Page 67 of The Oxford Guide to Scandal and Lies

“What? No.” The professor shook his head, forcing a laugh. “Donald, have you had too much to drink?”

“No, I heard the word quite clearly,” Craddock said, his expression troubled. “I was pressing your shirts in the next room when Dr. Neville came in with the news. I’ve been trying to tell you all year it’s wrong in your book…” The color drained from his face, leaving him a queasy shade of green.

“It doesn’t really make a difference now,” Leland blustered. “Robert was the stool pigeon. We know that, end of story.” But even as he spoke, the light caught again on his gold molar. Glittering like a lie.

“It was you,” Marion whispered. “You betrayed them all … and pinned it on Uncle Robert?”

“You think that because of one word?” Leland tapped his cheek, scoffing. “Do you know how many men in our unit had these?”

“None that I can think of,” Craddock murmured.

Neville stared at Leland slack-jawed. “You—you convinced me that I’d misheard. That you’d heard die Krone from another source. Did … did you also plant the evidence on Robert?”

Leland dragged a hand through his hair. “Dash it all, this is absurd—”

“You knew the Germans’ nickname for you and saw how to change the story to your advantage,” Marion said, her voice low. “Uncle Robert was the perfect person to be guilty. He was friendless after his expulsion from Oxford. No longer part of your Damocles inner circle, no longer protected. The strong offered up the weak, and your fellow officers were only too happy to close the matter with a simple answer. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Leland stared at her, a muscle quivering in his jaw, and Sidney held his breath. A confession before so many witnesses could reopen the Vosburg incident and tarnish the professor’s reputation well enough. But Tolliver must have deduced the German error that named his killer and tried to tell Ginevra with his dying breath. Leland was a traitor twice over and had more to lose than the others realized.

Behind the door, Ginevra stood with her face buried in her hands, her shoulders taut with bridled emotions that mirrored Sidney’s own. He wanted to drag her into his arms and bury his face in her hair, to tell her it was over—to convince himself it was over—mostly thanks to her unflappable resolve. Despite his best efforts to evade this partnership, it was the first good, solid thing he’d had in a long time. And he was almost ready to admit he didn’t want it to end.

“Move away from the door, Braithwaite,” Leland ordered.

Sidney stilled. Leland had withdrawn a pistol and trained it on him, gesturing him aside. The shiny, mesmerizing bit of metal spelled out two distinct options. If he moved, Leland would escape. If he stayed … well, he’d already told the Rook he didn’t fancy another bullet in his gut.

“Professor,” Sidney said warily. “Everyone here now knows what you did. Escaping this room won’t leave the truth behind.”

A nasty, frightened gleam lit up Leland’s eyes, and Sidney stiffened. Surely the man wasn’t so irrational he’d kill them all to continue hiding his lie … but desperate enough? Very likely. With his hand behind his back, Sidney clenched and unclenched his fingers, readying for an attack. He might only have one chance to disarm him.

But Marion threw herself upon Leland with a banshee’s shriek first.

Chapter Twenty-Three

A shot fired inside the study, and Sidney stumbled backward into the bookcase. He crumpled in slow motion, his head banging a shelf, and sprawled on the rug with his limbs askew in a way that made Ginevra’s heart plummet. She pushed inside, heedless of the screams and shoving around her, and dropped to the floor.

“Sidney!” Gin shook his shoulder, but his eyes remained closed. Blood seeped from a wound at his hairline, dribbling down his temple, and she fumbled inside his coat pocket for one of the omnipresent handkerchiefs to stanch the bleeding. But the quick, pink blossom across the white fabric made her stomach heave.

Marion leaped away from the professor, snarling. “Are you truly mad?”

Leland stared at Sidney wild-eyed, the gun still outstretched in his hand. Marion started to advance again, and he whirled the gun on her. “It doesn’t have to be like this.” He swallowed, then waved her aside with the gun. “Everyone in the corner. Now.”

“Sidney needs a doctor, now,” Gin snapped.

Leland balked as though only just noticing her, and the fear in his eyes deepened. Ginevra did not think he would shoot her, the only daughter of his friend, but she didn’t dare turn her back on him either.

He swallowed and nodded toward the corner. “Everyone else then. Go on.”

Watkins shot him a cold glare and tugged Neville along, the latter blank-faced with shock. Donald hustled past them, and Marion followed with menace in her eyes for Leland.

With the gun still trained on them, the professor backed toward the door. “This has all been very unfortunate.” He glanced down at Sidney, but his gaze shied away. “I—I’m sorry about your uncle, Marion. Truly—”

“You,” she growled, “are a piece of shit.”

Leland blanched, his mouth flapping as though to say something else, but a shout down the hall made him turn and flee out of sight.

“Go after him!” Watkins cried.

Donald sprinted for the door but collided with Lewis Hughes entering the room. He skittered around the American and ran across the drawing room at such a loping pace that Ginevra knew it was useless. Leland would slip away from the party before anyone was the wiser.