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Wellington turned to face him. “And you are sure you can take this woman at her word?”
Bertram felt an unaccountable surge of rage on Letty’s behalf. “Of course I can take her at her word. She is an honorable woman.”
Wellington gave him a dry smile. “She’s a spy.”
“The two are not mutually exclusive.”
Wellington snorted even as he looked away from Bertram. “I see that you are very taken with her. Is this going to be an issue?”
“Issue? I’m afraid I do not know what you mean.”
Wellington sighed audibly. “If she turns out to be a traitor—”
“She cannot be a traitor to us as she is not even an Englishwoman.”
“Her mother is.”
Bertram’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “How do you know that?”
It was Wellington’s turn to cock an eyebrow. “Did you think I would not look into this woman once you told me of her? After everything she has done? We like to know who our enemies are.”
Bertram looked away. “She is no enemy of ours.” He said it quietly.
“So you say. I am afraid to say your judgement might be compromised in this instance.”
Bertram narrowed his eyes at the Duke as anger roiled in his belly. His hands clawed as he dug his nails into the arms of his chair in an effort not to leap at the Duke and strangle him. “My judgement remains as unimpaired as ever. You have not even met her.”
Wellington nodded. “You are right. We should remedy that soon.”
Bertram’s heart sped up. “You wish to meet Miss Strange?”
The Duke leaned back, surveying Bertram critically, his lips pursed. “Of course. We must find out what the French know.”
Frowning, Bertram sat forward, “Do you intend to conduct an interrogation?”
“You say she is on our side so I expect that she’ll be quite happy to answer my questions.”
Heaving a deep breath, Bertram got to his feet, pacing up and down in the space between his chair and the window, thinking hard. “I will not have her harmed.”
Wellington snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous, Thybaut. We aren’t a bunch of savages. But don’t tell me she has gotten so far under your skin that you would speak to your commander in such a manner.” The Duke’s tone was mild but Bertram had no illusions about the gravity of the rebuke.
“My apologies. One gets…agitated. Several things have transpired since last we spoke and it is difficult to maintain one’s equilibrium in the circumstances.”
“Apology accepted.”
There was a knock on the door and Bertram quickly bid them enter, relieved to have a respite in which he could think. He doubted that Wellington had come all this way simply to interrogate Letty. He must have other motives for leaving the garrison.
As Jenson laid out several platters smoking with roasted pork and Letty-baked bread, Bertram tried to think what those motives might be. Even if the plotters were suspected to be situated in Folkestone, Wellington would not come all the way unless he knew who they were and it would have been difficult to have them arrested without some sort of higher authority.
Once Jenson had left and shut the door behind him, Bertram turned to the other Duke. “Tell me, do you know the identities of these plotters?”
Wellington paused as he was about to pick up a bun, leaning back against his seat. “Not by name, no. But we have some intelligence that noblemen are involved.”
“Noblemen from Folkestone?”
“Yes. Very likely men you know quite well.”
“Have you discovered why they would want to kill me?”
