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Sam narrowed his eyes. “Were you?”
“Yes. In fact, I did.”
Sam stared. “What?”
“I quietly paid the debt to Clemmons’s estate.” Vale glanced away as if embarrassed. His voice was gruff. “Least I could do, don’t you know, under the circumstances. Doubt any of the men you talked to knew that, but you can contact my solicitors if you wish. I’ve got the papers to prove it.”
Sam closed his eyes. His head was pounding, and he felt like an idiot.
“Who else had reason to betray the company of soldiers besides Jasper?” Lady Emeline asked quietly. “Because I’ve known Jasper all my life, and I cannot believe he would do something that would end in Reynaud’s death.”
Viscount Vale grinned. “Thank you, Emeline, although I notice you don’t acquit me of treason.”
She merely shrugged.
“But she’s right.” Vale sobered. “I didn’t betray the regiment, Hartley.”
Sam stared at the aristocrat. He didn’t want to believe him; he’d come all the way to England because he’d been looking for answers. He’d hoped Vale would be the key to everything. That he could finally put Spinner’s Falls to rest. But any motive for Vale to have betrayed the regiment seemed to have evaporated. Besides, he knew now in his gut that Vale wasn’t the traitor. And if he hadn’t had his gut telling him Vale was innocent, there was Lady Emeline. She trusted the man, damn him.
Lady Emeline got to her feet and shook out her skirts. “I believe that means someone else is the traitor, doesn’t it?”
“YOU SHOULD RETURN to the festivities,” Emeline told Jasper. “Rebecca and I are more than ready to return home.”
She didn’t include Samuel in her words, but he was the one she was most worried about. He no longer wavered as he stood, but his face was still pale and shining with sweat.
But she made sure not to look at him as she addressed Jasper. She knew that Samuel wouldn’t welcome her solicitation in front of another man. “I don’t think it wise to go through the ballroom again—Rebecca has had enough excitement for the night. I’ll send word to Tante Cristelle to meet us in front of the house, and we can walk around by the mews.”
“Non.”
Emeline jumped and whirled at the single word. Her nerves were obviously more ragged than she’d thought.
Tante Cristelle stepped from the shadows near the doors. “Inside they whisper of two gentlemen arguing.” She scowled at the gentlemen, though only Jasper had the grace to look ashamed. “Therefore, I shall remain and put the gossip to rest. I shall have a footman summon the carriage to the mews.”
“But how will you return home?” Emeline asked.
Tante gave an expressive shrug. “I have many of the friends, do I not? It will not be so hard to find a carriage.” She darted a glance at Rebecca, who had begun to look wilted. “You go and put all right at home, ma petite.”
Emeline smiled in weary gratitude at the old lady. “Thank you, Tante.”
Tante Cristelle snorted. “It is you who have the harder part, I think, to manage these two bulls.” She nodded and slipped back inside the ballroom.
Emeline squared her shoulders and turned back to her bulls.
“I’ll escort you to your carriage.” Jasper was already holding out an arm for her, and she took it, chiding herself not to feel hurt that Samuel did not do the same.
She was quiet as Jasper led her down the Westerton garden and out into the mews, conscious all the while that Samuel trailed her with his sister. As they made a streetlamp on the side road, she glanced up at Jasper. “Thank you. Make sure you don’t stay out too late.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jasper grinned down at her. “I’ll be sure to be tucked into bed before midnight. Wouldn’t want to turn into a pumpkin.”
Emeline wrinkled her nose in exasperation at Jasper’s careless reply. That only made him smile wider. The carriage came rattling around the corner.
Emeline said hastily, “I’d like you and the Hartleys to come to tea tomorrow at my house so we can discuss all of this further.” It wasn’t a very graceful invitation; she didn’t even look at Samuel or Rebecca, though they must have heard.
Jasper quirked an eyebrow at her. He might act comical at times, but that didn’t mean he took orders from her. For a moment, she held her breath.
Then he smiled again. “Of course. Sleep well, my sweet.”
He leaned down and brushed his lips over her temple. Jasper had kissed her like this dozens, perhaps hundreds of times, in the years they’d known each other. But this time, Emeline was conscious that Samuel was standing somewhere behind her in the dark, watching. She felt strangely flustered, which was nonsense. She owed the colonial nothing—less than nothing since it appeared that Jasper had been his target all along.
