“Why not?” He put his teacup down slowly folding his fingers together as he considered her closely. “What makes you think that you are so beyond help that a powerful man such as myself can do nothing for you?”
Her lips twisted. “You may be powerful, but you are not God. You have no power over life and death.”
He straightened up alertly. “So, this is a matter of life and death. Your life has been threatened, and you are afraid.” He said the words are loud as he was thinking them, to see how she would react.
She shook her head, almost turning down. “If it was just a matter ofmylife, I would have told you what you wanted to know and trusted that you might find justice for my father.”
Not her life then. Someone else’s, he realized, and the puzzle pieces fell into place.
He softened his words in understanding. “Ah, I see. It is about your brother Charles, isn’t it?”
She gave him a sharp look, before her gaze slid away and she stared out of the window.
“You’re not the only one protecting your sibling.”
He nodded slowly. “Indeed.”
They sat in silence for a while as Silas sipped his tea and tried to think of a way past this barrier. He could sympathize with Lady Helena’s wish to protect her brother, but there were bigger matters at hand here. Matters of national security. He could not let his sympathy sway him from his stated path.
“What will it take for you to tell me what I want to know?” He asked.
She shook her head. “I cannot tell you,” she said emphatically.
He blew the breath out of his nose in annoyance. “This matter is much bigger than you think, my lady. You must work with me. Otherwise, I might be forced to look at you as an accessory to Lord Downfield’s murder.”
She gasped, her face paling even more. Then she clenched her teeth, eyes sparking with anger.
“At the end of the day, you do not want to helpme.You simply want to help yourself.”
He clenched his fists. “Your father was an agent of the crown. He was murdered amid a larger plot, the details of which I cannot divulge. Solving his murder is a crucial step in my investigations. Do you think this is about me being selfish? I have a job to do, just like your father did. If that means going through you, I will do what I must.”
Her jaw dropped and she gaped at him disbelievingly. “My father was… an agent of the crown? What does that mean?”
“He was a spy,” Silas said boldly in an effort to shock her into telling the truth.
“Aspy? My father?” She stared at him uncomprehendingly.
He nodded emphatically. “Yes. The late Earl of Downfield worked for the crown for many years.”
He could see the disbelief in her eyes, the way she was trying to reconcile the father she knew with the one he was telling her about.
He felt a certain amount of sympathy for her plight. This could not have been easy for her. If there was something he could have done to protect her, he would have.
And he was taken aback by how much he wished he had protected her.
Helena did not know what to believe. That her father was a spy seemed such a fantastic thing, completely out of the realm of possibility.
She had read books about spies where dashing gentlemen were here today and gone tomorrow, mysterious and cunning.
That was not her father. His eyes had been kind, and he had always had time for Helena and Charlie.
“They said my father died of an illness,” she murmured. “A sudden fever that came from nowhere and took him very quickly. I thought the same myself until I overheard my uncle and my mother talking.”
“What did they say?” Silas asked in his gentle baritone.
“They were talking about my father’s death. My mother said it was too obvious, that someone would suspect something. My uncle replied that they’d had no choice but to do what they did.”
“I see. Then what happened?”
