“Where’s the book?” Dreyfus asked, rather uncertainly.
“Well, I certainly am not carrying it with me,” Kyra snapped. When the two men just stared at her, Kyra forced an exasperated sigh. “How thick do you think I am?”
Dreyfus was the first to recover himself. “Well, tell us where it is.”
Kyra snorted. “No.”
When Smalls raised his pistol, pointing at her chest, Kyra felt like retching, but she shook her head haughtily. “Killing me won’t get you the book, Mr. Smalls. I imagine Edmund would be rather put out with you if you come back empty-handed.”
Dreyfus pushed Smalls’s hand down. He sauntered over to Kyra and smirked. “Smalls gets a little trigger-happy when he’s angry. As you say, killing you would be rather ineffective for our purposes, Lady Kyra. There are less permanent ways to solve our dilemma.”
Kyra inclined her head. “Hmm.”
Dreyfus flashed a charming smile and ran a finger along her cheek. “Do you know, my dear, you have beautiful skin. Utterly perfect, really. I bet that if I let Smalls carve up this cheek, this one perfect cheek, you’d quite readily tell us where the ledger is.” He dropped his hand and motioned for the larger man to come forward.
Keep talking, she told herself, swallowing hard. Any minute Grif will come to the rescue. Her faith had better not be misplaced, she mused, or she would make sure her spirit haunted her dratted husband for eternity.
“I was thinking perhaps we could come to an entirely different solution,” Kyra said, hoping her voice didn’t belie her panic. “One that benefits us all.”
The two men just looked at her. Kyra shook her head, praying her wild guess was correct. “I’m assuming you two gentleman have had a hand in the smuggling activity along our fair coasts. That is why Edmund has sent you for the ledger, correct?”
“What of it?” Dreyfus asked.
“I also assume that you are responsible for the untimely death of Lord Brumley.” She managed a small smile. “For which, by the way, you have my everlasting gratitude.”
“Hard-hearted, ain’t she?” Smalls said to Dreyfus. “I always thought gentle ladies were more squeamish than bloodthirsty.”
Dreyfus ignored his companion and shook his head at her. “You have no proof of either of those things. More important, you have nothing we want.”
Kyra tsked. “I have both, actually. The ledger, of course, will link you to the smuggling. And Mr. Conroy of the Bow Street Runners has already linked you to Brumley’s murder. He sent me a letter just last week saying as much. You remember Mr. Conroy, don’t you? Quite effective, he is. He’s gathering evidence against you as we speak. It would be a pity if that evidence or the ledger turned up in the course of a separate investigation—say, in the case of my death.” She eyed Smalls warily. “Or disfigurement.”
Smalls looked at Dreyfus, clearly unsure of what to do. Before Dreyfus could speak, Kyra jumped in, hoping to wrestle control from him.
“Now, let’s say someone else had already been accused of the murder,” she mused, “someone who’d already been tried and convicted by polite society. Perhaps, if that someone were to wind up dead, all speculation could be laid to rest with him.”
Dreyfus narrowed his eyes. “You mean Grif?”
Kyra nodded.
“What’re you proposing, lady?” Smalls asked, clearly taking a shine to the idea.
She waved the documents that she still held. “As you see, I’m leaving for the Continent in less than a week, and I don’t plan on returning. Therefore, I’m proposing, Mr. Smalls,” Kyra said carefully, “that you let me go quietly.” She smiled to emphasize her point. “And I do mean quietly.”
“And in exchange?” Dreyfus asked.
“In exchange, gentlemen,” she said lightly, “I’ll leave you the letters from Conroy and the ledger, of course. You can have every last scrap of evidence that I have assembled connecting you to any of this.” She met Dreyfus’s eye. “And I’ll tell you where to find my husband.”
Dreyfus shook his head. “She’s bluffing,” he said to Smalls. “She has no idea where to find Grif. Edmund thinks he’s long since tucked tail and gone overseas.”
“On the contrary,” Kyra said, praying that the shadows were not playing tricks on her. “I can tell you exactly where he is.” When she got no response, she shrugged. “It’s a good deal,” she said encouragingly. “I suggest you consider it.”
“All right, missy,” Smalls said to her. “Where is he?”
“Behind you,” came Grif’s voice from the shadows.
Smalls turned and fired wildly, and Kyra screamed as hands—Thomas’s hands—grabbed her to pull her out of danger. Grif lunged at Smalls as soon as he fired, knocking him to the ground and landing a couple quick punches that left Smalls groaning. Conroy knocked Dreyfus cold with one blow. Grif proceeded to work on the barely conscious Smalls until the man was still. Finally, when Thomas and Conroy had judged the earl had worked off some of his anger, they pulled him off the larger man and steered him toward his wife, who had sunk to the stones of the courtyard.
Knowing too well that the dazed look on his wife’s face was shock, Grif simply scooped her up and sauntered off to the carriage, leaving Thomas, Conroy and the two members of the Watch who’d acted as witnesses to clean up his mess.
She was so small, seemingly so fragile, and yet she had handled everything beautifully. He had only hoped Dreyfus and Smalls would show up—he never expected Kay would elicit a confession. Thanks to Kyra’s bravado and Conroy’s investigations they would have enough evidence to convict both Dreyfus and Smalls of smuggling and murder, both Brumley’s and Junior’s.
They’d waited in the shadows to apprehend the two men yet somehow they’d managed to slip past them and get to Kyra. It had taken every ounce of his self-control not to reveal himself and his compatriots when Dreyfus and Smalls had approached her. The moment Smalls had pointed a pistol at Kyra’s heart Grif had nearly blown everything by running out to her. Worse, the moment Kay had spotted him laid him bare. He was terrified for her—that she knew he was there and couldn’t help her.
Tossing her gracelessly into the carriage, he climbed in behind her and sank to his seat. She was still utterly silent, so Grif settled her on his lap, stroking her hair and soothing her with soft words. Kyra seemed to be coming to, though he dreaded what would happen once full understanding of the situation dawned on her.
A loud rap sounded on the roof and Grif opened door for Thomas. “Everything is good,” Thomas told him. “You’re officially a free man. I’ll make sure the newspapers have a full account of the tale. That should clear your name a little faster through the ton.”
Grif nodded, unable to speak. Thomas closed the door quietly, barking orders to the groom as he did so. At the lurch of the carriage, Kyra seemed to suddenly awaken. Her eyes flew to meet his, and she exhaled on a sob. She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his collar.
“It’s all right,” Grif told her. “You’re safe now.”
“No, it’s not,” she murmured. “I’m leaving in a few days. I’m leaving you.”
“I know,” he said softly. “You’re booked on the Lucretia.”
“You know?” She sniffed, looking up at him with watery eyes.
“Of course I know. I know you, Kay. And I’ll never underestimate you,” he said quietly, placing a warm kiss on her forehead.
“You’ll just let me go, Grif?” she asked softly. She looked at him with such a pained expression that it nearly undid his every last well-laid plan.
“Yes,” he said, mustering his will. “God help me, I will. But not before I tell you everything.”
“I already know everything, Grif,” she protested.
“But you should hear it, from me,” Grif said. “No more lies.”
I
t took monumental effort on his part, but the earl of Ashford told his wife everything. He explained his father’s wastrel existence and his own servitude to Edmund. He told her about the moment he decided to enlist to escape their arranged marriage. He expressed his incurable grief at losing Riley because of that decision. He described his smuggling and mercenary activities to keep his family from going broke. He told her about his fears for her when he heard she was in Scotland and his elation when he realized he could marry her. He admitted his utter joy at their marriage and his fear of telling her he was broke. By the time he told her about not reading her letter, Grif’s voice was a bit hoarse, and his wife had grown silent and very, very pale.
“So, you see,” he said matter-of-factly, “I’m a liar and a pauper and a fool, Kay. And though I love you with every fiber of my being, you deserve better.”
Kyra looked crestfallen. “You won’t ask me to stay?”
“Kyra,” he said slowly, “if you want to leave, it’s not my place to try to keep you here. I’m not going to stop you simply because I want you by my side. And I do want you with me, Kay. Always.”
“Then ask me to stay,” she said stubbornly.
“After all I’ve told you, you still don’t see,” Grif mocked gently. “We’re both proud creatures, Kyra. I won’t risk your resentment by keeping you tied to me.” Grif shook his head. “But if I throw myself prostrate at your feet, I may resent you. I hate it, but if it’s your intention to leave, I’ll let you go. I love you too much to confine you, Kay.”
Kyra nodded sadly. “I love you too, Grif. But I won’t stay if you don’t ask. I have too much pride and you’ve hurt me too much.”
The coach clattered to a stop, and Grif kissed his wife with all the love and passion he felt in his heart. He didn’t notice or care that the groom had long ago pulled the carriage door open. When he finally pulled his mouth from hers, she looked up at him with such a mixture of hurt and trust in her dark brown eyes that a wave of doubt washed over him, and he madly considered not ever letting her go.
She broke the silence first. “I would stay if you asked.”
Kyra’s mouth quirked into a little frown, and Grif wished he could kiss it away. He kissed her cheek instead. “I know. But I won’t ask it of you.”
Kyra nodded, then slowly climbed out of the carriage. “Are you coming home?”
“Not tonight,” Grif said. “I have business I must attend.”
Kyra refused to meet his eyes. “Of course.”
Grif looked down at his wife and nearly jumped out of the carriage. He grabbed the seat to keep himself in place. “Safe travels, Kay.”
Kyra nodded, still not looking at him. “Thank you, milord. Best wishes in your business.” Her voice broke on the last word. She gave him a proper curtsy. “Goodbye,” she said, casting a little glance at him.
Grif nodded.
Before he could change his mind, he closed the carriage door and rapped on the roof. As the driver slowly led the carriage out of the courtyard, Grif peeked back at his wife. Kyra was standing stock-still in the courtyard, eyes downcast. He knew it was an image he would carry with him for the rest of his life.
* * *
“I’ll bring it to your master myself, Jenkins,” a voice boomed outside the door of Edmund’s study.
Edmund Ashford looked up from his paper and allowed a frown to touch his mouth. That voice sounded familiar, but he wasn’t sure to whom it belonged. The door flew open and that shaggy blond fellow his nephew frequently had at his side sailed into the room, Jenkins fast on his heels, clearly trying to stop the man.
Thomas Harting stopped in the middle of the room, delighted at the pinched look on Edmund’s face. He tossed something onto the desk—a newspaper—and grinned. “Special delivery, Ashford.”
Edmund dismissed his butler with a wave and picked up the paper. The headline, “Earl of Griffin Cleared of Murder,” made his pale face even whiter than usual. He looked up at Thomas, whose blue eyes were twinkling.
“I’ll save you the trouble of reading that article, Edmund,” Thomas said in his lazy drawl. “Apparently Andrew Dreyfus and a man named Jack Smalls are responsible for Brumley’s untimely death. A Bow Street Runner by the name of Conroy has been investigating the ring for some time now and has collected a rather impressive amount of proof that the two gentlemen were in cahoots with Brumley—smuggling, if you can believe it. It seems things got rather nasty when Brumley tried to bilk the others of their fair share, so Dreyfus and Smalls turned on him. Can you countenance it?”
Edmund squeaked in surprise.
Thomas smiled. “I thought not. Stealing from the help. Low. Quite low, indeed. Apparently Smalls and Dreyfus tried to name a few other peers as party to this ring, but the Watch have such clear-cut evidence from Conroy that they believe the men to be nothing more than bitter liars trying to drag down anyone with whom they have a grudge.”
When Edmund finally spoke, he could barely spit the words out of his clenched teeth. “What do you want?”
“Funny you should ask,” Thomas said gaily. “It would be an absolute shame if certain other evidence, ledgers or whatnot, surfaced during the course of this investigation. Especially since AD is mentioned quite frequently.”
“Yes, it would be a shame. For everyone involved.” He glared at Thomas.
Thomas just smirked. “Do you know, Edmund, that your Gs, with all their lovely flourishes, look quite a lot like Ds. In fact, I daresay it might be rather easy for someone to change all of your Gs into Ds. It wouldn’t even take that much time, really. An hour or so gets the job done. That would rather change, well, everything. At least for one or two parties involved. Who is Dr, by the way?”
“The Kent smugglers could identify—” Edmund started.
“Oh, I think not,” Thomas countered. “From what I hear, smugglers are damned hard to find. Not to mention they are a loyal lot, especially when they have a leader who actually cares for their safety and well-being. Did you know,” he said conversationally, “I’ve heard that over the last couple of years my good friend the earl of Griffin has donated money so that certain villages in Kent may have decent schools and reputable doctors. Quite generous of him, don’t you think?”
By the look on Edmund’s face, Thomas knew he had him.
“What do you want?” Edmund asked again.
“According to our numbers, it looks as though some of your, er, personnel were grossly underpaid. We’d like to see you pay it. All of it.”
Edmund sighed morosely. “How much?”
Thomas grinned and produced a piece of paper. “Funny you should ask, as I have the number right here,” he said as he handed the paper to Ashford. At Edmund’s pained expression, Thomas’s grin deepened. “Oh, that doesn’t include the half of Lady Kyra’s dowry that you stole from her and her spouse. We’ll need that too.”
“I’ve sunk a good deal of that money into investments! Giving you the original funds will use up all of my liquid assets and then some,” Edmund said, mortified. “I’ll be penniless.”
“Oh, dear,” Thomas said, feigning concern. “How awkward. Perhaps I’d better talk to Mr. Conroy after all.”
Edmund slumped in his seat, staring at the desk. At long last, he reached for a drawer and said in a thick voice, “I will give you my note—”
Thomas coughed. “Unfortunately I am instructed to accept cash only.” He shrugged apologetically. “Grif insisted, I’m afraid. Mr. Duprey stands ready at the bank to make the transfer go as smoothly as possible. He understands the need for confidentiality and all.”
“Odd that Grif made you do his dirty work,” Edmund said through pinched lips. He rose, clearly disgusted. “I would’ve thought he’d come to gloat. Where did you say my nephew is again?”
“He had more important matters to attend,” Thomas said softly,
ushering Edmund toward the door. “I happily volunteered to come in his stead.”
“More important than a small fortune?” Edmund snorted, crossing the threshold. “What could be more important than that?”
Thomas smiled. “I really couldn’t say.”
* * *
“Honestly, Kay, I cannot believe how utterly dreadful this trip has been, and you have yet to board the ship,” Patricia groaned, her face rather green from the bouncy carriage ride they had just endured through the city. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Couldn’t you have picked a cleaner harbor? The smell of this one is particularly wretched.”
Annabelle piped up, glaring at her sister. “It’s not the harbor, you ninny! You always get ill in the carriage,” she complained. “Kyra, you should have told Tricia to stay home. I can’t abide the thought of her losing her stomach on my gorgeous new slippers. She’d utterly destroy them.”
“Girls!” Lady Eleanor snapped. “That’s quite enough! We’re here to give Kay a proper send-off.” She seemed utterly composed in spite of the bickering, so it came as little surprise that she turned a playful smile on her daughter-in-law. “‘Struth, Kay, I may join you just to get away from these squabbling biddies you call sisters.”
Kyra managed a smile, even though she felt dreadful. Her mood was foul. It had been foul for the last two days, as a matter of fact. While it had nothing to do with her sisters-in-law and their fussing, she found herself more than a little annoyed.
“Thank you all for accompanying me to the ship,” she said as kindly as she could. “I know this hasn’t been an easy trek for any of us.”
Lady Eleanor placed a hand on Kyra’s arm and smiled kindly. “I hope you find happiness on this journey, my dear. When you’re ready to return to us, we will welcome you with open arms.”
Kyra nodded, not willing to tell her mother-in-law that she had no plans to return. She knew Lady Eleanor believed that she and Grif would reconcile. It was not her place to dash those hopes, Kyra mused, even though she considered such thoughts foolish.
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