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“They told me nothing about Frithgerd, or anything else, really. As I mentioned, they were rarely in England.”
She nodded. She was listening. She looked interested. There was no sign that she meant to cut him off with bored commonplaces. That ought to have made it easy to speak. Yet somehow it didn’t.
“I responded in kind.” He gazed at the mess surrounding him. “Cutting off my nose to spite my face, it seems now.”
Miss Pendleton raised her eyebrows. Was she bewildered or disapproving? He couldn’t tell. He was suddenly afraid to try. Instead, he gestured at the drift of paper that had fallen from the wardrobe. “You could come over whenever you like. The deluge is always here.” That had sounded daft.
“Perhaps tomorrow.”
His heart leapt. “Of course. Anytime you like.”
“You’ll be here?”
“I thought we would work together.” Daniel pictured the two of them sitting side by side, heads bent together over…over desperately boring records and accounts. That part was too bad.
“Of course.” She folded her hands like a child resisting a pile of sweets. “I wouldn’t want to overstep. I understand that your information is confidential.”
Had she wanted to be alone with his documents? The idea made Daniel weirdly jealous.
“Two o’clock then?”
He nodded as she stood.
“I should find Kitty now and finish my errands.”
She turned to go, and he could only follow. That last bit hadn’t gone well. Miss Pendleton seemed to have a different vision of their collaboration. But she’d be back tomorrow. That was the important thing. She’d be here, and he’d find a way to say some of the things that had refused to emerge.
Her gig was fetched, along with her wandering maid. Macklin reappeared for the farewells, and their charming visitor departed. Daniel watched until her carriage was no longer visible and then turned to his houseguest. “Come into the library,” he said. “I have something to tell you.”
The earl’s expression grew more and more amazed as Daniel told him what he’d learned about Miss Pendleton. “So there’s no need to make further inquiries,” he finished.
“If she was telling the truth,” replied Macklin.
“Miss Pendleton is no liar!” The accusation incensed Daniel more than was reasonable.
“She seems sincere,” the older man agreed, his thoughtful expression unaffected by Daniel’s vehemence. “However, the government action against her brother that you describe is unusually harsh, particularly since he was dead. It suggests complications. Or enemies.”
“Enemies,” Daniel repeated.
“If he’d offended powerful people, she might shade the truth, out of fear.”
Daniel remembered Miss Pendleton’s bitter tone when she’d spoken of her questioners.
“The political situation is quite unsettled just now.” Macklin looked grave. “Every radical reformer the government could put their hands on is in jail or transported. A few were hanged. His Majesty’s ministers have not forgotten France and the guillotine. Workers in the new factories are particularly suspect. There are watchers all over the country.”
“Lord Sidmouth’s agents,” replied Daniel, echoing the phrase she’d used during their conversation. It was true that he barely knew Miss Pendleton, but he hated the idea of doubting her.
“Public order is important,” said Macklin.
“It is. But I never liked the idea of sending British troops against our own citizens.”
Macklin shook his head. He pursed his lips, then said, “I can’t withdraw the inquiries I’ve sent out without rousing even more attention.”
“I suppose not.” Daniel moved restlessly.
“The replies might shed light on her brother’s case. Perhaps for her as well, if he told her nothing.”
“She said he didn’t!”
