Sari Robins (21 page)

T
ess turned to Heath, her face filled with consternation. “Dead? The person accusing me of such things is dead? How can there be someone speaking against me who’s no longer living?”

Heath could hardly imagine how she was able to maintain such calm in the face of such obvious injustice. Furious, he turned to Bernard. “This is bloody rubbish! You can’t be serious.”

The barrister shook his head. “I wish I weren’t. The victim, Miss Reed, left behind a letter that marks Lady Golding as the prime suspect.”

Tess stood. “What? That makes no sense.”

The men rose to their feet.

Bernard handed a piece of foolscap to Tess as Heath and Bills leaned over her shoulder for a better view.

Tess’s hand shook as she read the letter. Her face was filled with shock and disbelief as she looked up. “Fiona didn’t write this, it’s not her handwriting.”

Bernard nodded. “This is not the original, Lady Golding. This version was copied by my man at the magistrate’s office.”

Tess looked pained as she shook her head and dropped into the chair. “I can’t believe that Fiona would write such things about me.”

“Are they sure the original note was written in Miss Reed’s hand?” Heath sat, troubled. A victim’s own words laying guilt upon someone could be potent evidence indeed where a jury was concerned. Even though Heath knew that everything in the note had to be false, it was going to cause them trouble.

Mr. Bernard removed the note from Tess’s hand and sat down. “The victim’s mother identified it as Miss Reed’s writing, quite convincingly, I might add. She also spoke against Lady Golding, saying that her daughter was always honest. If she was upset by things that Lady Golding had done, then they had to be terrible indeed. It was her testimony that swayed the magistrate to issue the warrant.”

Sitting, Bills whistled. “It’s hard to call a victim a scheming liar.”

Loaded silence descended in the small room, only broken by the
tap-tap
of the barrister’s fingernails drumming on the table.

“Where was the note found?” Heath asked.

“Not far from the body.”

Heath straightened. “So it wasn’t actually in Miss Reed’s possession.”

“No.”

“Was it sealed?”

The barrister shook his head. “The seal was broken and the letter crumpled, but very readable. I know what you’re thinking. That the person to whom Miss Reed sent the letter could be the killer. It’s a good supposition that we will bring up at
trial, of course. But the prosecutor will likely argue that Miss Reed never had the chance to post the letter, implying that Lady Golding somehow knew of it. Regardless, the more difficult issue is why Miss Reed would write such things and what, exactly, they mean.”

Bernard turned to Tess. “Does Mrs. Reed bear any ill will toward you?”

“We’ve always gotten on favorably well. Yet…” Tess bit her lip, her brow furrowed, obviously distressed.

Heath reached for her. “What is it, Tess?”

She looked up, those crystal blue eyes pleading. “I don’t want you to hate me.”

“I could never hate you.” Heath squeezed her hand.

“Thank you, but you might not be so sympathetic once I tell you the truth about me. I’ve done some things…some things that many people would abhor…”

Bernard’s fingers froze mid-tap.

Bills leaned forward.

Although Heath’s chest constricted with anxiety, he said calmly, “Whatever it is, it cannot change how I feel about you.” He realized it was true; his regard for her went well beyond anything he’d ever felt for any woman before. He couldn’t imagine anything altering his powerful feelings.

Still gnawing that lower lip, Tess nodded. “I hope so. What I’d really hoped was for you never to find out. But I realize that such reticence will do me no good. And it certainly won’t serve justice for Fiona.”

The silence grew thick with anticipation.

Tess exhaled. “After my husband died, I was destitute. We’d lost the house, the bank accounts were empty, and the creditors were pounding at my door.” Astoundingly, her tone contained no bitterness; she was simply laying forth the facts, facts that would have flattened most of the ladies he knew.

She continued, “My parents took me in. But they were appalled by the scandal and Quentin’s behavior and suffering under pressure from my in-laws and Lord Berber’s family, too. As a means of trying to distance themselves from all of it and show disdain for Quentin, my father pressed me to marry again, and quickly.”

Bills made a reproving clicking sound with his tongue. “Heaping scandal on top of scandal.”

“Very much so. But they were desperate and upset and irate with me.” Tess exhaled. “I refused. They cut me off. My father thought I’d come running back, begging for the chance to do his bidding.” She looked up at Heath, admiration in her gaze. “But as someone once told me, I’d ‘sooner take up arms than go begging to someone I felt had wronged me.’”

“Bully for you!” Bills shook his fist.

Tess’s smile was bittersweet. “Thank you, Bills, but I didn’t necessarily have the most level head at the time. And choices made when you’re tangled up in knots may not serve you so well when clear thought enters the picture once more.”

She rubbed her head as if pained, obviously getting
to the more difficult part. “I was hurt, angry, and had a reckless disregard for the society that had spurned me based on the rumors surrounding my husband’s demise. I couldn’t believe the nonsensical things people would believe.”

“People can be utter fools,” Heath agreed, realizing that his hands were gripping the table so tightly, they ached. He knew from courtroom experience that she was leading toward a confession, and he feared it, just as one in a nightmare fears whatever is behind that ominous closed door.

Tess nodded. “The injustice of it all…well, I decided to show them. To take a scandal and sift through the truth, and show them what poppycock they’d believed and how far it ventured from the true facts.”

The barrister’s brow furrowed. “I’m not following.”

Opening her hands, Tess explained, “I wrote an article in the
Girard Street Crier
. Under a pseudonym, of course, because if anyone knew that I’d written it, it would undermine the credibility of the article and would visit yet more scandal upon my family. I’d brought them enough grief already, no matter how unintentionally done.”

Bills scratched his ear. “The exposé on the Brinkley affair. You wrote that?”

“Yes.”

“But what does this have to do with Miss Reed’s murder?” Bernard asked, his voice clipped with impatience.

Sighing, Tess turned to him. “A man came to me
threatening to expose me as the author of the article unless I did as he asked.”

“The opportunistic bastard!” Heath gritted his teeth, forcing his face to calm when distress, jealousy, and fury swirled inside him like a maelstrom.

Her lips lifted slightly. “Oh, there’s no doubt of that. It’s his calling.”

“Did he…take advantage of you?” The words were hard to get out.

“Yes and no. In one respect, he was the answer to my prayers. You see, in addition to his threats, he offered me a way to escape the creditors, a means of being independent. I had to admire how his mind worked; he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. And an understanding was established between us.”

“Did Miss Reed find out about your arrangement with this gentleman?” Bernard asked.

Shrugging, Tess scratched her head. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine how she could have; I was so careful about when and where we met.”

Heath tried to rein in his anger, recognizing that it was mostly for the bastard who’d taken advantage of Tess, but also for her. If she’d lied about being with another man, what else had she lied about?

But she was a victim, and obviously had her reasons.

And he could hardly blame her for trying to secure a better future.

But at what cost?

A loud crack resounded, and Heath was surprised
to see a piece of the table in his hand. Embarrassed, he slipped it under his chair. “Uh, sorry.”

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry.” Tess’s eyes were sad. “I never wanted to lie to you.”

“So this is what you believe Miss Reed was speaking of in her missive?” Bernard asked.

Grief flashed across Tess’s features. “It pains me that she thought so ill of me. I know what I’ve done isn’t exactly right, but it’s not really so terrible, and it is for the greater good.”

“It’s over now, right?” Heath bit out, his fists curling. “You don’t still…”

Shooting Heath a look to try to be calm, Bills interrupted, “First things first. Who was the man?”

“Tristram Wheaton. He works at the Foreign Office.”

The opportunistic bastard!

Lowering her head, Tess continued, “And for two years now, I’ve been supplying him with information.”

Heath blinked, wondering if he’d heard right. “Information?”

Bills glared at his friend meaningfully. “Of course, information. What else would Tess trade?”

“Information?” Heath asked again, feeling like an idiot, but wanting to grab the ray of hope peeking through the storm clouds.

“You’re an informant for His Majesty’s government?” Bernard interjected, sitting up, his brown eyes alight with interest.

“Yes. The book business provides me with entrée to many homes and businesses in England. It was
Wheaton’s idea, and although I’d had my doubts, it has worked out quite well.”

“You like the business, don’t you?” Bills asked.

Turning her head, Tess met Bills’s gaze. “More that I’d ever have imagined. And I confess, being independent, earning my keep, well, it’s been vastly rewarding.”

Bernard nodded, scratching his chin. “So it’s a real business, but they set you up in the book trade and helped you financially?”

“Yes.”

“So you work for the Foreign Office?” Heath repeated dumbly, unable to grasp it.

Tess’s gaze was apprehensive. “Yes.”

Tess wasn’t bedding anyone. Except for him. And she hadn’t lied about sleeping with other men. Heath’s blinding jealousy transformed into a relief so profound, he felt almost giddy.

Bernard’s fingers began their dance on the tabletop once more, much faster now. “And in return for assisting your business, you provide what type of information and on whom?”

“Whomever Wheaton is interested in. Usually people in dire straits who may be receptive to influence. Those with family in France or known sympathizers. A combination of aspects that make keeping an eye on them a good idea.”

“You work for the Foreign Office,” Heath repeated as it finally sank in.

“Yes.”

He nodded as the puzzle pieces fell into place. The
hidden source of funds, her secrecy…“Is that why you were in the countess’s bedroom?”

Tess nodded. “Wheaton is very interested in her.”

“The countess…” Bills face was troubled. “And what of the other members of the Society for the Enrichment and Learning of Females?”

Tess shook her head. “I’ve put off Wheaton for months because I cannot believe that any of the members are a threat.”

“But?”

“But once the countess made application, and so quickly upon arriving in London, I had no choice but to do as my superior asked.”

“You’re a patriot,” Heath declared, slamming his fist on the table. At the looks on Bills’s and Bernard’s faces, he removed his hand. “Well, she is.”

Tess shook her head. “I don’t know that the people I’ve reported on will agree. I was very circumspect about what information I passed along, but I was still informing on people. I know I would be upset if it were me.”

“This is excellent.” Bernard wagged his finger to the paint-peeled ceiling. “I can work with this story. If we can get Wheaton to cooperate, reasonable doubt shouldn’t be too hard to secure. You’re a patriot, working for His Majesty in fighting Napoleon. This could be very good, indeed.”

“But it won’t prove my innocence,” Tess countered. “Nor will it unmask Fiona’s killer.”

Bernard tsked. “First things, first, Lady Golding. We must clear you of the charges, and the best way
to do that is to show what kind of character you truly are. It will undermine Miss Reed’s letter and lay the groundwork for other theories of the murder. There’s a foreign conspiracy perhaps? Your employee is mayhap tangled up in the plot and murdered for her interference?”

Heath straightened as realization dawned. “This is treacherous business, this spying.”

Tess’s brow furrowed. “It can be, but—”

“You have to stop,” Heath interrupted with utter conviction.

“You only just learned about it this moment, Heath. Once I explain—”

“You cannot do it any longer, Tess. It’s too dangerous.”

Tess’s mouth worked and she exhaled as if put out. “Wheaton has assured me that with what I do, the risk is minimal.”

“It’s spying, Tess.”

“I know what I do.” She crossed her arms, looking away.

“Against foreign agents in our country while we are at war. At war! By definition it’s dangerous!”

Gritting her teeth, Tess lifted her chin. “How about I tell you that you have to quit working for the solicitor-general?”

“It’s hardly the same. Mine is a respected profession—”