“You mean home, Cousin?”
It was odd to call Kit that, but it felt good to do so. And now that he was privy to the family secret, Jasper could see the resemblance between his best friend and the uncle he’d known all those years ago.
“Is that what it is?” Kit filled his coffee cup. “My staff hates me, the reading from Lords puts me to sleep, and there are calling cards piling up at the door. And tenants? Jasper, I have tenants.”
Jasper understood the feeling. Sometimes it seemed as though the only real privilege of a title was waiting to get it. Once you had it, the responsibilities fell heavily. Especially the care for those who had no privilege at all.
“You will be an excellent landlord.” He meant it. There was no one better at logical decisions than Kit.
“Thank you,” Kit said. “It will help that I have you to ask.” He drew a deep breath. “But to the matter at hand…”
Finally. Jasper rocked forward and put his elbows on his knees, only to straighten when his body protested.
“Collins is making the rounds to every mine. He goes to the nearest pub, finds the biggest groups, and feeds them money and alcohol while bragging about his new job as a foreman at a new concern. Better pay, better conditions, more opportunities.” Kit shifted in his chair. “The authorities there haven’t given him much thought. Bragging, even lying, isn’t a crime.”
“But murder is,” Jasper said.
“Which is where Claudette has helped. We know for certain where Gareth was, and at what time. We know Collins and some of his cronies crossed his path. We just don’t have a motive.”
Without that, they’d fail to give solace to Claudette and to Gareth’s family.
And if Spencer wasn’t tied to the scheme, they’d likely fail the queen.
The key in the lock turned, and Annabel stepped from her room to his. “We need to talk, right away.”
“Your husband and I are discussing matters not for public knowledge, Lady Ramsbury,” Kit barked. “Kindly leave—”
Annabel squared off to face him. “Do you mean trying to find an embezzler in the palace? Or finding a murderer in Cardiff?”
“Christ, Jasper. Do you ever stop and think?” Kit pushed himself upright. “Isn’t it convenient that you’ve never been set upon by highwaymen until you were traveling with her? And now your attacker was waiting outside a house that has been vacant for months?” He thrust a finger toward Annabel. “Perhaps she told him—”
“Oh yes, perhaps I told them so I could try to kill one of them in the dark. Or so I could have the joy of a dress covered in my husband’s blood while we raced home,” Annabel parried.
“It would be a wise move to thwart an assassination as part of your role—”
“Enough.” Jasper resisted the impulse to tighten the belt on his dressing gown. It was difficult to issue commands while dressed in silk, but perhaps if he acted like he was wearing trousers, he could bluff his way through it. “She is my wife, Kit. I trust her.”
There was a difference between that and disappointment that she suspected him of things far worse than being a traitor.
“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.”
