Fox took a deep breath. “MacEwen saw him last at the inn with Scruggs, night before last.”
Farnsworth stood. “I’ll just go check with Mac.”
When Farnsworth left,Fox moved up next to Jane.
The quiet around the table chilled her. She’d set something in motion with her foolhardy escape. She’d endangered a child, and Fox, as well as herself.
“I’m sorry, Father,” she said.
His look was long and indecipherable. “I do not like to see you injured. Though we do know more today than we did yesterday.”
She dropped her gaze to the uneaten toast on her plate, then looked up. “What, Father?”
He blinked.
Of course she would have to draw it out of him. “The assassin,” she said. “Are they bringing him in to kill the King?”
Her father exchanged a look with Kincaid.
“Carvelle arrives,” Kincaid said speculatively, “Carvelle working with Scruggs. Or is Carvelle working with John Black to bring in a French assassin? Scruggs is a mere smuggler, not a traitor to England. Done us more than enough good turns through the years.”
His arm brushed hers as he turned to her, this man who had always been a strong, shadowy presence in her father’s life. It was no wonder Father kept him around. His loyalty was unshakable.
“Can you remember anything about this Frenchman, Lady Perpetua? Any words he spoke to you?”
“He…” She inhaled and the sharp pain bit at her. “He said he knew I was a woman. Yet…he didn’t mention it to the others. He was not the one who did this.” She touched her neck. “That was the big man. A smaller man with horrible breath punched me in the back.” She closed her eyes and thought of that moment on the cliff. “The Frenchman said,I am good at what I do. You will feel no pain.”
Kincaid and Father exchanged looks, the air vibrating with their silent communication. Lady Jane frowned down at her plate. Fox’s mouth had firmed, but she read anguish in his features.
“Did you recognize him?” She directed the question to Fox. He looked at Father.
Fox shrugged. “He could have been any number of French torturers.”
“But the French have been defeated,” Perry said.
“Maybe they’re settling old scores, also,” Fox said.
His face went pale. His gaze lifted to Father. He took a deep breath and turned back to her. “But most likely this was not personal for him. Most likely he’d hired himself out to do what he was so good at.”
He knew more than he’d told her. Like always.
“Hired by whom? To assassinate whom?” She looked around at the inscrutable faces.
Lady Jane rested her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers. “Perry, I fear you are mistaken about Sir Richard.”
Lady Jane’s clear blue eyes held hers, her mouth firmed in an angry line.
