Page 38 of How the Earl Entices

Grace jumped to the other seat to move as far away from Ross as possible. Her gaze bore into him as she fisted her hands in her lap.

“Basingstoke in five miles!”

No new passengers were taken on, and the coach started again with a swaying jerk. Leaving Grace alone with Ross.

“You bastard,” she hissed quietly, aware of the proximity of the coachmen and afraid they might overhear despite the loud rumbling of the wheels. All of her so brimmed with anger and fear that she shook. “You lied to me!”

His gaze pinned hers as he replied calmly, “I told you that I broke the law.”

“I thought you’d cheated at cards, perhaps gotten involved with smugglers or taken bribes— You didn’t tell me that you were wanted for treason!”And murder. She forced herself to breathe past the dread gripping her chest. “Did you do it?”

He paused for a long moment, as if debating how to answer. Or how to most effectively lie. “That would depend on who you asked.”

A strangled laugh fell from her lips. Heaven help her! She’d tied her future hopes to a man wanted for treason and murder, and he possessed the nerve to prevaricate with her. “Let’s say the British, shall we?”

“Then yes. The British would consider it petty treason and espionage.”

Oh, this was not getting any better! “And the French?”

“They would consider it an act of war.”

The blood drained from her face. He wasn’t teasing.Dear God. “What did you do?”

He reached beneath his waistcoat and pulled out the papers.

“I stole these.” He held them up. “And now people on both sides want me dead.”

He placed them on the seat beside her.

She tore her gaze away from him to glance down at the sheets, not daring to touch them. They were like a snake, coiled and ready to bite her. “What are they?”

“Documents that prove the existence of a spy ring within the Court of St James’s.” When she gaped at him, he nodded toward the papers. “Go on. Look at them.”

“I’ve already read them.”

“Then look at them again.”

Knowing he wouldn’t tell her more, she reached for them. Her fingers trembled as she unfolded each sheet.

He leaned toward her across the compartment. “They fit together, each a piece in a puzzle.” He touched the top page. “A list of workers at a textile factory in Le Havre, from which the British ambassador planned on ordering bolts of fabric to redecorate his Parisian townhouse.”

He removed the first sheet from her hand and gestured at the next one.

“A March letter from the ambassador to André Delacroix, thanking him for meeting with him in Le Havre and reminding him that payment needed to be made for the bolts of cloth before he could send on the list of factory workers. On the surface, a typical request regarding a personal matter of no consequence. The embassy sends out dozens of correspondence like this each week, all approved by the ambassador. See there?” He tapped the bottom of the page. “The ambassador’s signature.”

Grace’s gaze darted to the signature, then back to his. A list of workers, a letter from a creditor—howcould these possibly be state secrets?Or was he merely lying to her again?

He took the third sheet by the corner and held it up. “The page from the embassy’s register for December 8th, 1821.” He gestured at a signature toward the bottom. “The ambassador’s signature, verifying that he’d checked in to work that day. Odd thing, though—it doesn’t match the one on the letter. Or any of the letters or documents he’s ever signed. But this one does, only it’s on the register for the same date at an inn called Le Chat Noir.” He held up the last page, one from a hotel register. “In Le Havre.”

“I don’t understand.” What was he trying to prove with all of this? Her confusion warred with distrust, and fear had her fingers trembling so hard that she couldn’t refold the papers. “What does this have to do with treason?”

“Because nothing is as it appears.” He took the pages from her. His eyes never left her face as he watched to gauge her reaction and held up the first list of names. “This list of factory workers contains a hidden list. The first name, second, fourth, eighth…the pattern continues until the last name, each a man working as a secret agent for England inside France.”

Her blood turned to ice, her hands now shaking so hard that she had to twist her fingers in her skirt to hold them still.

“Thisis why England thinks I’m a traitor, because I stole this list of names from the ambassador’s office in the Paris embassy, and then I ran.” He added gravely, “For Le Havre.”

She shuddered and pulled back against the squabs. Good God, he was admitting to treason. She didn’t want any part of this!