“Not his money?”

Kit shook his head. “No way in hell. He’s always paid his own way, but just his own way. Someone is bankrolling him for something.”

Jasper poured the wax over the envelope and placed his seal in the center.

I have Some exploSive goSSip to Share when I arrive in London, Gareth had written.

The letter had arrived, but he hadn’t. He also hadn’t returned to his wife in Paris. No one had seen him riding in a coach or aboard a ship. Their friend had vanished. More likely, his body was yet to be found. “Could Gareth and Collins have crossed paths?”

“The pub is near the docks and is attached to a reputable inn. There’s also a post service across the street.” The ice rattled in Kit’s glass. “It’s why I started there.”

Jasper lifted the seal from the envelope. The ram’s head with curved horns that was part of his family crest stared back at him. “The S’s in Gareth’s letter could simply mean he was in a hurry to make the post.”

“Claudette can produce numerous letters, written in battle, where he never made that error,” Kit argued. “He meant Spencer. I’m certain of it.”

I never should have told him anything about Sir Reginald Spencer and why he needed to be stopped. His involvement—his death—lies squarely with me.

“And even if he didn’t, he still discovered something that someone killed him to hide,” Kit said.

The front door opened, and the hall echoed with the chatter and giggling of four young women all rushing to speak at once.

Kit scooped the letter from the desk and slipped it into his coat pocket. “We’ll talk more later.”

“As you wish.” Jasper rose from the desk. Given the noise in the hallway, he could have shouted their plot and not been heard. That was one of the problems with sharing his mother’s home while Ramsbury House was under repair.

The benefit, however, was that the presence of his family helped ease the awkwardness of newlywed life as he and Annabel got better acquainted.

He stopped at the door. His new wife was flanked by his mother and surrounded by his sisters and hers in their colorful day dresses and large-brimmed bonnets, but her wide smile and sparkling eyes made her stand out. Her alto-pitched laugh harmonized with the girls’ shrill giggles.

If Jasper had ever seen her like this near the ferns in a ballroom, he wouldn’t have forgotten it. And, predictably, it faded when she saw him.

“Do it again, Annie. Do it again!”

The family name made her seem younger, but her cheeks flushed in a way that Jasper recognized from experience. The shortened name agitated her.

“Here now.” He waded into the fray to reach Annabel’s side, leaving Kit behind. “Lady Ramsbury, if you please, Miss Pearce.”

Rebecca, Annabel’s next oldest sister, bobbed a quick curtsy, but her eyes flashed. “Yes, your lordship.” Her frown made the end of her sentence pop like a pebble against a window.

“Behave, Rebecca.” Annabel’s words were quiet, but they caught and held her sister’s attention.

Unwilling to let the exchange ruin the gaiety or his quest to learn more, Jasper widened his smile as he looked down at his wife. “What must you do again?”

The laughter had gone from her eyes. “The girls are simply easy to entertain.”

“No,” Johanna said, her giggles erupting again. “Jasper, you should have heard Annie—Lady Ramsbury—in the coach. She perfectly mimics Madame Theodore, right down to the tilt of her pointy chin.”

“I would swear her nose grew as we bounced along the cobbles,” Rachel added, with a wide smile that resembled Annabel’s.

“Don’t swear, Rachel.” Annabel looked past them. “Especially not in front of our visitor. It is a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Yarwood.”

Kit stepped forward, and Jasper held his breath in dreadful anticipation.

“Lady Ramsbury.” Kit’s bow was stiff and shallow, but it was enough to be polite. “May I congratulate you on your wedding?”

“Thank you.” Annabel’s curtsy was quick, and her cheeks flushed cherry red. “That is very kind. I regret that you were not in London and able to attend.” She turned to the younger ladies. “May I present my sisters, Miss Rachel Pearce and Miss Rebecca Pearce?”

“Miss Pearce, Rebecca.” Kit’s smile widened as he shifted his attention to the rest of the party. “Janie. Jo-Jo. It is good to see you again.”

Jasper’s sisters ran squealing to the man they’d known since they were in the nursery. They’d learned to knit so they could send him lopsided scarves and mismatched socks while he was fighting in Egypt—though Jasper had told them woolens and sand were a poor combination.

Annabel’s sisters stayed rooted to the floor. Rachel’s mouth fell open. A quick elbow from the new marchioness reminded her to close it.

“That’s quite enough,” Mother declared, clapping loudly to call her daughters back to proper behavior and a proper distance. Jane and Johanna reluctantly obeyed.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Lady Lambourn.” Kit bowed with the same military precision he’d given Annabel. “Forgive me, but I must be on my way.”

Jasper saw him to the door. Behind them, Mother and Annabel directed the girls upstairs to change clothes for an afternoon of art practice at home.

“Stay aware, Jasper. She is more dangerous—”

“I may not be a soldier, but I’m perfectly capable of looking after my interests.” Jasper put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Given Kit’s wince, it landed harder than he had intended. “Stay focused on the connection, Kit. Not the distraction.”

He closed the door and went to the upstairs drawing room, where his mother preferred to take tea.

“My apologies for the outburst earlier, Lady Lambourn.” Annabel’s quiet words carried into the hallway. “I should not have encouraged the girls with that unkind impersonation.”

“Your behavior had nothing to do with theirs. Jane and Johanna have always been hoydens. They inherited it from the Chitester side of the family.”

Jasper smiled. Cousin Amelia was the epitome of a hoyden, but it was difficult to imagine his mother as anything but prim and proper.

“And your impersonation was flawless.” Humor warmed Mother’s words. “That horrible woman deserves your unkindness and much more.”

Then again, Mother always surprised him. He rapped on the door before entering. “I take it the French terror and Belinda Wallace were at Lady Carmichael’s luncheon?” He chose a seat near enough to Annabel to see her reactions.

“They were, though their remarks were mild thanks to Lady Lambourn’s presence.” She poured him a cup of tea the way he liked it and delivered it. Their fingers brushed, and she snatched hers away as though he were made of thorns.

Was she nervous or frightened of him? What had Spencer told her to gain her involvement in his plot?

“Nonsense,” Mother said as she lifted a biscuit from the neat stack on the tray. “The way you carried yourself reminded everyone of your station without my saying a word or lifting a finger.”

Jasper raised his ridiculously delicate teacup. “To the new Marchioness of Ramsbury.” He didn’t have any justification for the pride that surged through his chest. Annabel had done all the work before she ever agreed to their odd bargain. Still, he was proud to have a wife who could hold her own in Society.

As long as she doesn’t want to see me hang.

“It helped that I’ve known Ellen, Viscountess Carmichael, for years. Her family has an estate near Chilworth. Summers at country dances form friendships almost as well as battle.”

So she hadn’t always avoided dancing. What had changed her mind?