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.”
“Someone recently told me that Spencer’s schemes are never far from the truth.” She looked from him to Kit, then back. “He told me you two were plotting upheaval in Wales. Which he is doing.”
“He is tying you to the investment,” Kit said.
Jasper snorted a laugh. “He’s not going to use gunpowder to ruin my reputation.”
Kit rolled his eyes. “You haven’t been to Cardiff in a while, Jasper. Unrest is a mild term. Those men are tired of risking their lives to heat all of England for only shillings a day. Another unsafe hole in the ground will lead to a strike. The queen won’t let them hold the country hostage.”
“And Spencer gets to be the hero,” Jasper said. He’d spun his role in Stratford’s scandal in a similar fashion, benefitting from Drake and Jocelyn Fletcher’s desire for anonymity. “He already has Collins and Christian to make the introductions so he can smooth things over. The queen will give him anything he asks.”
“Like the promotion he’s been chasing,” Annabel added. “He also sees your reputation ruined. You’ll be tied to the mine by gossip, and you will lose your influence in Parliament and with the prime minister.”
Kit uttered the curse that Jasper’s mind couldn’t yet form. No wonder Spencer wanted Annabel dead.
“Graydon’s giving him the money, Jasper. It’s the only way he’d have enough to pay for something this large this quickly.” Kit had the look of a pointer on the trail of a fox. “And Graydon owes him his help in securing the Exchequer position.”
Jasper didn’t want to believe that Charles Melton, the Marquess of Graydon, had any role in this scheme. The man had a reputation for horse racing, yes, but it was a long way from gambling debts to treason. And he was never in Spencer’s company.
Not that anyone had seen—or at least noticed. But the Graydon family also had a box at the theatre. It was near Jasper’s.
