“Why?” Kit demanded.

Jasper held up his hand and ticked off his reasoning with each raised finger. “I told her of the embezzlement but not the murder. The visit to Ramsbury House was a surprise. I was on foot, so it would have been easier to follow me.” He drew a deep breath and raised his pinkie. “I wasn’t the target.”

It haunted him every time he was still. A thin man all in black, a cap pulled low over his eyes, a scarf pulled to his nose as he strode toward Annabel. The knife glinting in the sunlight.

“I apologize, dearest. I didn’t mean for you to find out that way.” He extended his hand and was relieved when she took it.

Despite her paler-than-normal complexion, she wore a predictable frown. “You’re wrong, Jasper. He called for you, not for me.”

“I am not wrong.” The stranger called Lady Ramsbury in his nightmares. “But we can argue over it later.” He indicated the chair nearest him, even though her sitting meant releasing his hand. “What did you need to tell me?”

“I can tie Reginald Spencer to Mr. Collins,” she said. A ghost of a smile flitted across her lips, but her eyes held questions that broke his heart anew. She didn’t doubt her conclusion. She feared what he would do with it.

“How?” Kit snapped. “How do you know Mr. Collins?”

“I don’t know him, exactly.” Her fingers writhed in her gardening apron, twisting the fabric first one way and then the other. “It’s more that I know of him.”

Kit snorted, and Jasper shot him a quelling look before refocusing on Annabel’s story. “Tell me.”

“The last time I was in Spencer’s home, he was there.”

“Before your wedding?” Kit’s sharp question would have been welcome any other time, with any other witness.

Annabel ignored him. Her deep brown eyes focused on Jasper as her color heightened. “Two days after the Haverstocks’ ball.”

“Why that day?” Kit asked. “What did you—”

Annabel’s eyes flashed before she turned to face her inquisitor. “Lord Warwick, you will have your answers if you allow me to finish my explanation without interruption.”

Given their midnight activities after the ball, Jasper could understand Kit’s concern over the timing of her visit. That didn’t keep him from laughing. “Just so. Please continue, my marchioness.”

It wouldn’t hurt to remind Kit that he wasn’t the ranking member of their party. It also wouldn’t hurt—at all—to hold her hand. If nothing else, it would be a show of unity. It would also save her apron.

“I went to tell Spencer that I was through, and he could do his worst.” Her hands stilled, reminding Jasper of her midnight confession. Annabel took confessing very seriously. “He held my father’s debts.”

“The sale of the library satisfied them, and I made certain Patton paid him directly.” Jasper glanced at Kit. This distinction was important for his point. There was no longer a reason for Annabel to keep Spencer’s secrets. It made her a threat. A target. “But back to Collins. He was there?”

Annabel nodded. “He and Sir Reginald were in the library. I heard them when I went in search of his dreadful housekeeper. Collins confessed to a murder, and I believe it was Gareth’s.” She glanced from Jasper to Kit and back again. “He said the man had heard too much of their scheme.”

And now she’s heard too much. Jasper resisted the urge to draw the curtains and move her into a corner of the room. “What else?”

“Collins was here to meet with someone named Christian—”

“The man I met with your father.” A thrill went through him as his instincts were confirmed.

“And there was talk of someone from Cork and something about…powder?”

“Holy God,” Kit breathed from his chair.

Jasper had forgotten he was in the room. “Are you certain, dearest? Was there anything else?”

“Their partnership is not an easy one,” Annabel said. “Collins seems to have as much sway over Spencer as Spencer has over him.”

“Not a position Spencer would enjoy,” Kit murmured.

He also doesn’t like people telling him no. Jasper turned back to Annabel and hoped his fingers weren’t as cold as the rest of him. “Do they know you overheard them?”

“The door stayed closed.” Her brows knitted together. “But there is a chance that his housekeeper saw me listening. She’s a dreadful busybody.”

Jasper fought the urge to laugh, but only until he saw the sparkle in her eye.

“It won’t hold up in court.” Kit prowled the other end of the room. “All she can say is that she heard Spencer call someone Collins while discussing a murder in Wales. Collins is a common enough name that it could have been anyone.”

“He walked with a cane,” Annabel said. “If that helps.”

“Slightly.” Jasper squeezed her fingers. “And though it may not hold up in court, which I’d prefer you not be involved in anyway, it gives us a wedge to put between them. If Collins thought Spencer was about to betray him…”

“And Spencer thought Collins was about to do the same…” Kit dropped into the nearest chair.

They were quiet for a long few moments. “It could work,” Jasper said.

“It has to.” Kit’s jaw was tight. “A new mine with outlandish promises, staffed by men who are already disgruntled, and an Irish bomber who already has half his money?” Blowing up a mine wouldn’t be cheap. “How did Spencer get it?”

“He has new curtains in his drawing room,” Annabel whispered.

“What does that matter?” Kit’s question, though abrupt, was not dismissive.

Jasper was accustomed to Kit’s brusque debating style, but it had chafed at first. He was relieved to see Annabel’s reaction limited to a slight frown and a deep inhale.

“He has several new expenses tied to Elizabeth’s Season. The house here is leased, and Mrs. Spencer is in Bath. Even though she’s in the family home there, her upkeep is not free.” She shifted in her chair to face Kit. “While I lived with the family, the furnishings weren’t sparse, but they weren’t lavish. We ate well enough, but not sumptuously. Elizabeth went out, but he rarely went anywhere but his club.”

Jasper thought back over his social outings, considering where he’d seen Spencer outside of Parliament. The last was when he’d met Gwennie Harris at the latest stage comedy. “He has a box at the theatre.”

Jasper had thought it odd. Spencer always seemed too dour to enjoy dramatics.

“And?” Kit motioned for them to get to their point.

“He’s third.” Jasper smiled as Annabel’s voice chimed with his. A glance her way revealed her impish grin and set his heart racing.

But he needed to focus.

“His role as chaplain doesn’t command a lavish salary, and even before that, his earnings as a clergyman would have been adequate, at best.” Jasper stood, driven by his whirring brain to pace the floor. “His eldest brother, Lord Benton, is parsimonious, even with his own family.” The man never went anywhere, and his daughters were so seldom seen that there were frequent rumors they’d been shuffled off to nunneries. “He’s not going to waste money on his youngest brother’s new drapes.”

“So you believe he’s stealing it from the queen for furniture?” Kit cast him a dubious look. “That seems rather shortsighted. Perhaps he’s just blackmailing someone for the coin.”

“No.”

Annabel’s decisive contradiction drew Jasper up short. “Explain.”