“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 cann
ot 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—”
“So public perception is the deciding factor?” Her tone was incredulous.
“Don’t be absurd.”
“Don’t think you can tell me what I can and cannot do!”
Bills raised his hands in entreaty. “Can we discuss this after we see Tess cleared of murder charges?”
The silence was loaded with tension as Heath glared at Tess, willing her to see reason. But she lifted her chin, refusing to meet his gaze.
Obstinate girl. Couldn’t she see that he was only trying to protect her?
Bernard sniffed. “Mr. Smith is right. First things first. Lady Golding will have no opportunity to spy if she is swinging from the gallows.”
The image of Tess hanging from a noose materialized in Heath’s mind, and his chest constricted with horror.
Tess’s hand lifted to her neck, and fear flashed in her eyes. Her gaze sought Heath’s.
Swallowing, Heath squeezed her shoulder. “We have enough battles at the moment, we needn’t fight each other.” For now. He wasn’t about to let her keep up with this dangerous spying business.
Tess nodded, clearly unconvinced, but concerned with more pressing matters as well.
“The critical thing, as I see it,” Bernard said, “is if this Mr. Wheaton will make himself and your connection known. Will he?”
Exhaling a shaky breath, Tess bit her lip. “Wheaton is…well, he’s quite Machiavellian. But I think he will. He’s out of town at the moment, though. Mr. Reynolds is filling in.”
Bridging his hands before him, Bernard nodded. “Two men who know about your work with the Foreign Office. This is getting better and better. I confess, at first I wondered if it was a domestic squabble or a quarrel over pay. But this is far better.”
“Not for Fiona,” Tess interjected, her features a mask of grief. “I want to know who killed my friend and I want to see him pay. We have a murderer running about scot-free, and that, I cannot allow.”
“Hear, hear,” Heath murmured, filled with admiration for Tess and her desire for justice.
She shot him a grateful glance. “Will you help me?”
“I’ll be the first in the hunting party.”
Reaching over, she grasped his hand, and he was filled with a sense of affinity. No matter the conflicts between them, when things got bad, they would stand by each other.
Bernard scratched his chin. “So how do we find these Foreign Office fellows?”
Tess’s gaze moved to Bernard. “Downing Street. I have no idea where Wheaton went, but Reynolds will know. Still, he can confirm everything I told you is true.”
“Excellent. I will speak with this Reynolds chap,” Bernard said, rising. “Get him to step forward.”
Heath stood. “I’m going with you to the Foreign Office.” Tess’s fate was too important for him to sit idly by.
“Count me in, too,” Bills added.
Looking up at the men, Tess’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “I’m a very lucky lady.”
Scratching his cheek, Bills shook his head. “I don’t know many other women sitting in Newgate Prison who’d say the same.”
Pride and a possessive feeling that Heath couldn’t identify surged through him. “Tess is no ordinary woman.”
Chapter 28
“You lying bastard!” Furious, Heath grabbed Reynolds by the lapels. But the wiry man was much stronger than he appeared and shoved Heath off and moved behind the desk in mere seconds.
Reaching into a drawer, Reynolds pulled out a short sword and pointed it directly at Heath’s chest. “You’ll take your leave now and not bother me with your imaginary theories.”
“If you’re a secretary, I’m a proper seamstress,” Bills growled, stepping to Heath’s side.
Bernard held up his hands. “There’s no call for violence, now, my good man. All we need is to speak with your superior.”
“Mr. Wheaton’s not here,” scoffed the secretary, who no doubt had never seen this side of a quill. Reynolds was a reedy thing with a pointy face and a high, nasally voice. When the man had first called for them to enter his office, Heath had thought that the man seemed harmless enough, with his short stature and slender frame. But with the blade unwavering in his hands, matched only by his pitiless gaze, Heath suddenly knew that the bloke would kill without hesitation. How could Tess have worked with such a man? Well, it had to stop.
“Where is Mr. Wheaton?” Bernard inquired.
Like that of any vermin with a predator nearby, Reynolds’s dull brown gaze did not leave Heath. “Out of town. But don’t bother trying to reach him; he’ll be even less patient with your wild accusations about us working with some trollop than me.”
“Trollop!” Heath raised a fist.
“We’re not accusing anyone of anything,” Bernard countered, shooting Heath a quelling glance. “We’re simply here at Lady Golding’s behest.”
Reynolds’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t know her, except by reputation, of course,” he sneered. “I hear she’s quite free with her favors.”
“You son of a bitch!” Heath stepped forward.
The short sword jerked, aiming for his chest.
Bills laid a hand on Heath’s arm, pulling him back. “You’ll do Tess no good if you’re in a grave or a prison.”
Reynolds smirked. “You’re mighty heroic when you know you can’t do a thing. Feeling a bit impotent, are you?”
“The man’s cracked,” Bills whispered in Heath’s ear. “And there’s more than one way to bake a cake, my friend. Tess needs your help and this is not the way to do it.”
Torn, Heath didn’t budge. Reynolds was a double-dealing snake. And his insults went beyond the pale.
He knew that Tess wasn’t lying. It simply wasn’t her style. She might not tell the whole truth but she was not an out-and-out fabricator. Moreover, the facts were incriminating enough to be wholly against her interests. And she knew that they would be checked.
Why was Reynolds being such an ass? Afraid of scandal? Afraid of the ton taking up arms about being investigated? Concern over society putting pressure on the Foreign Office to cease some of its operations? Governmental rivalries?
No matter what possibility came to mind, Heath sensed that Reynolds’s actions were directed against Tess. They had to be, to desert a woman when she faced hanging.
Bills tugged on Heath’s arm. “We’re getting nowhere here. And when you hit a wall…”
Dig a tunnel, was what they’d always said when they’d run into difficulty at the Inns of Court.
“You’re a bug in need of squashing,” Heath bit out, turning his back on the son of a bitch and heading toward the door. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. “Try it,” he dared over his shoulder. “And you’ll swing before the end of the week.”
Bernard put his hat on his head. “Obviously we were mistaken, Mr. Reynolds. We’re sorry to have disturbed you.”
The three men silently filed out of the room.
Once on the pavement, Bills spoke, “Don’t those fellows have some sort of code about not leaving a man behind on the field?”
Bernard adjusted his sleeves. “Apparently not, if what Lady Golding says is true.”
“She’s not lying.” Heath’s glare was matched only by Bills’s.
“The Cat and Bagpipes is around the corner,” Bernard offered. “I suggest we repair there to consider our tactics.”
The men silently
traversed the narrow streets and alleys, passing muck-scented livery stables and dilapidated lodging houses. The sounds of carriage wheels, horses’ hooves, and hawkers plying their wares filled the air.
The Cat and Bagpipes was half empty as the men took a table near the front entrance by the door. They each ordered ale, but when it arrived, Bernard was the only one to drink.
Bernard leaned forward, his tone affable. “I heard that some of the public houses around here were hostels of old for pilgrims seeking the shrine of Edward the Confessor at Westminster Abbey.”
Heath shrugged, his mind filled with Tess and her troubles.
“Still reading history, are you?” Bills made a face. “Well we have a lady’s future to consider, if you don’t mind.”
Bernard sniffed.
Running his hand through his hair, Heath swallowed his frustration. “We need to find Wheaton.”
Bernard snorted. “Why? So we can hit another dead end? I’m not a Bow Street Runner and neither are you.”
“Mayhap Wheaton has a bit more honor than that nasty Reynolds bugger,” Bills countered.
Shaking his head, Bernard sipped from his drink. “If you do find this Wheaton fellow, which will be difficult enough to do, you’ll likely get the same response as Reynolds. I say we find another course. One more suitable to keeping our eyes on the real target—getting Lady Golding out of Newgate.”
Heath had never admired the snippity barrister more than he did at that moment. Leaving Tess at Newgate that afternoon had been one of the hardest things Heath had ever done.
Heath peered out the window, wondering what she was doing. It was growing late, and his last hopes of clearing Tess so she wouldn’t have to spend the night at Newgate were fading with the darkening sky. A night in such a place…
Curling his fists, Heath pushed aside the anxiety, refusing to give in to the phantoms. She’d be fine. She was inside the warden’s residence. Warden Newman had given his word that she’d be perfectly safe. Anna was there, too.
Instead of allowing his fears to strangle him, Heath would use the anxiety to propel him forward to chase down whatever avenue would see her free and safe and in his arms once more. “So what do you propose we do, Bernard? I am open to any suggestions.”
Sari Robins Page 22
