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Dear God. Matthew held Melisande bent over the low stone parapet in front of the house. The parapet barely came to knee height and would in no way prevent her from falling. Only Matthew’s arm kept her from smashing her brains against the cobblestones far below. Jasper remembered her fear of heights and knew his darling wife must be completely terrified.
“No farther!” Matthew cried. He wore neither hat nor wig, and the rain had darkened and flattened his short reddish-blond hair to his skull. His blue eyes glittered with desperation. “No farther or I drop her over the edge!”
Jasper met Melisande’s beautiful brown eyes. Her hair had come partially down, and long wet strands clung to her cheeks. Her hands clutched at Matthew’s arm, for she had no other purchase. She looked back at him and a horrible thing happened.
She smiled.
Sweet, brave girl. Jasper averted his eyes and stared at Matthew. He raised the pistol in his right hand and held it steady. “Drop her and I’ll blow your goddamned head off.”
Matthew chuckled softly, and Melisande wobbled in his grasp. “Back away, Vale. Do it now.”
“And then what?”
Matthew stared back stonily. “You’ve destroyed me. I have no life left, no future, no hope. I cannot flee to France without my mother, and if I stay, they’ll hang me for selling secrets to the French. My mother will be disgraced; the crown will take all my assets and throw her into the street.”
“Is this suicide, then?”
“And if it is?”
“Let Melisande go,” Jasper said evenly. “She had nothing to do with what’s happened. I’ll put down my pistol if you let her £if ="0go.”
“No!” Melisande cried, but neither man paid her any heed.
“I’ve lost my life,” Matthew said. “Why shouldn’t I destroy your life as you’ve destroyed mine?”
He twisted a bit, and Jasper threw himself at the ridge of the roof. “Don’t! I’ll give you the letter.”
Matthew hesitated. “I’ve looked. You don’t have it.”
“It’s not in my house. I have it hidden elsewhere.” All lies, of course, but Jasper put all the sincerity at his command into his voice. If he could just buy some time and get Melisande off the parapet.
“Do you?” Matthew looked warily hopeful.
“Yes.” Jasper had slowly straddled the roof, and now he brought his other leg over as well, crouching at the top. Melisande and Matthew were only ten feet or so away. “Back away from the edge and I’ll bring it to you.”
“No. We stay here until you bring the letter.”
Matthew sounded reasonable, but he’d already killed one person today. Jasper couldn’t leave him alone with Melisande.
“I’ll bring the letter,” Jasper bargained. He inched forward again. “I’ll give you the letter and forget the whole thing. Just let me have my wife first. She means more to me than any revenge for Spinner’s Falls.”
Matthew started shaking, and Jasper rose in fear. Was the man having some kind of fit?
But dry laughter spilled from Matthew’s throat. “Spinner’s Falls? Oh, God, do you think me the Spinner’s Falls traitor? All this and you don’t even know, do you? I never betrayed us at Spinner’s Falls. It was afterward—after the British army left us to be tortured for two damned weeks—that I sold secrets to the French. Why shouldn’t I? I had my loyalty carved out of my chest.”
“But you shot Hasselthorpe, you must have.”
“Not I, Vale. Someone else shot him.”
“Who?”
“Why would I know? Hasselthorpe obviously knows something about Spinner’s Falls that someone doesn’t want him to tell.”
Jasper blinked raindrops from his eyes. “Then you had nothing to do with—”
“God, Vale,” Matthew whispered, despair in his face. “You’ve destroyed my life. I believed that you were the only one who understood me. Why have you betrayed me? Why?”
And Jasper watched with horror as Matthew raised his pistol and aimed it at Melisande’s head. He was too far away. He’d never get to her in time. Christ. He had no choice. Jasper fired his own pistol and shot Matthew’s hand. He saw Melisande flinch as blood splattered her hair. Saw Matthew drop the pistol with a shout of pain.
