Chapter 5
“I would appreciate it if you would sit down while I talk.” Titus rose restlessly to his feet to begin pacing the library. Pru settled herself on the edge of the chaise he had just vacated. “You may ask me any questions you like, but some I might not be able to answer,” he warned.
“That hardly seems fair.”
His jaw tightened. “None of this is fair. And some of what I am about to tell you, I should not be telling you at all,” he added with a frown.
Pru had no idea what Titus wished to reveal to her, but something told her she was not going to like most of it.
Nor did she understand it’s relevance to her, as Titus began to talk of a traitor to the Crown, someone guilty of many betrayals to England, including aiding in Napoleon’s escape from Elba earlier this year and the battles that followed.
She felt even more puzzled than she had before he began talking. “What does that have to do our carriage accident?”
“I will get to that in a moment,” Titus bit out. “The Sinners, as you may or may not have guessed, are all agents for the Crown, and the Duke of Stonewell is our spymaster.”
Her brows rose; she had not known. “Is this one of the things you should not be telling me?”
“Yes.”
Pru nodded. “You have my word I shall never reveal that knowledge to another living soul.”
The viscount’s smile was bleak. “I advise you do not make any rash promises until I have finished speaking.”
She eyed him warily. “Very well.”
At any other time, Titus might have found Pru’s agreement amusing, even arousing, following so quickly after their recent intimacies. But he could find nothing in the least amusing about any of their present situation.
He resumed his pacing as he gathered his thoughts. “The investigation had narrowed down to eight suspects, and as there are—were eight Sinners,” he corrected himself gruffly, “we were tasked with singling out and proving this traitor’s guilt.”
She nodded. “That seems logical.”
It had, at the time. Several months later, with Priscilla Germaine and Worthington both dead, that logic seemed severely flawed, primarily in the fact they had not taken into account that whoever the traitor was would become suspicious of The Sinners’ behavior, realize the net was closing in on them, and subsequently attempt to eliminate some of them as a diversion. In Worthington’s case, they had succeeded.
But Titus was getting ahead of himself.
He drew in a deep breath through his nose before continuing. “These eight suspects were all women of Society. Ones who were able to meet with and pass information on to their contact during the usual melee of Society functions, in this case specifically at six balls given throughout this past Season.”
Pru realized, as her stomach began to churn, that she had been justified in her earlier unease regarding the things Titus wished to tell her. She was still unsure as to why, only knew this was somehow connected to those feelings of danger that had entered her own and Cilla’s life at the same time Romney and Worthington had.
“Five of these women were Lady Beatrix Hanwell, Lady Isabella Aston, Miss Alys Newcomb, Lady Heather Smythe, Lady Jocelyn Forbes—”
“Jocey would never betray her country!” Pru defended indignantly, only to frown as another thought occurred to her. “The ladies you have named are now married to five of The Sinners.”
“Yes.”
“The ladies they were each to investigate?”
“Yes.”
“Because they have all been proven innocent?”
“Yes.”
“And Worthington is dead.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes widened. “Because he was investigating my sister as being the traitor?”
A nerve pulsed in Romney’s clenched jaw. “No, I was investigating your sister.”
“Then…” Pru was finding it difficult to think straight with so much information bombarding her at once. Only one thing seemed of relevance. “Does that mean Worthington was investigating me?”
“Yes.”
Her mouth and lips had gone dry. “And the accident?”
“Was not an accident.” Romney confirmed her suspicion. “Someone deliberately tried to injure or kill us.”
Pru gave a dazed shake of her head. “But…but there was a fault with the wheel. And no one could have predicted the carriage would catch fire.”
“No, no one could have predicted that,” Titus acknowledged heavily. “But the shots fired at me when I managed to escape from the carriage were most certainly deliberate. They missed,” he added as Pru continued to stare at him. “They also missed Wessex and instead hit Lady Jocelyn on the evening they attended the theater together. Five weeks ago,” he added pointedly.
Pru rose abruptly to her feet, too agitated to remain seated any longer. “Jocey was not ill but had been shot…?” She had visited Jocey several times, believing her bed-ridden friend to be suffering from a severe cold or influenza.
He nodded. “Wessex was beside himself, believed she would die of the wound. I have never seen him so agitated,” he recalled with a frown. “He has sworn to kill the person who almost took Lady Jocelyn from him.”
“This is… It is all so incredulous.” Pru raised her hands to where her temples had begun to throb. “I truly believed Jocey had the influenza.”
“As you were meant to.”
Pru waited until her head started to clear a little, and with it, the ability to understand exactly what had happened. “Cilla died because you wrongly suspected her of treason?”
Romney’s eyes narrowed at the accusation. “She died because the real traitor became aware of our investigations and decided to add mayhem and confusion to the mix. Worthington died too,” he reminded her huskily.
Pru was well aware of that, and she had already voiced her regrets over that gentleman’s death. But Cilla… Cilla had been an innocent, and the other half of herself. The two of them had shared the womb, been inseparable during their childhoods. As adults, they were never far from each other’s company, and had giggled and flirted with and over the same handsome gentlemen of the ton.
Latterly, two of those gentlemen had been Worthington and Romney.
Gentlemen Pru now knew not to have been showing a romantic interest in the two of them at all, but investigating them both under suspicion of treason.
And she had just allowed… Had let Romney…
“If it is any consolation, I no longer suspect or believe you to be guilty of treason,” he added softly. “In fact, I have had some of my own men in place protecting you day and night since the accident happened.”
“I… That’s…” Her eyes narrowed. “Your words imply someone else does still believe me to be a traitor to my country and the Crown?”
Romney shifted uncomfortably. “I have not discussed the matter with the other Sinners, but I know Stonewell still has his doubts, yes.”
“Damn the Duke of Stonewell. And damn you,” she added vehemently. “God, how I hate you all!”
Romney nodded acceptance of the emotion. “I suspected you might.”
Pru eyed him scornfully. “Is that the reason you pleasured me before telling me these things?”
A nerve pulsed in his clenched and scarred cheek. “As I recall, I inflicted physical pain in order to snap you out of the emotional self-pity you had lapsed into—”
“Self—! How dare you! How dare you, you…you unfeeling bastard!” Pru rushed across the room toward him, her hands raised and her fingers curled into claws.
Titus easily caught hold of Pru’s wrists to stop her nails from making contact with his already scarred flesh. His fingers tightened about those slender bones as he held her at bay. “Whatever you feel toward me now, I am not your enemy.”
“Oh, but you are,” she scorned. “You and all of your Sinners friends have become exactly that.” She gave a disgusted shake of her head. “I knew it. I knew that you and Worthington were somehow responsible for what happened to us.”
“Pru—”
Her glare silenced him. “If you and Worthington had not singled Cilla and me out as being suspects in your investigation, if we had not been traveling in the carriage with you that evening, Cilla would still be alive.”
Titus had no defense against that accusation, because he knew it to be the truth. Admittedly, neither he nor any of the other Sinners had been involved in the initial investigation in which it was decided Priscilla and Prudence Germaine were two of the likely suspects, but neither had any of them questioned those findings.
And perhaps they should have. Perhaps that was where the weakness in this investigation lay all along. He needed to discuss that possibility with Stonewell.
“You said eight ladies,” Pru spoke abruptly. “Five have been cleared, one is now dead, I know I am not guilty, so surely that must mean it is the eighth lady who is guilty. Who, in all probability, is responsible for Cilla’s and Worthington’s deaths and Jocey being shot?” She narrowed her gaze on him.
Yet another conclusion Titus should have known the intelligent Pru would make.
“Who is she?”
And demand to know the answer to.
He released her to step back. “I am not at liberty—”
“You will tell me.” Pru reached out to grasp his sleeve-covered arm. “You will tell me now.”
Titus stared down at her. The color had come back into Pru’s cheeks, her eyes glittered with angry determination, and her stubborn little chin was raised in challenge.
She had never looked more beautiful to him.
Well, apart from that spectacular view of her bared bottom cheeks earlier as she bent over the table. And the even lovelier sight of how red those cheeks had become after he had spanked them.
A totally inappropriate thought for him to be having at this moment. Pru had no interest in his desire, was demanding an answer to something of much more importance to her. “I cannot allow you to—”
“I might have allowed you to dominate me physically a short time ago, but in this, I will not be gainsaid.” Her chin rose. “You will tell me this woman’s name.”
A nerve twitched in Titus’s tightly clenched jaw. “She may be as innocent as you are.”
“Her name.”
He scowled. “Damn you for your stubbornness, Pru!”
Her smile was humorless. “Considering the contrariness of your own nature, no doubt it is one of the things you most admire about me.”
There was no point in denying it. Pru’s beauty and intelligence were two of the things Titus had first been drawn to, but her stubborn determination was a very close third. It made her character so different from her more amiable sister and added a certain whimsical charm.
Titus’s position as Viscount Romney, heir to his father, the Earl of Chelmsford, meant that, apart from the other Sinners, any decision he made was rarely if ever questioned. Least of all by a woman. Pru felt no such compunction and had been a constant challenge to him since they had deepened their acquaintance three months ago.
Nevertheless… “First I will have your promise that you will not go near nor confront this lady with any accusations.” After today, Titus knew Pru’s well-being had become of even more importance to him. Quite what that meant, he would decide later. At this moment, it was her continued safety he was most concerned with. “Well?”
She gave a dismissive snort. “I am not lying prostrate across that table with my skirts raised and my bottom bared now, Romney.”
More’s the pity. “That can easily be arranged,” he warned.
She gave him a mocking smile. “I would not advise you to try it, because no matter what you might think to the contrary, I did allow it, Titus.”
“And feel better for it?”
“I am no longer quite so removed from my environment as I was,” she conceded. “But the next time that it happens—if it happens,” she derided as he raised dark brows, “it will again be my decision to make and not your own.”
Was it wrong of Titus to feel heartened, even aroused, by that statement? Whether it was or not, there was no denying his cock was once again standing at attention inside his pantaloons in anticipation of the event.
“Her name, Titus.” Pru was determined she would know the whole truth now. She had every intention of ensuring she was involved in the capture of this traitor.
Romney breathed in deeply before exhaling just as strongly. “The eighth lady is the Duchess of Stonewell.”
Pru released him to stumble back a step. Only his hurried grasp of her wrist prevented her from falling.
Angelique Sinclair, the Duchess of Stonewell, was that eighth lady suspected and in all probability guilty of committing treason?
Pru did now know the beautiful, red-haired duchess particularly well, that lady being a few years older than her and married for several years to the arrogant and disdainful Duke of Stonewell. But Pru had always found Angelique Sinclair to be a vivacious and sociable lady whenever the two of them had chanced to meet socially.
And none of those things, the beauty, being married to a duke, or Angelique Sinclair’s vivacity of nature, precluded the other woman from also being a traitor to the Crown.
Pru also found it suspect that the lovely Angelique was the wife of the same gentleman whom Romney said was in charge of this investigation.
Pru shook off Romney’s grasp on her arm. “You will see that lady is arrested and questioned immediately.”
Titus had known this would be Pru’s response, as clearly as he knew he could not do as she asked.
Stonewell was one of his closest friends, and he had known Angelique too for the three years of their marriage. He was often invited to dine with the married couple, as were the other Sinners. To openly accuse Nik’s wife of treason would be to cause a serious rift in that friendship.
One that might never heal.
Just as not pursuing that lady’s guilt or innocence might result in an irretrievable rift between himself and Pru, something Titus also refused to allow to happen now that they were at least speaking to each other again.
“Not yet,” he dismissed.
“Why not?”
“I have it in mind to reopen the initial investigation,” he explained, “in which it was concluded that one of these eight ladies was guilty, before taking such a drastic step as openly accusing anyone.”
Pru’s brows lifted. “You believe there might have been a mistake?”
“I am saying it is a possibility,” he replied guardedly.
Titus believed any mistake that could have been made in that initial investigation might have been deliberate as a means of diverting the attention away from the real traitor. Until he was sure, either way, he intended to proceed with caution.
He intended to ensure Pru did the same.
By physically restraining her, if necessary.