The goldsmith lunged at him. Stepping back out of reach, Christopher threw his hat into his assailant's face. It gave him time to draw his own sword. The two men circled each other in the middle of the room. Christopher gave a grim smile.
'Let's see what Signor Maldini taught you, shall we?'
Crenlowe lunged again but his blade was parried. When he slashed wildly at Christopher's head, the latter ducked out of harm's way. Roused to a pitch of desperation, the goldsmith attacked again and again but every stroke was parried or rendered ineffective by neat footwork. Their blades clashed once more then locked together. Christopher's face was inches from that of the goldsmith. Crenlowe strained his sinews to force him back but he was up against someone who was younger, stronger and impelled by an urge to vindicate his brother. With a concerted effort, Christopher shoved him away so violently that his opponent tripped and fell to the floor. Before he could even move, Crenlowe felt a searing pain in his wrist as Christopher's rapier drew blood and made him drop his sword with a clatter.
Standing over his man, Christopher held the point of his weapon at his throat.
'Now, Mr Crenlowe,' he said. 'Tell me what really happened that night.'
Epilogue
Lady Whitcombe was overjoyed to receive the invitation to Fetter Lane. The thought of spending time with Christopher Redmayne was always a pleasant one but it held an even richer promise now that she had made her declaration to him. Feeling that she was in a position to exert influence over him, she had no hesitation in using it. Since his brother had now been released from prison, Lady Whitcombe had a double reason to rejoice with him. She could mark her closer relationship with the architect and celebrate the vindication of his family's name. Nothing could now prevent Christopher from resuming his work for her. Even her son, Egerton, albeit reluctantly, had accepted that. It was her daughter, however, who was now proving troublesome. They were in the house of the friends with whom they were staying. Lady Whitcombe was about to leave.
'Let me come with you, Mother,' said Letitia, grabbing her arm.
'Not this time,' replied the other, waving her away. 'Mr Redmayne and I have private business to discuss.'
'But I wish to congratulate him on solving that crime.'
'I'll pass on congratulations for you, Letitia.'
'Mother!'
'There's no point in arguing,' said the older woman. 'I'm going alone.'
'I want to see Mr Redmayne,' protested the girl, stamping a foot in rebellion. 'I like him and he likes me. It's so unfair to keep me away from him like that.'
'You'll be seeing a great deal of him in due course, I promise you.'
Before her daughter could throw a tantrum, Lady Whitcombe swept out of the house and stepped into her carriage. During the drive to Fetter Lane, she rehearsed what she was going to say to the young man whose talent as an architect, and whose charm as a person, had so captivated her. When she arrived at the house, he opened the door to her himself and gave her a cordial welcome before taking her into the parlour. Lady Whitcombe had the distinct impression that they were the only people there and that added to her sense of excitement. She took a seat and beamed at him.
'Let me say how delighted we all were to hear your good news,' she began. 'Your brother must be immensely proud of you for what you did on his behalf.'
'I had a great deal of help, Lady Whitcombe,' said Christopher modestly. 'My good friend, Jonathan Bale, deserves much of the credit.'
'But you are the chief architect of this triumph.' She chortled. 'Forgive me, Mr Redmayne. I did not mean to offer you such a feeble play on words. The point is that you were brave and resolute.' She became almost coquettish. 'In your letter, you said that you had something of importance to tell me.'
'Yes, Lady Whitcombe.'
'Well?'
'It concerns your commission,' he said, sitting beside her. 'If I'm to continue in your employ, there's something that must be understood at the start.'
'You must continue,' she insisted. 'I'll hold you to the contract.'
'Yet you had doubts about me earlier on.'
'Only for a brief moment. Be advised, Mr Redmayne,' she said with quiet authority, 'that I'd never release you from the contract. It's legally binding.'
'In that case, we must talk about your late husband.'
'Sir Peregrine?' she asked, quite baffled. 'Why?'
'Something rather distressing has come to light,' he said.
Christopher tried to break the news to her as gently as possible. He explained about Jeronimo Maldini's work as a spy and how certain documents had been found in a secret compartment of his desk. Lady Whitcombe angrily refuted the suggestion that her husband would have had anything to do with the man until she was shown letters in a hand that she identified immediately. There could be no doubting the fact that Sir Peregrine Whitcombe had been willing to betray his country in return for payment. She remembered that her son had talked of introducing his father to Maldini. That was how the connection between them had first been made. It threw her into a panic. If the truth about her husband were to become common knowledge, she would lose face completely and the memory of Sir Peregrine Whitcombe would be reviled. It would mean a dramatic loss of all the things she most prized. Realising the consequences of disclosure, she reached out to grasp Christopher's hand.
'Who else knows about this?' she asked.
'Only my friend, Mr Bale.'
'Will he divulge it?'
'No, Lady Whitcombe,' said Christopher. 'And neither will I, if we can come to an agreement. When the reputation of my family was in danger, you were kind enough to offer me your support. That meant a lot to me at a time when most people were looking askance at the name of Redmayne. I'd like to give you my support in return and prevent your family name from being sullied unnecessarily. Nothing will be served by digging up the mistakes of the past,' he decided. 'This unfortunate episode is now over. Signor Maldini is dead and so is Sir Peregrine. I believe that we should let their dark secrets die with them.'
'That's so generous of you, Mr Redmayne,' she said, squeezing his hand.
'My generosity comes at a price.'
'Name it and you shall have it.'
'I'll remain as your architect,' he said, withdrawing his hand, 'on condition that there's no suggestion of any personal relationship between us.' Her jaw dropped, her face went blank and she looked much older all of a sudden. 'I'm here simply to make sure that your house is built the way that it should be. It's the only basis on which I'll agree to proceed. Do I have your word on that, Lady Whitcombe?'
The disappointment showed in her eyes but it was tempered with gratitude for what he had done. Christopher had the power to hurt her in the most comprehensive way yet he stayed his hand. Instead of being able to reap the benefits of being the widow of Sir Peregrine Whitcombe, she might be ostracised as the wife of a man who sold state secrets to a foreign country. Coping with the horror of what she had learned about her husband was devastating for someone who had trusted him implicitly. She did not want humiliation as well. Lady Whitcombe saw her folly. She had been driven by desire to seek a closer acquaintance with her architect and she had tried to manipulate the awkward situation in which he found himself to her advantage. She had now been hoist with her own petard and it left her in despair.