Roswell walked over to the window and saw Mr. Barnard walking away from their townhouse. Good riddance. With any luck, he’d scared the Frenchman off and he wouldn’t come anywhere near him or his sister.
Why did it seem so inconceivable to him that Mr. Barnard worked with Wellington, or his brother, for that matter? And why did the Frenchman show up now to visit Octavia when they were trying to root out the truth about who Lord Chester was selling secrets to? It just seemed that Mr. Barnard’s presence was too much of a coincidence to simply ignore.
Octavia cleared her throat, and he could hear the irritation in her voice. “Do you want to explain why you were so rude to our guest?”
“I do not trust that man,” he replied.
“He works with Fredrick.”
“So he says,” Roswell said as he stepped away from the window, “but I have my doubts.” He didn’t want to explain to his sister that he had made it a point to learn when people were lying or dealing in half-truths. It was something that came in handy in his profession. And it was evident that Mr. Barnard had something to hide.
Octavia looked at him as if he were mad. “For what purpose would Mr. Barnard lie to us?”
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”
“You are impossible, Roswell,” Octavia stated. “Mr. Barnard is a charming gentleman and he was doing the honorable thing by visiting us.”
“I would prefer it if you would turn him away if he comes to call again,” Roswell said.
Octavia pursed her lips before saying, “No.”
Roswell anticipated her refusal but he needed to find the right words to sway her. “You must trust me on this—”
“Trust you?” Octavia asked, speaking over him. “You took an immediate dislike to Mr. Barnard and I want to know why.”
“He is French. That is all I need to know about him.”
Octavia placed a hand up to her forehead. “You are impossible, Roswell. Not every Frenchman wants to kill us.”
“The majority do,” Roswell responded.
“Mr. Barnard works with Wellington,” Octavia pointed out. “Should we not give him the benefit of the doubt, especially since he claims to know Fredrick?”
Roswell took a step towards her. “Mr. Barnard said that Fredrick is the sentimental type when he is drunk, but we both know that our brother doesn’t drink because of his headaches.”
“Mr. Barnard could have misspoken or maybe Fredrick did start drinking again,” Octavia remarked. “We don’t know. We haven’t heard from Fredrick in years.”
“You are too trusting.”
“And you are too cynical.”
Now they were just going in circles and nothing was being resolved. How could he make his sister understand that not everyone had honorable intentions?
Octavia returned to her seat and reached for her teacup. “I wonder if this has more to do with me than Mr. Barnard.”
“No, it has everything to do with Mr. Barnard,” he asserted.
“Perhaps you don’t want me to seriously entertain suitors this Season.”
His sister wasn’t wrong. There was some truth to that, but that wasn’t the issue right now. “You can’t be seriously considering Mr. Barnard as a suitor.”
“What if I did?”
Roswell sat down next to her to plead his point. “Be reasonable, Octavia.”
“I think it isyouthat needs to be reasonable,” Octavia argued. “You were terribly rude to our guest.”
“That is because I do not believe he is who he says he is.”
