He gritted his teeth. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“I belong here.” Her gaze was steady on his. “Let me help.”
Aware of Pompeia’s scrutiny, he shuffled Thea off to the side, said under his breath, “You can help by turning around and leaving. It’s not safe for you to be here.”
“For you, either. And from what I overheard,”—her hushed tone matched his—“you’re not making much headway. Why don’t you let me speak to her, woman to woman?”
“Because she’s not just a woman. She’s a spy.”
“She’s both. And a wife and mother as well.” Thea touched his sleeve. “Trust me?”
As much as he wanted to argue further, he knew it was too late and that Pompeia was taking everything in. Storing knowledge, information about his relationship with Thea to use against him in the future. In her situation, he’d do the same thing. If he didn’t back down, it would only highlight his vulnerability when it came to Thea—and thereby put her at greater risk.
It took all his willpower to step back. “Do what you will,” he said indifferently.
Thea smiled at him, her presence so lovely that his chest tightened. Outwardly, he showed nothing. They returned to the larger group, and Her Grace waved everyone toward the sitting area, where she promptly plopped herself onto a settee.
She gestured to the cushion beside her. “Come, Lady Blackwood, you are a guest. This business is awkward enough as it is. No use in being even more uncomfortable.”
“Am I a guest, Your Grace?” Pompeia arched an eyebrow.
“Well, yes… unless you are involved in the evil schemes to harm Tremont and his son. If you’re involved with the Spectre, then that’s a different story altogether,” the duchess said. “Then we’ll have to see justice done.”
One could never accuse Strathaven’s lady of being indirect.
“I see.” After a moment, Pompeia crossed over to sit next to her hostess, her amber skirts settling around her.
Everyone else took a seat as well, except Strathaven. He stood behind his wife, his posture rigidly protective. Gabriel sat in the wingchair closest to Pompeia, ready to act if she so much as laid an untoward glance on anyone.
Thea spoke from across the coffee table. “Lady Blackwood,” she said quietly, “why don’t you tell us what is truly going on?”
“Why should I bother?” Pompeia circled the room with a scathing glance. “You’ll twist my words, use them against me. If I say I am innocent, no one will believe me.”
“I would believe you,” Thea said.
“And why would you do that?” the marchioness scoffed.
“Because you have a loving husband and three young boys, which means you have a lot to lose. Why would you sacrifice so much? What could the Spectre possibly offer that was greater than such happiness?”
Gabriel saw the flicker in Pompeia’s eyes. Not anger this time, but… fear? She pinned her lips together, remaining silent.
“Do you know what I think, my lady? No spy on earth could give you more than what you have.” Thea paused. “But they could take it away, couldn’t they?”
Gabriel frowned at the direction of Thea’s hypothesis. Pompeia was no victim; she was cold-blooded and cunning. He remembered the old rumor of how she’d seduced a man—and killed him that same night without blinking. Her marriage to Blackwood had to be a front. A mere cover she’d constructed to protect her from her past. She wasn’t capable of decency and devotion.
“Are you being blackmailed, my lady?” Kent’s voice was as steady and calm as Thea’s. “If you are, extortion is a crime, and we can help you.”
“Help me?” Pompeia’s lips took on a cynical curve. “What could you possibly do? You cannot change the past.”
“No, but we can alter the future—if you tell us the truth.” Her gaze earnest, Thea said, “You were wearing that necklace at your ball. You told me it was given to you by your husband, who valued you above those rubies. What could compel you to give up such a priceless gift, a symbol of his love and regard, something I know you must hold dear?”
Pompeia’s throat worked. “You know nothing.”
“I know you love Lord Blackwood and your three boys. I know you would do anything at all to protect your family.”
Damn… she’sgood, Gabriel thought with a jolt of surprise. With her gentle, natural sincerity, Thea was making more headway than he had with all his threats. He saw Pompeia’s stricken expression—and the moment that the fight drained from her.
“It doesn’t matter now. Nothing does.” Bitterness infused his former colleague’s words. “He didn’t get his payment today, and he’ll carry through with his threat soon enough.”
