He narrowed his eyes. “He came to me for help. He was on the trail of the Spectre, and somebody killed him for it.”
“I hadn’t spoken to Octavian in years. That part of my life is done with,” she said flatly.
“Then why do you have a note written by the Spectre in your desk?”
Her fingers gripped in her lap. “You had no right to search my things.”
“I have every right if you’re a turncoat. If you betrayed Octavian and Marius and caused the deaths of countless men during the war.”
Her expression was scornful. “You have no proof of that.”
“Don’t I?” Gabriel said.
He removed the figurine from his pocket and placed it on the desk. Against the rich mahogany, the biscuit pottery looked crude and cheap. Yet it held some vital secret.
“What is the significance of this?” he said. “What message are you passing onto the Spectre?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen that before in my life.” Her lips curled in derision. “Unless you count those barrows where the hawkers are always trying to sell off their family’s last heirlooms.”
“This is no heirloom.”
Picking up the figurine, he hefted its weight—and smashed it against the desk. Clay crumbled into shards and dust, revealing straw and a small satin purse. He picked up the drawstring bag. It was heavy.
“Give that to me.” Pompeia surged to her feet. “If you don’t, I vow you will regret it.”
He ignored her, emptying the contents into his palm. A fortune of rubies and diamonds glittered in the afternoon light. He dangled the necklace in front of Strathaven.
“How much, would you guess?” he said.
The duke’s brows rose. “Ten thousand, at the very least.”
McLeod whistled under his breath.
Gabriel faced Pompeia. “Why are you giving the Spectre this? What nefarious schemes are the two of you plotting together?”
“It’s none of your sodding business what I do.” Her polished accent slipped a little, revealing an edge of Cockney. “Give the necklace back to me, or you will regret it.”
“You’re going to hang for treason unless you give me a reason to see you spared.”
“A threat from a man. Now there’s something new,” she spat. “You’ll get nothing from me.”
He had half a mind to call her bluff and hand her over to the Crown forthwith. Clearly, she was withholding evidence; she’d been caught red-handed giving goods to an infamous traitor. She had guilt written all over her.
The door suddenly opened, and Gabriel’s jaw tautened as Thea, the duchess, and Mrs. Kent marched in. He glared at Lugo, who brought up the rear.
“Don’t blame Lugo,” Thea said quickly. “We made him let us in.”
Lugo shrugged his massive shoulders, his broad features abashed. “I tried to stop them.”
“He couldn’t very well prevent me from entering a room of my own home, could he?” the duchess said. “Hello there, Lady Blackwood.”
Uncertainty flashed across Pompeia’s features before she said coolly, “Good day, ladies.”
“I thought we agreed that the study wasmy private domain.” Going over to his wife, Strathaven tipped up her chin. “What happens here stays here, remember?”
“Which is why we thought it best to be present,” she replied, “so we don’t miss anything.”
“And one misses all sorts of things when one is eavesdropping from the next room.” Thea came up to Gabriel, peering at the necklace he held. Her eyes rounded. “Is that what you were saying was worth ten thousand pounds?”
