swear it! I still have nearly all the money he gave me from the first time. A hundred pounds. Once I realized… I couldn’t spend it. I told Sir Giles I would no longer help. I pleaded- but he insisted. He said Caliban would kill my mother if I failed to do exactly as he asked.”
His expression held such sincere misery, Lucian was inclined to believe him. Moreover, he knew very well what treachery Giles had been capable of.
“If your contact is dead, how do you communicate now?”
“My instructions are left anonymously… in a flowerpot outside my door. I never see who leaves them.”
Lucian stared at him for a long moment, using his most intimidating scowl. The clerk visibly quailed but did not retract his story.
“Very well,” Lucian said at last. “Tell me about this letter of authorization you wrote. You forged my hand?”
“Yes, my lord. I obtained some of your correspondence and practiced for weeks.”
“How did you manage to get my seal?”
“I did not, exactly. I was supplied with several wax wafers with your seal already imprinted on them. It wasn’t difficult to transfer one to the letter. It requires only a hot brick and a razor-thin knife.”
“Someone must have acquired your seal ring,” Philip observed.
He kept a seal at his offices, Lucian reflected, and another in his study at home- He felt every muscle grow rigid as his mind flashed back to a morning some weeks ago when he’d found Brynn in his study with her brother. And the following day she had returned alone, claiming to be searching for a lost earring.
God’s mercy… Was that yet another lie? He wouldn’t put it past Sir Grayson to have stolen his seal, but Brynn? Was she involved in treason?
Lucian drew a sharp breath. His first instinct was to deny the possibility; his second, a desperate desire to shield her from discovery. She was his wife, the woman who carried his child. The one who owned his heart. It would devastate him to have to choose between her and his duty.
Lucian clenched his jaw, knowing he no longer had any objectivity where Brynn was concerned, yet he didn’t want Philip to know he suspected his wife of treason. At least not until he had proof. He would have to discover the truth from Brynn. Meanwhile her brother might very well be preparing to transport the gold to France…
Shaking himself from his stupor, Lucian eyed the trembling clerk. “You understand, I trust, the seriousness of your crime against the Crown? That the best I can do for you is to see that you are imprisoned or transported rather than hanged?”
“Yes, my lord,” Jenkins whispered. “I understand. I… I would be grateful if you would spare my life.”
“Mr. Barton here will see to your arrest. I suggest you gather whatever belongings will help ease your incarceration until your trial.”
“Th-thank you, my lord.”
When the clerk turned away, Lucian drew Philip aside. “I have a notion who might have had access to my seal,” he said in a low voice. “Sir Grayson Caldwell.”
Philip stared. “But that is…”
“My wife’s brother, I know. If Sir Grayson is the culprit, it’s possible this latest shipment of gold was taken to Cornwall, to be transported to France from there. Following him may be our only hope in finding it.”
“Yes, I concur,” Philip said slowly.
“I want you to take a half dozen of your best men and ride to Cornwall. Observe Sir Grayson from a distance, but do nothing to alert him that he is suspect. I don’t want you to show yourself at all, do I make myself clear?”
“I understand, my lord. You will be coming to Cornwall, as well?”
“Yes, I’ll follow you shortly. But I have a matter to resolve first,” Lucian said grimly. “One that can’t be delayed.”
It required all Lucian’s acting skills to rein in his emotions and refrain from confronting Brynn the moment he returned home. He wanted to shake the truth out of her, to plead with her to deny her complicity. Yet given her propensity for lies, he knew he was wiser to observe her reaction, to see if she would reveal her guilt. He could only pray she would allay his dark suspicions.
When he arrived, he went straight to his rooms and began to pack, not calling his valet because he didn’t want an audience.
He sensed Brynn’s presence even before she spoke; she had entered his bedchamber through their connecting door.
“Is something wrong, Lucian? You are so late, I had begun to worry.”
“Yes, there is something very much wrong,” he answered tersely, scarcely giving her a glance. “Another shipment of gold has been stolen.”
She frowned. “Another one?”
Lucian stopped his packing and gave her a level look. “The circumstances are different from the earlier times-actually worse. My seal ring was brazenly used to forge a letter that authorized handing over the gold to the thieves.”
“Your seal ring?” Her voice dropped to a mere whisper.
He forced his expression to remain impassive. “Yes, mine. It implicates me in treason.”
Her hand went to her throat. “Surely not… No one would believe you had anything to do with stealing government gold.”
“Perhaps not, but it will behoove me to catch the thieves as soon as possible.”
It was a clear opening for her to confess. Lucian felt his heart contract as he waited for Brynn to speak.
She took a step toward him, her beautiful features wrought with dismay. But then she stopped and visibly collected herself.
“Are you leaving tonight?”
A sinking, hollow feeling clenched Lucian’s insides. “We have no real leads. I will make for Dover tonight. That seems to be the likeliest point for the gold to be smuggled to France. It will take some time to investigate. Forgive me, but I may be gone for several days.”
“I…understand.”
“Will you be all right here alone?”
“Yes,” she murmured. “There is still a great deal to do to prepare for Raven’s wedding.”
Closing his valise, Lucian gave Brynn a brief kiss on her forehead, not trusting himself to do more, but she seemed too distracted to notice his lack of intimacy or to return the salute.
He had stepped back and picked up his valise when she apparently recovered.