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“I need the truth,” the Duke said in a gentle voice.
“Please, Ellie, you must tell us if anything… untoward occurred,” Lizzy May urged.
Ellie dared to look at her sister. “We kissed.”
“And?” Lizzy May pressed.
“And I was supposed to meet him this morning and we were going to Scotland to be married.”
Lizzy May’s hands flew to her cheeks.
“But he didn’t compromise you?” The Duke studied her face. “Nothing more than a kiss took place?”
“Nothing more, I swear,” Ellie whispered, dropping her gaze.
Nothing more other than the ruin of her heart.
“I will take your word, to be sure, Ellie,” the Duke said, “but keep in mind, a dead husband is preferable to a ruined reputation. The freedoms my mother espoused, she can attest that they’re even greater for a widow.”
“Dead?” Ellie gasped, looking up.
“Matthew.” Lizzy May’s voice held reprimand.
Ellie looked between her sister and the Duke. “Dead?”
The Duke squeezed her shoulder gently. “He’s a traitor.”
The world spun. Darkness raced in from the corners of Ellie’s vision and she crumpled to the floor.
Chapter Twelve
Samuel strode into his attorney’s office on yet another lovely spring morning for what had rapidly become a daily ritual, asking, “Anything new?”
“I’m afraid not, sir,” Mr. Levington replied.
Samuel sank into the chair across the desk from the round gentleman.
“Where does that leave us?”
“Can I bring you anything, sirs?” the clerk who moments ago had accepted Samuel’s outerwear asked from the doorway.
“Mr. Carmichael?”
Samuel shook his head.
Levington waved the young man away.
“That will be all, Tom. Close the door on your way out.”
A faint click behind Samuel spoke to the young man’s obedience. Samuel leaned forward, repeating, “Where does that leave us?”
“All parties have been very generous in sharing their information. Lord Safonhouss seems genuinely interested in discovering the truth, rather than seeking immediate punishment in order to hush the matter.”
“That must be good for us,” Samuel said, somewhat relieved.
If Safonhouss’ ego could be salved, he might come to see that no actual treason had taken place. They could stave off the worst of the charges.
“It’s kept you from the gaol, at least.” Levington sifted through a pile of papers, pulling one free. “The authorities discovered early on that the pages are reaching the French paper via missives addressed in a feminine hand, from Mademoiselle Petit. She made no effort to hide this.” Samuel nodded. Levington’s information wasn’t new. Rather, the attorney seemed to delight in rereading the list of facts they had at the start of each meeting. Previous attempts to curtail the behaviour had proven fruitless, so Samuel went along without interruption, the surest way to move talk forward. “They also discovered that Mademoiselle Petit posted said packages from London and have done what they can to prevent the dispersal of any more pages via the same means.” Each time he heard that point, Samuel couldn’t help but recall Richard’s insistence that he didn’t know where Yvette was or if she’d even gone to France. His brother had been very steadfast to Yvette over the years. Did Richard truly not know where to find her? Could he have prevented more pages from leaving England? “We hired men to watch your brother, but to date, he hasn’t led them to Mademoiselle Petit.” Levington looked up from his list. “Do you wish them to keep watching? The watch and the general have men doing likewise.”
