Roswell caught her eyes and winked, causing a smile to come to her face. How was it possible that he could always brighten her mood with one simple act?
ChapterSixteen
Roswell stepped into Lord Oxley’s study and he noted the discarded books that were strewn around the room. The viscount was sitting at his desk as he rummaged through the desk drawers, looking visibly upset.
Caleb followed Roswell into the room and closed the door behind him. “Father, we need to talk.”
“Did we not just speak about Anette?” Lord Oxley replied, not bothering to look up.
“We did, but we have a more pressing matter,” Caleb stated.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have time to talk,” Lord Oxley replied as he slammed a drawer shut.
“That wasn’t a request,” Caleb said, his voice growing firm. “It is imperative that we speak to you at once.”
Lord Oxley leaned back in his seat and annoyance had settled on his features. “I don’t think you understand. I misplaced something that is of the utmost importance, and I must find it at once.”
“Why, so you can commit treason?” Caleb asked, his voice taking on an edge.
“My reasons are my own,” Lord Oxley said.
Roswell couldn’t help but notice that Lord Oxley didn’t answer Caleb’s question. What else was he hiding?
Caleb walked over to the desk and leaned over it. “I thought we had come to an understanding,” he said. “We would help you, assuming you were honest with us.”
“I don’t have the luxury of time, Son,” Lord Oxley declared. “I need to act, and quickly. Lives are depending on that.”
“Father—” Caleb started.
Lord Oxley spoke over him. “No, you will listen to me. You don’t know what you are involved in and I need to protect you. That is my duty.”
Caleb lifted his brow. “I know precisely what you are involved in and it will end with you being dead.”
With a stubborn tilt of his chin, Lord Oxley countered, “So be it, as long as I can protect my family.”
Roswell had stood back long enough and he approached the desk. “If you turn over the coordinates of the troops’ locations to the French, you will be branded a traitor and your family will be shunned from high Society.”
Lord Oxley turned towards Roswell. “What am I to do then? Watch them murder my family, one by one, until I comply?”
“We can help you,” Roswell asserted.
“No one can help me,” Lord Oxley shouted, tossing his hands up in the air. “I need you and Caleb to stay far away from me. It is for your own safety.”
Caleb took a step back from the desk. “We can’t do that. If you don’t start working with us, you will have signed your own death warrant.”
“I already have,” Lord Oxley said dejectedly. “I am more afraid of what these men will do to me if I don’t do what they want me to do than the repercussions of my actions.”
Roswell could hear the anguish in Lord Oxley’s voice and knew he believed his words. But they had to get him to turn before it was too late. “We spoke to the man that killed Lord Chester and he has every intention of killing you,” he informed the viscount.
Lord Oxley’s face grew pale. “Who is this man?”
“Who he is does not matter,” Roswell replied. “But he is determined to stop you from sharing the troops’ locations with the French.”
“It doesn’t matter what I do. I am a dead man,” Lord Oxley said, his voice shaky.
Caleb shook his head. “It doesn’t have to end like this. Help us and we can protect you.”
Lord Oxley stared at his son with disbelief on his features. “I told you everything I knew before but nothing changed. Anette’s life is still hanging in the balance.”
