“Wait here,” she said when they stopped outside of Jenna’s room. “I’ll tell her you are here.”
Jenna awoke to her mother’s soft voice calling to her. “Jenna, darling, Stuart is here to see you.”
“Stuart, here?” she managed to ask.
“He is waiting outside your door. Shall I show him in?”
She struggled to sit up, hastily arranging her gown—how had she gotten into her night rail?
“You look fine, dear. The picture of modesty.”
She pulled the covers up to her chin anyway. Her mother walked to the door and gestured Stuart in then quietly left, leaving the door at a respectable opening.
Stuart entered her room and she was struck by how familiar he looked once more. He bore no resemblance to the man who had flounced around London for the past several weeks. He pulled a chair to her bedside and settled down beside her. He took her hand in his. “I owe you an apology, Jenna. And a lengthy explanation.”
“Your father, is he...dead?”
He nodded, his eyes downcast.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He would have killed you without so much as blinking an eye.”
“Why? Why did you deceive me?” She wanted to ask him so much more, but contented herself with the question most pressing.
“I had to. I had to be convincing. I couldn’t chance anyone discovering I wasn’t the irritating fribble everyone took me for.”
“But why the act? Could you not gather the information you needed as yourself?”
“No. Jenna, my father wasn’t the only man I was out to capture. There were many French spies that escaped capture after the war. By donning the disguise, I guaranteed that no one would ever take me seriously. Never think me a threat. You would be amazed at how free a tongue is around a supposed idiot.”
“I feel so foolish,” she said, an embarrassed flush creeping up her neck. “The things I said about you.”
“Don’t feel badly. I was all of those things. I didn’t like myself very much either. I certainly didn’t hold it against others that my act was so successful.”
“Your father really murdered your mother?” Though the viscount all but confessed, she still couldn’t grasp that he’d been so utterly evil.
“Well, that’s one of the reasons I wanted to speak with you. You are the only one who has seen the letters my mother left. He didn’t deny it. In fact he justified it when you confronted him. But I wanted to see what my mother wrote. That is if you don’t mind sharing the letters with me.”
She averted her gaze to her hands. “I lied. Not about the letters, but about possessing irrefutable proof. Obviously since I thought you were the murderer and traitor. I only realized it was your father after I told him of my suspicions,” she murmured. “I misinterpreted your mother’s letter.”
“May I have those letters, Jenna?”
She nodded her head. “They are in Papa’s desk. Ask him for them. Your mother notes in them that she did have proof and that she hid it in London. I would suggest paying her sister a call. I got the distinct impression that she knew more about what happened to her sister than she let on.”
He bent over and kissed her forehead. “I plan to spend a lot more time making up for the years we’ve lost. I’ve a lot of making up to do with Sebastian and Quinn as well. I’ll leave you to rest now. I want you to get well so you can properly jilt me.”
She laughed at the devilish twinkle in his eyes then promptly regretted her action. Pain racked her shoulder and she closed her eyes against it.
“I’ve missed you, Stuart,” she said softly. “The real Stuart.”
“I’ve missed you too, Sprite.”
His green eyes were suspiciously bright as he rose to stand by her bed.
“Sleep now,” he said in a worried voice. “I have some explaining to do to your parents.”
He turned and walked toward the door.
