A Whisper of Treason

by Connolly, Lynne

  She huffed a laugh. “I’m an old maid.”

  “How old?” The rubbing didn’t stop.

  “Twenty-six by the end of this month.” To admit to it shamed her.

  “Hardly an old maid. I can give you four years.”

  “I would rather you kept them,” she said tartly.

  Below on the Steps, a man was conversing with one of the scantily dressed women. At present, she was no better off than them, with no protections. “What would you do if I changed my mind? If I said no?”

  The rubbing stopped. Pressure on her left shoulder informed her that he wanted her to turn around.

  He waited until she faced him before he spoke again. “Are you going to change your mind and say no?”

  She dropped her gaze, then looked up at him again. “No.”

  After all, he was what she wanted. Why she felt so drawn to him beat her understanding, but she knew he was a fair man, an honest man. What more than that could she expect? That was certainly better than a great many women had. But she was not deeply in love with him, as her sisters were with their husbands. Or was she?

  Delphi had no idea, because she didn’t know what romantic love was, and how she was supposed to feel. What did love feel like? Like this, as if she stood on the edge of a precipice, actually looking forward to the fall?

  “There you go, analyzing everything again,” he murmured, smiling. “Let it happen, Delphi. Let what will be, be. Don’t stress yourself by thinking too much. The deed is done. But if you please, we’ll remain no closer than this to until we have sealed the knot.”

  Delphi frowned. “What do you—oh! Bed and all that.” She tried to sound careless.

  He laughed. “Yes, exactly. Bed and all that. Not yet, my dear one.”

  “Why not? If we…” She halted, not knowing how to continue.

  He bit his lip, gazed at her, and shook his head slightly. Then he moved away, heading for the door. “Likely it won’t matter.”

  Shock hit her hard. “You mean if you die before we are married. Then any child of ours would be a bastard.” No point mincing words. Other people wouldn’t. But her shock came from another direction. “You won’t die.”

  “Someone tried to kill us yesterday.”

  She pressed her hand to her heart as if to quell its frantic beating. “When you were attacked? But surely they only meant to deliver a warning? That was what Trensom said.”

  “He lied to spare his wife’s feelings. You should know the truth. I know you’re strong enough, Delphi.”

  “You’re saying my name a lot.”

  “I like saying it.”

  As if he had only passed the time of day with her, he opened the door and picked something up, bringing it inside. It was that horrific statue. It looked even worse now, the white of the stone glaringly bleached, the chisel marks mocking them with their fresh, sharp edges.

  “Oh.” She bit her tongue because she didn’t want to upset him so soon. That statue was not staying in the house if she was here.

  He shot her a smiling glance. “Oh,” he echoed. “It’s tempting to keep it and tease you with it, but I have a feeling our marriage would not be as smooth as I’d like if I did that.”

  Still smiling, he walked over to the fireplace and carefully selected an item from the fire-irons. Then he went back to where he’d placed the statue, and swung the poker up like a sword. He brought it down to smash it over the back of the image.

  It shattered into jagged, flying pieces. The commotion brought Heath in at a run.

  Adam lifted a brow. “I made sure my wife-to-be was standing well away from the monstrosity.”

  After a startled glance at her, Heath turned his attention back to the mess on the floor. “Some of those pieces are razor-sharp. If you’ll move to another room, I’ll get this cleared up.” He grimaced, added, “sir,” as an afterthought.

  “I’m glad I did it,” Adam said, and tossed the poker away. It landed on a sofa and left a smudge on the cushions. “That thing damaged my reputation. I’ll ask for a better one next time.”

  He shook back a stray lock of hair. The violence he’d dealt that statue was far more than the ugly thing deserved, but Delphi wouldn’t cavil against its destruction. That blow wasn’t meant for the statue; it held too much fury for that.

  Heath gave a long-suffering sigh and let his gaze linger on the smudge. “I doubt they’ll let you have one, if this is what you plan to do with it.” He gave his attention to Delphi again. “Welcome, my lady. Please take care when you walk to the door. You don’t want to stand on one of those pieces.”

  Still mildly shocked from the impact, Delphi did as the majordomo said and carefully picked her way around the mess. She still caught one piece on her shoe, but the sole was thick enough for her to shake it off before she reached the door.

  Adam bent to pick something up from the ruins and joined her, getting to the door before Delphi and opening it for her. “Let me show you your bedroom.”

  Following him upstairs, Delphi found herself in a pretty, but small room. “There’s a balcony, but I’d ask you not to use it for the time being,” Adam told her.

  “This house is tall and thin,” he said. “Easier to guard. The keeps at home in Scotland are like this. People don’t usually live in them, but they were built for war, not comfort. I ensured my fortress wouldn’t be uncomfortable.”

  Yes, she’d noticed that the rooms were smaller than the norm, though places like the downstairs drawing room were big enough. As big as the drawing room in their old house in London. Not the current one, though. That had a massive drawing room as part of the enfilade of state rooms.

  Every furnishing and drape was of the best quality. The filmy drapery at the head of the bed and the matching canopy were apple-green silk. A soft oriental carpet lay on the floor to cushion bare feet. The dressing table did not stand on a platform, but it was spindly and French, standing impossibly on four tapered feet.

  “It’s lovely,” she said.

  “Yes it is.”

  “Do you own this house?”

  He shook his head. “I was obliged to take a long lease on the building, to compensate the landlord from cramming visitors into the separate apartments. The ground floor is suitably Spartan, in case I have to receive people in my impoverished state.” He paused. “However, that ploy has unraveled. I didn’t think it would hold for long.”

  “What did you pick up?” she asked him. “Before we left the room downstairs.”

  “Ah, yes.” He went and sat on the bed as if they had spent plenty of time in a room with a bed in it. Unlike Delphi, he seemed completely at his ease.

  Delphi found a chair to occupy. Husbands and wives behaved like this, for the most part, as family. Otherwise, he’d have stood until she sat, and helped her into the chair as if she couldn’t manage it on her own. She preferred this way.

  He unfolded the crumpled ball of paper and smoothed it on his thigh. “I went to establish contact, but the shopkeeper let me know there was something waiting for me. He will ensure that Frederick gets a part of the outrageous sum I gave him.”

  She let out a long sigh, regretting drawing attention to Adam and his purchase. “Ah, yes, the piazza. Perhaps I shouldn’t have made a scene. I’m so stupid.”

  “No, you’re not,” he snapped. “You’re just not used to the ways of spies. Neither am I, come to that, and I don’t intend for this business to go on any longer than it has to. You know the government had the effrontery to suggest that I remain here as an unofficial poste restante?” Indignation flashed in his eyes when he lifted his gaze to hers. “It was part of the letter Trensom received yesterday. I am not at their beck and call. Neither am I prepared to lie for my country on a regular basis.”

  His voice had hardened. Delphi admired his words, but found a flaw in them. Being Delphi, she did not hesitate to voice it. “But someone has to.”

  “Yes, they do. And that someone will have this house when we’ve done with it. It’s the
least I can do.”

  She gazed around at the furnishings and wondered exactly how much Adam was worth these days, to think of leaving these behind. But she didn’t voice her thoughts this time. Perhaps not wise to admit she was counting up the cost, as a good City merchant would. To do him justice, though, Adam did not denigrate the City while taking its money. Plenty of his kind did.

  “My plans have gone wrong, too,” she admitted.

  Abandoning the note he was frowning over, Adam looked up, giving her his full attention. “I know, but if you want to travel when this is done, we will do so.”

  They might have to if the deadly scheme got much further.

  “No, not that.” She waved her future away. She knew it would be different now. Despite his seeming carelessness, she knew the real Adam. To demand that he took time away from his duties to attend to her would be the ultimate sacrifice for him. “I’ve made my decision. Perhaps we can do a little traveling in the future, but I won’t be a peripatetic eccentric.”

  He smiled. “You could pretend to hate me, to leave me once this is done. I would leave you alone.”

  “You wouldn’t,” she retorted, smiling despite herself, returning his warmth. “But I won’t do it. It would look strange in newlyweds. Aren’t we supposed to be billing and cooing?”

  Still holding the note, he stood and came to her. She had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. With his free hand, he cupped the back of her neck. “And we will,” he promised. “But if I kiss you now, we won’t stop. We spend altogether too much time in bedrooms without doing anything about it and, the next time, we will not stop at kissing.”

  His eyes told her everything his mouth did not. He wanted her, burned for her as she did for him. “We’re to marry in two days.”

  “Perhaps even tomorrow, if Trensom works a miracle. I will pray tonight for that to happen.”

  “Does a day make a difference to what we do?”

  He closed his eyes. “Delphi, don’t tempt me. Don’t.”

  “We could stay in this house. You said it was a fortress.”

  Opening his eyes, he met her with an expression so bleak, so sorrowful that it took her breath away. “It is, and if I could get Frederick within these walls, we would not be going anywhere. But I can’t desert him. Don’t ask it of me.”

  She would never dream of deserting her sisters and brother in similar circumstances, so why would she expect it of him? “I won’t.” Independence was one thing; endangering others was something else entirely.

  “Thank you.” Relief shimmered in the blue depths. “I take care of my own and, now, that includes you.”

  “But I want to help. I don’t want to be a burden, another responsibility.”

  “You do. Believe me, you do.” With a slight sound, barely a groan, he bent his head and took what she was offering. But the kiss did not last as long as she wanted.

  He stepped back, and showed her the note. “It’s in code. I don’t understand it, but it is from my brother. I know that writing. It’s in some kind of Latin. Not a Latin I’m familiar with. I can’t make sense of it.” He handed her the paper. Still shaken from their kiss, Delphi took it, and tore her gaze from him to the paper.

  The writing was scrawled, difficult to interpret, and when she did, she saw what he meant about the Latin. Words that ended in “us” and “a”, for instance, and the use of simple verbs like “est” and “amo”. But they made no sense. What she could make out was not parsed properly. And even if the words were merely translated where they were placed in the sentence, they did not make sense.

  “A cipher,” she said.

  “Your Latin is far better than mine. Can you help? Frederick spoke of some kind of code we used as children, but I don’t recollect anything of that. Perhaps he was making it up.”

  The puzzle took hold of her intellect. It fascinated her. While she’d heard of ancient codes, she’d never seen one, ancient or modern. “I know nothing of codes but, of course, I’ll help.”

  Conundrums had always fascinated her. And working on this would help keep her mind off his kisses, and what would happen next. She wanted to run headlong towards her fate, now that she’d made her decision. But he wouldn’t let her. Not until she had that damned ring on her finger.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Although he’d happily anticipated sharing a breakfast with Delphi, before he left his room the next morning, Heath brought Adam a note from Trensom.

  The duke requested his presence at Trajan’s Column at dawn. He said he wanted a brief conversation about the current situation. Which probably meant he’d made the arrangements for their marriage and wanted to give Adam time to prepare. Did that mean today?

  Adam gave Heath a brief message for Delphi, that he would return in time for a late breakfast. Before he left the house, he strapped a useful sword at his side, and he took a footman with him.

  September was fast mellowing into autumn, leaving the steamy heat of the summer behind. If they did not leave Rome soon, they’d be stuck here for the winter. At half-past six, dawn had not yet arrived, but it would be here by the time he reached the column.

  While he walked, Adam considered his plans, and pondered on the ways of kings, and why they felt the need to drag other people into them.

  Trajan’s Column appeared as it always did—grubby in its magnificence, timeless, taken for granted by the people who walked past it every day, revered by the people who did not.

  His philosophical ramblings came to an abrupt halt.

  Adam’s heart missed a beat. His attention arrowed to the figure sprawled at its foot. She lay with her back to him, so he couldn’t see her face, didn’t know if he knew her. The woman had dark hair loosely bound back. She wore a rust-colored gown, like the one he’d first seen Delphi in when he’d spotted her here. Papers were scattered around her, like leaves from a tree.

  She didn’t move. Walking closer, Adam saw blood on her hair and a little under it, as if the abundant tresses had soaked up more.

  Nausea rose to Adam’s throat, but he forced it back down. This was where he’d seen Delphi, the exact spot, where she’d been too busy studying the column to notice anyone around her.

  But he’d left Delphi safe in his house—hadn’t he?

  In the time it took him to run to the figure, several emotions had poured through him. Terror, mostly. He had not seen Delphi that morning. Had she gone out early to visit the column? Would she have been foolish enough to do that? Her defiance had surprised and excited him but, now, it just terrified him.

  Let it not be her, please let it not be her.

  He leaped over the woman onto the shallow steps beyond, where Delphi had sat that memorable morning. He took a deep breath, preparing himself as best he could for what he might see.

  He lowered his eyes.

  The woman was not Delphi. Not Delphi, not her. Repeating the knowledge over and over, he let the shock ebb away until his hands didn’t shake anymore. If he could have helped the woman, he would have. But the moment he set eyes on her, it was obvious she was dead. Nothing could heal the deep slash in her neck, the wound obscenely gaping, the blood congealed and solidifying.

  This early in the day, just after dawn, few people were about. Anyone seeing her in the dim light could have assumed she was a vagrant or a drunkard sleeping in the open. If one didn’t look closely, the blood wasn’t immediately apparent.

  Her gown was disordered, and her arm lay over her body, concealing the wound from anyone casually glancing at her. Her gown had soaked up most of the blood, and the color disguised the stains. But Adam saw it now, and wished he never had.

  The sound of people approaching made him tear his horrified gaze from the corpse and into the eyes of the Duke of Trensom. Not far behind him, Matilda stood, staring, as he had, at the woman sprawled on the ground. Two footmen stood either side of her.

  Adam found his voice. “It’s not her,” he said. “Not Delphi. Get your wife away. This is no sight for her.”
<
br />   Trensom nodded to the footmen and addressed one of them. “Take the duchess home and call the Watch.” Although the officials who kept watch at night weren’t called that here, there were people who performed that function.

  Matilda’s face was as pale as milk under her broad-brimmed hat, but after exchanging a brief glance with her husband, she gave a brief nod and turned. The footman did the same. Together, they headed back the way they had come, setting a brisk pace.

  Adam glanced up at the man he’d brought and lowered his hand, a signal for him to remain. “Keep people away,” he ordered. The man bowed his head.

  Adam turned his attention back to the woman on the ground. He shook his head. “Somebody cut the poor woman’s throat. I don’t know her. Do you?” The interruption had given him the opportunity to force his emotions back. He didn’t need them right now.

  The woman’s gray eyes were open, staring ahead, seeing nothing. Death had filmed them over. Stepping forward, careful to keep his feet out of the blood, he bent and closed the lids. It took more effort than he’d planned for, as if she were determined to see more before she left this earth.

  Too late for that.

  He straightened, and glanced at the papers. Letters apparently, the creases distinctive. Some bore seals. He didn’t recognize the symbols he could see on the red wax. They were not in the same hand, but he didn’t know any of them. At least four different signatures on something like a dozen letters. He bent once more and lifted the edge of one of them, in order to see the address.

  “Mariella Passero,” he read out. Straightening, he gazed at the body.

  “I know of her,” Trensom said.

  While Adam had attended to the woman’s face, he’d pulled her skirt over her bare legs, giving her dignity in death. He nodded at a basket lying on the bottom step. Adam had not noticed it until now, and when he’d forced his mind back into working properly, he’d had his back to it. “That’s most likely hers. There are fresh vegetables in it, so it’s likely she’d been shopping before she came here.”