He mouthed a silent thanks to Orelia as she led his mother off. The woman looked as though she aged ten years, but he knew full well it was all for effect. By tonight, she’d be blistering his ears about letting strange men into the house.
“All well?” Noah asked.
“Yes. Ambrose is an old acquaintance.”
“You will have to excuse my appearance,” Ambrose said, tugging off his cap and clutching it in one hand. “I’ve had a bit of an adventure recently.”
Noah shrugged, apparently missing what Ambrose said. “Good luck assuaging Mother later.”
Reed waved a hand. “I’ll deal with her.” He addressed Mosley who had adopted the expression of someone who smelled something terrible with firm lips and a wrinkled nose. “Some food in the library please. And tea and coffee.” He turned to Ambrose. “Though I suspect you may want something stronger.”
Ambrose nodded eagerly.
Reed led Ambrose through to the library and he poured them two fingers of scotch each. Handing it over, he eyed the man who had been his main contact throughout most of his years of working for the Secret Service.
“Someone finally bought your freedom then?”
“Indeed.” He grinned. “A very generous man, it seems.”
Reed lifted a shoulder and sat in the armchair by the fire. “Took longer than I’d hoped, though.”
Ambrose followed suit. “It was not much fun being on the other side of the bars, I shall give you that, but I learned a few useful skills while I was there.”
“I am glad your time was not wasted. But honestly, Ambrose, did you not have time to stop for a bath or a change of clothes?”
“Not at all I am afraid. You shall have to apologize to your mother for me.”
“She’ll get over it.” He took a sip of the scotch. It might be early but after waking to such drama, he needed the luxurious warmth of the alcohol. “So what brings you here with such urgency?”
“It seems we have our man.”
Reed paused, his glass halfway to his mouth before lowering it to the table at the side of the chair. “We do?”
“They arrested him two days ago. Got a confession.”
“Damn.”
Ambrose grinned. “I’m assuming you were hoping to be there yourself.”
“Who was he?”
“One of the gypsy sailors. The captain of the Norfolk is back in port and fingered him as one of the men he’d taken on board. The gypsy all but handed himself in.”
Frowning, Reed shook his head. “But why would a gypsy do it?”
“He wouldn’t talk. But they found more of the wine used to try to poison old Boney in his belongings. With that and his confession, it’s enough to close the case.”
“It makes no sense...”
Ambrose shrugged. “When does killing anyone ever make sense? Come now, Reed, you’ve seen enough subterfuge to understand sometimes motivations aren’t clear.”
“Was he working alone?”
His friend nodded. “He claims the man who tried to shoot Boney was a friend, but it was only the two of them.”
Rubbing a hand across his chin, Reed stared sightlessly at the row of books in front of him. It made no sense. Orelia had been right from the beginning, he was certain of it. Why would a gypsy try to kill Boney? What could they gain from it?
Or had he just been blind from the beginning? Had he allowed her to talk him away from his suspicions and lose his chance to get his man?
Because why else would someone confess at the risk of death or deportation?
The man had to be guilty.
Reed exhaled slowly. “I appreciate you coming to tell me.”
“I’d heard tell you were on the path of some soldier. Didn’t want you getting in any deeper elsewhere, so I thought it best I come directly to you. I certainly could not risk putting this information in a note.”
“No, of course not.”
Reed threw back the fingers of scotch and stared at the empty glass. It was all over then. He’d be back to twiddling his thumbs and praying for another case—which was unlikely at this point with the war over.
And Orelia...
Well, she would go do whatever it was she planned to do once she was a good deal richer. He allowed himself a smile. At least she would be looked after. That was something, was it not?
“What’s with the gypsy girl?” Ambrose asked.
“She was helping me.”
An eyebrow lifted.
“Not like that,” Reed snapped. “She knew her community better than I.”
“Ah, useful to have friends on the inside.”
“Yes.”
“But why is she here, in your house?” Ambrose pressed. “Surely she could have served you better remaining with her people?”
Reed shook his head. “It’s too hard to explain.”
But was it? Did he really need to have kept her here for so long? After all, he only needed her help briefly. Once they’d had the information of the whereabouts of the gypsies who’d been on board the ship, he could have released her from his service but instead he decided to go through this farcical nonsense of keeping her about.
He had to admit, however, there were a few moments made much easier by her canny ability to act the spy. Another smile curved his lips as he recalled her pretending to be pregnant and in need then becoming the countess for a night. He really could not have picked a better companion.
However, he needed to let her go now. He’d held onto her for too long.
“Will you be returning to London now this is done?” Reed asked.
Ambrose nodded. “No sense in me staying here, particularly when there may be one or two people not happy about my early release before standing in front of the court.”
“I imagine there will be a few surprised faces when they discover you are no longer there.”
“Besides, I have a hankering for a good wash and a comfortable bed. Both of which I can have at home.” He chuckled.
“I’ll join you,” Reed suggested. “I’d like to hand over what I know and speak to this man, if possible.”
“You will discover little, I fear. I’m told he refused to talk as soon as he gave his confession.”
Reed scowled. “And yet we are certain he worked alone?”
Ambrose lifted a shoulder. “We’ve been on this case for too long. The Secret Service is happy to accept his confession.”
Reed pinched the bridge of his nose. Something did not feel right about it. “When will you leave?”
“There’s a stagecoach bound for London leaving at midday.”
“Give me an hour and we can travel in mine.”
Ambrose’s grin widened. “Excellent. I wouldn’t mind travelling in a little more luxury at all.”
The butler eased open the door and entered with a tray of bread, sausages and bacon. Reed nodded toward the main table. “Put them there please.” He stood and placed down the empty glass. “Ambrose, I shall prepare and then we shall be on our way. You eat up, you look half-starved.”
His friend eyed the plate of food and nodded. “That I am. I’ll stay here. Would not want to give your mother another fright.”
“Good idea.”
Reed strode out of the library and followed the corridor to the hallway.
Orelia slipped out of the drawing room and eased the door shut behind her. “I was about to come looking for you. Who is that man?”
“Is mother well?”
She twined her hands together in front of her. “Yes, of course. I am sure she will have a few choice words for you later, but she has calmed down.”
“Her words will have to wait. I must travel to London.”
“Oh.” Her gaze dropped to the floor.
He looked over her features with regret. He supposed by the time he returned, she would be long gone.
Her gaze lifted. “Shall I pack?”
Shaking his head, he began his ascent up the stairs. Orelia followed close behind. “There
is no need for you to come,” he clarified.
“What is going on, Reed?”
He paused midway up the stairs and faced her. One step lower, she seemed small and fragile. He longed to scoop her into his arms and beg her to stay but how could he trap her here, amongst people who would never accept her?
“It’s over,” he said, aware his voice sounded hollow.
“Over?”
“They’ve caught the man responsible for trying to poison Napoleon.”
Her throat worked. “That’s good news, is it not?”
“Yes, I suppose it is.”
She sighed. “I shall confess I was looking forward to trying to catch him ourselves but...”
“I need to go to London to speak with the suspect and debrief my superiors.”
“Of course you do.”
He took a breath. “Orelia, the man is a gypsy.”
“Pardon?”
“The suspect is a Romani,” he reiterated.
Her brow furrowed. “Whatever do you mean? We know my people were not involved. We went over that. Surely...?”
“He’s confessed. He was found with the wine and the ship’s captain has identified him. We’ve been on a damn wild goose chase.”
She shook her head slowly. “No, that cannot be right.”
Reed turned and continued up the stairs. She scurried after and tugged at his shirt sleeve, causing him to stop.
“You cannot really believe it was him, can you?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Why should I think any different? What man would confess to a crime that he did not commit and risk the gallows?”
“I-I’m not sure but—”
“It’s over, Orelia. It’s over.”
Her eyes flashed. “No, it’s not. We must investigate more, Reed. Whoever this man is, I don’t believe he’s guilty. He cannot be. Why would a Romani try to kill Napoleon? It’s preposterous.”
“There are many reasons people kill,” he said wearily.
“So we just give up? Accept that the case is over? You are so willing to believe the worst of my people, are you not? You’re no different to anyone else!”
“I think that’s a little unfair. I brought you into my home—”
Her eyes narrowed. “Oh yes, I forgot. Thank you, Your Grace, for being so benevolent.” She gave an exaggerated curtsey.
“Well, there’s no need to be sarcastic,” he grumbled.
“I suppose I was foolish to believe anyone might imagine my people innocent. I was certainly a fool to think that...” She trailed off and shook her head.
“To think what?” he demanded.
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears when she lifted her gaze to his. She drew in an audible breath. “I see now that I have overstayed my welcome. For that, I hope you will forgive me.”
“Orelia—”
“I will get out of this,” she motioned to the gown, “and gather my belongings.”
“You can keep the damned gown.”
“And do what with it? I would look a fool travelling on foot in such a thing and all the more likely to be robbed.”
“Once I’ve paid you, you can hire your own damned carriage if you wish.”
She smiled softly. “Perhaps I shall.”
He did not know why but those words felt like farewell. Like the end of it all. He dipped his head. “If you meet me in the study once you are packed, I shall ensure you are paid.”
Her smile appeared forced. “Excellent.”
Reed searched his mind for something to say, some way to persuade her to stay or not be angry at him or to kiss him or reach for him. But nothing came. He could hardly fathom what had happened or what he hoped would happen. It certainly hadn’t been this, however.
Before he could persuade his snail’s pace of a brain to work, she turned and headed to her bedroom to pack her meagre belongings. It would take her all of a few minutes, so he headed downstairs to the study. Noah glanced up from the desk.
“I would wager from that expression, your visitor did not bring good news. And I would also wager quite a sum that your dour expression has a lot to do with Orelia,” his brother said.
“You would certainly win that wager, Noah,” he muttered.
Noah frowned, apparently missing his comment. “Will you tell me what that was all about?”
“I will explain it all soon,” Reed promised, “but first I must make arrangements. Orelia will be leaving us today and I am away to London.”
“And I suppose I am not to ask why?”
“You can ask, but I cannot give you many answers.” He scowled. “In truth, I am at a loss to what happened myself.”
Yes, how had he gone from content and happy in Orelia’s arms to feeling as though his world had crumbled apart? He straightened his shoulders and pulled open one of the desk drawers. He was a spy. He faced many tricky situations during his time. This would not be the one that would be his downfall. Orelia would not be the end of him.
Chapter Twenty-Six
It was an odd thing to be suddenly rich. Orelia skimmed her hand along the fence that cut the field off from another. She did not look or feel any different.
Well, perhaps that was a lie. She had awoken feeling vastly changed with a smile on her face, imagining all sorts of foolish scenarios. Reed declaring his love for her perhaps. Him taking her back to bed. Her staying at the abbey forever, putting down roots and finally finding where she belonged.
But even in her imaginings, reality could not fail to slip in. She would never fit in at Keswick, and she would certainly never belong at Reed’s side.
Nothing confirmed that more than his determination to believe that a Romani had tried to kill Napoleon. Every argument she’d had with him in the early days of their acquaintance still stood. Why would a Romani do such a thing, alone no less?
She climbed over the sty and jumped down the other side. Maybe he was willing to concede defeat, but she was not. Rich or not, she would not think on her future until she had proven that man was innocent—and she had found the real culprit.
The sight of all the wagons spread across the field made her smile. She hadn’t seen them for weeks and had almost forgotten what a Romani camp could look like. The scent of smoke and the tune of a whistle curled through the air toward her.
Certainly, she was grateful to Reed for rescuing her from a forced marriage and so much of her knew she could not remain with her people anymore. She had seen and done too much, and her mixed heritage would forever make her an outcast, but there were many things she felt proud of about being part-Romani. For one, they never abandoned each other. And she would not abandon them now.
She ducked between the wagons and found her mother’s. Drawing in a breath, she climbed the few steps and rapped on the door. There was a scuffle and the vehicle rocked before her mother flung open the door. The odor of stale alcohol clouded around her.
“What the devil are you doing here?”
Orelia eyed her mother. Was it her imagination or had she aged in the past weeks? She seemed more tired, with deeper grooves in her face.
“Shouldn’t you be off with your rich husband?” the woman spat.
Orelia shook her head. She wasn’t sure what she could say. It was far too hard to explain anything, and she could not very well tell her about their mission.
Her mother folded her arms. “You’re not coming back here if that’s what you think. There’s not enough room. Did he get fed up with you?”
Any sympathy she might have had for her mother vanished. “No, Mama. I just needed to ask you a question.”
“Well, what is it? I don’t have much time. We’re to leave in a few days. Apparently there has been some complaints and if we don’t move on, the locals are likely to create a fuss.”
That didn’t surprise her. As fascinating as some of the population found the Romani, eventually they tired of them and wanted them moved on.
“Did you hear of the man who was arrested, Mama?”
�
��Oh yes, Manfri.” Her mother snorted. “He should have stayed away. Now he’ll be strung up.”
“What did they say he did?”
She shrugged. “I heard he was thieving. Think he stole some goods from the ship a few of them went on.”
“What of his family? What did they say?”
Her mother crossed her arms. “Look, girl, I need to be packing up. You never had a taste for gossip before, what is all this?”
“Do you know anything about his family?” Orelia pressed, ignoring the finger thrust in her face.
“Not a thing. They went into hiding not too long after he returned. They won’t be travelling with us anymore, that I can tell you.”
“So you cannot tell me where they are?”
“No, I cannot, you nosey wretch. Why don’t you keep your nose to yourself and go be with your husband? You don’t belong here anymore, girl, and I’m mightily glad not to have to put up with your noise anymore.”
Orelia drew in a long breath and held it. It still stung a little, but this was not the first time she’d had a tirade thrown at her.
It would be the last though.
“Mama, I do love you. I probably should not but I do. I wish you all the best. I hope you stop drinking one day.”
“Why you—”
Orelia ducked the backhand to her face and walked away quickly. Her hands trembled so she clamped them to her side. At least seeing her mother had confirmed one thing—she no longer belonged with the Romani.
She made her way down to the riverside and smiled at the sight of old Marko, looking as though he had never moved from his spot by the chess board.
He glanced up at her, his eyes crinkling. “Little Orelia, whatever are you doing here? Should you not be enjoying married life and creating babies?”
“You’re moving on soon,” she said, sitting opposite him.
“Indeed. Did you see your Mama?”
She nodded. “We said our farewells.”
A grey eyebrow rose but he said nothing.
“I heard Manfri was arrested for stealing.”
He blew out a breath. “Aye, and they’ll be stringing him up I reckon. Or shipping him off.”
“For theft?”
Marko shrugged. “He’s a Romani. He could be merely guilty of begging and be strung up.”
A Rake for All Seasons: A Regency and Victorian Romance Boxset Page 19
