Page 19 of The Cutthroat Countess

“I’ll rest after tea,” she promised. “And after I’ve heard your story.”

“I thought I was getting yours first.”

“Mine is boring. I want to hear yours.”

He laughed. “I sincerely doubt that boring is the right word for what you’ve gone through, but your wish is my command,” he said, rinsing the pot out with hot water as he collected his thoughts. “I went to see Helen—”

“I knew you would.”

He smiled at her smug look. “She told me where you’d gone, and I imposed on her to send messages to Sin and Crisp, telling both of them where I was going and asking Sin to bring reinforcements—”

“Wasn’t he at the Castleford ball?”

“He was. I daresay I owe Marianne an apology for stealing her husband for the evening.”

“She’ll probably be furious that he didn’t ask her along.”

“Probably. In any event, when I reached Morrison’s cottage, I did a bit of sneaking and snooping and knew that you’d been there, as I saw tracks from those”—he pointed at her boots—“all over the place. . . .”

She lifted a foot and glanced fondly at the hideous, rope-bottomed boot. “Rather distinctive. I suppose I shouldn’t commit any crimes wearing them.”

“No, that’s probably not a good idea for several reasons,” he agreed wryly, filling a plate with buttered bread and bringing it to her.

“Ah, thank you.” She consumed a slice in three bites and then cut him an embarrassed look. “I’m sorry,” she said thickly, “but I’ve not eaten anything since yesterday morning.”

Elliot brought another piece to her raven, who was also looking rather, er, ravenous, and then resumed his seat and his story.

“Angus and I had just enjoyed a joyful reunion in Morrison’s garden when the back door to the cottage opened and two ruffians came out. I immediately recognized one of them as one of the fellows who’d watched your apartment.”

“Had you suspected Gray before then?” she asked.

“No,” he admitted. “And I feel like an idiot that it didn’t even cross my mind.”

“I didn’t suspect him, either,” she said. “Why would we? The man was supposedly my father’s best friend. But do go on with your story.”

Elliot swallowed before admitting this next part. “I shot the man, er, fatally,” he added, just in case she was in any doubt.

Jo lowered the piece of bread she was holding without taking a bite. “I’m sorry, Elliot. I know you’d managed to avoid that all these years on the Continent.”

“Yes, it’s a bit ironic that I killed somebody the same day I resigned my position.”

“What?”

He nodded. “If you were in danger, I knew I’d not be able to adhere to the law, so I scribbled out a rather hasty letter of resignation when I was sending all my other messages in Helen’s office.” He pulled a face. “It is doubly ironic that the man I sent the letter to ended up being the villain of the piece.” He sighed and squarely met her pale gaze. “I’m so sorry that I am the one who brought Gray into your life, Jo. If I’d refused to—”

“He would have found a way to get to me no matter what, Elliot. You know that.”

“Still, I hate that I didn’t see through him sooner.”

“I didn’t know either, until I recognized one of his henchman just like you. Gray had us both fooled.” Jo shook her head. “What sort of life must he have had with this secret hanging over his head all these years?”

“A miserable one. He never married or had children and has given his entire life to his job.” He paused and then added, “Although I have no proof, I’d wager that he’s been fairly honorable in just about every other way.”

“He thinks selling those secrets to the rebels was honorable—or at least that is what he claims—and has no remorse for pinning the blame on my father.”

“That is hard to believe—especially after all your father did for him. As for believing that what he did was just, well, he wouldn’t have been the only one in the government or military to have felt that way at the time. But the fact that he could sacrifice two men to pay for his own sins is unforgivable.”

“Do you think there is enough evidence to convict him?”