“What are you saying?’ demanded Wrexford.
Pierson leaned forward and brushed the incriminating letters aside. “I’m saying that Taviot isn’t the real traitor.”
CHAPTER 25
No—it cannot be.
Wrexford felt a little light-headed. All at once, the humid heat and smells from the unwashed bodies seemed to have thickened the air, making it hard to breathe. Leaning back, he swallowed hard, aware of the beads of sweat slithering down between his shoulder blades.
His eyes pooled with concern, Griffin nudged his tankard of ale across the table. “Drink,” he said softly.
The earl took a grateful gulp, the sharp, sour taste of the cheap brew loosening the knot in his throat. “Explain yourself, Pierson. Tell me why I can’t believe the evidence that I see clearly with my own eyes.”
“Because,” answered the government operative, “the plot was conceived by a ruthlessly clever fiend who manipulated Taviot into appearing the villain, when in fact he was merely a pawn.”
Yet another sordid game within a game?Pierson lived in a netherworld whose lifeblood was duplicity and deception. To its denizens, morality was a pitifully naïve concept.
“How?” asked Wrexford, though he was aware that the answer might not be anything close to the truth. “And I suggest that you try to be convincing. I’m in no mood to be manipulated by government lies.”
“I only lie when it’s efficient. With you, I know that doing so is more trouble than it’s worth.”
In the uncertain light, Wrexford wasn’t sure whether the operative’s expression was a smirk or a grudging acknowledgment of respect. And he didn’t much care.
“Stubble the clever retorts before I shove your teeth down your gullet,” he responded. “All I want out of your mouth is a credible explanation of what is going on.”
“I have every intention of providing one if you’ll give me a chance.”
Wrexford signaled for Pierson to continue.
“Taviot has always been pressed to keep up appearances. The family coffers have never been as puffed up as his own sense of self-worth,” began Pierson. “He has expensive tastes, and like many aristocrats, he has used his position of power and privilege for financial gain. He was willing to take bribes or sell his support for a business project or a bill in Parliament.”
A half-mocking smile. “I’m sure you know what I mean.”
“Have a care as to what you are implying,” warned the earl softly. “I don’t take kindly to being called a muckworm.”
Wrexford’s ire seemed to amuse Pierson. “No need to challenge me to pistols at dawn, milord. My superior and I are aware that you are one of those rare men whose soul is not for sale.”
“The state ofmysoul isn’t the issue,” snapped Wrexford. “Let us return to Taviot. If the government knew of his flaws, then why did he gain a senior position in the Foreign Office?”
“Taviot possesses intelligence, complemented by cunning. He’s also articulate and a good negotiator, all useful traits for a diplomat,” came the answer. “Let us just say that it was decided that his strengths outweighed his weaknesses.”
“And yet I have proof that says he betrayed our country.”
Pierson heaved a long-suffering sigh. “In fact, you don’t. What you have are coded notes for a wine smuggling scheme—at least, that is what Taviot believed he was writing, for a cut of the wine profits, of course. But in truth, he was humbugged into passing our military secrets to the French, which resulted in the outmaneuvering of General Moore’s army, forcing its bloody retreat to the coast.”
This information answered the question Wrexford had raised with von Münch about why Taviot would risk exposing his betrayal of his country just to share in the profits of a wine smuggling enterprise. Apparently he hadn’t.
And yet it still didn’t feel right.
“Codes within codes?” said Wrexford. “You expect me to believe that balderdash? It’s more ridiculous than one of Ann Radcliffe’s horrid novels!”
“Truth is sometimes stranger than fiction,” responded Pierson.
“Enough word games,” snapped the earl. “If what you say is true, then who is the real culprit?”
Pierson’s supercilious smile wavered for an instant. He hesitated, taking the time to flick an imaginary mote of dust off his coat cuff before replying. “Actually, we are hoping that you might be able to help us uncover the man’s identity.”
“If that’s a jest, it’s not remotely funny.”
