than once…Not good at all.”
“No one knows but us,” I said. “Unless it was part of the information Lord Fortescue was holding over Robert, and whoever is in possession of that now decides to come forward with it.”
“I can’t imagine that Fortescue would have missed such a detail. But unless we can find his private papers, we’ve no way of discovering what precisely he knew.”
“He was too sharp to keep them somewhere people would search. I’m going to write to Mrs. Reynold- Plympton. She was more of a wife to him than any of his three legal ones, and so far as I can tell, she exerted a great deal of influence over him politically. They were more than lovers.”
“I suppose now that Fortescue is dead she’d have no reason to keep his secrets hidden.”
“Unless she’s planning on using them herself,” I said. “She might not be ready to relinquish her political power.”
“Perhaps, but she’d have a difficult time wielding it without Fortescue.”
“Doesn’t that depend on how spectacular the information she knows is?”
“To a degree. But the fact is that without him, she has very little clout.”
“I had one other thought,” I said. “I think Fortescue was also having an affair with Flora Clavell. Could his murder be a simple case of jealousy?”
“You think Flora Clavell killed him? I seem to remember you suspected her husband at one point.”
“I don’t think either of them is guilty. But what about Mrs. Reynold-Plympton? She wouldn’t have ever felt threatened by Lady Fortescue, but Flora’s young and pretty and smart.”
“An interesting theory. But she wasn’t in Yorkshire.”
“She was. At Highgrove, attending the Langstons’ party,” I said. “Jeremy was there, too.”
“You’re certain?”
“I remember it distinctly.”
“That’s a lead worth pursuing.” He tossed the newspaper article onto a table. “Damn Brandon for lying about this.”
“He lied?”
“He was shown the gun—held it in his hands—and denied ever having laid eyes on it before,” Colin said.
“I can’t believe he’d do such a thing.”
“He was in desperate circumstances, Emily, and he probably assumed that no one other than Fortescue could make the connection between the guns. In theory, it shouldn’t matter, but if it were to be exposed during the trial…” He shook his head. “What I don’t understand is how the pair of pistols was separated, and how one of them wound up back in England if their owner died in Vienna.”
“Mr. Sanburne’s personal effects would have been returned to his family, wouldn’t they? And that must have included one of the pistols and perhaps their case.”
“It’s odd they didn’t send both of them,” he said.
“Perhaps Schröder stole it after his brother was killed. We can find out easily enough how he came to get it.”
“Perhaps it doesn’t matter.” He was pacing again.
“I don’t believe for a moment that Mr. Sanburne killed himself because he didn’t stop the duel. Did you know about his suicide? I thought he’d died of influenza.”
“That was the story circulated by the family. His sister was in dire enough straits without having the stigma of suicide to contend with.”
“I’ve one other distressing piece of news. Would you like it now, or shall I wait?”
“May as well bludgeon me with all of it at once.”
“I believe I know who warned Lord Fortescue.”
“One of Schröder’s men?”
“Not quite. Schröder is having an affair with a woman who is…connected with politics in England.”
“Who?”
“The Countess von Lange.”
“Kristiana?” he asked. I nodded. “How do you know this?”
“I was suspicious when I saw his reaction when I told him she was still romantically involved with you.”
“But you have no firm proof?”
“Jeremy confirmed it this afternoon.” Meeting Colin’s eyes was difficult. I was afraid of what I might see in them. “She is not an infrequent guest at Herr Schröder’s house.”
If he felt any emotion at that moment, he did a superb job of hiding it. His demeanor did not change in the least, but he did stop pacing. “I’ll speak to her at once. If it was she, and she’s been hiding it all this time…” He paused. “No. I can’t imagine she would do that. She’s unscrupulous in many ways, but she would never stand by and send an innocent man to his death.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” I said, but I was skeptical, and not entirely pleased that he was so quick to defend her. “But if so, it doesn’t bode well for Robert unless there’s another part to the story that we’re missing.”
“While we’re on the subject of illicit loves, have you talked to Bainbridge?”
“What on earth do you mean?” I asked, hoping I looked imperturbable.
“He’s in love with you, and I’m feeling a bit guilty for sending you around with him. He must be feeling supremely tortured. But I can’t go myself without neglecting my own work, and I can’t let you continue what you’re doing alone.”
“I could ask Cécile to come instead.”
He shook his head. “You’re treading in parts of the city that could turn dangerous in an instant. I’d prefer to know that you’ve a gentleman to—”
“To protect me?”
“Forgive me, yes.”
“Do you want me to stop what I’m doing altogether?” I asked.
“Would you?”
“No.” I stared at him, feeling more than a little uneasy.
“Good. I think it’s easier that we are both embroiled in complicated messes. I don’t mean Bainbridge—I mean the work. Neither of us would ever expect the other to stop.”
“Of course not. But Colin…”
“What is it?”
I could not meet his eyes. “He kissed me.”
“I know. Kristiana saw everything and was all too glad to tell me.”
“I’m so sorry. I should have told you as soon as it happened, but I—”
He put three fingers on my lips. “I have never doubted your fidelity.” My breath started coming more quickly as our eyes met. “Perhaps I’m overconfident.”
“Not at all. No one else could be to me what you are,” I said.
“I’ll have to make sure you never forget that.” He kissed me, slowly at first, gradually increasing the intensity and depth till I was so consumed with pleasure that were I the sort of woman who fainted, it would have required several applications of smelling salts to make me sensible enough to tend to the mundane rituals of daily life.
Colin confronted Kristiana as soon as he’d left me. She admitted that she had spoken with Lord Fortescue when she saw him at Beaumont Towers about trouble brewing in Vienna. But she insisted that she did not warn him of any specific threat. Most particularly, not a threat against him. All she’d told him was that the city was like a tinderbox, ready to burst into flame at the slightest provocation.
Lord Fortescue, she said, was hardly interested. He’d commented that the Balkans were headed for disaster and that Britain would keep out of any trouble in the region for as long as possible. This, he said, was a problem for the emperor of Austria and the kaiser to address. Britain was not concerned.
But why, then, had he confided in Robert that he’d been threatened? A dark thought crossed my mind, and I pushed it away before it could fully form. It was impossible to ignore altogether, though. Robert had lied about the gun; could he have invented the conversation in which his mentor told him he’d been threatened? Or, Kristiana might have spoken to Lord Fortescue before he’d received the written warning. Someone had stolen political
