“Couldn’t get a good look at him. It would have helped if he’d spoken.”
“He did speak. He cursed, most dreadfully.”
“Hard to tell from a cuss word. I’m sorry you heard that, Harry. But I assume you’ve never heard the word before, and wouldn’t be aware of its meaning.” With a cautious glance left and right, he took her hand and walked out of the stables. “Best we say no more on the subject. I need to get you back to the house.”
Actually, she had discovered the general meaning of the curse word, when she’d read some seventeenth century poetry at the London Library, although it hardly fitted the circumstances.
He strode along, pulling her with him. “Try to convince your parents to return to London.”
She doubted she could move her mother. “You are pulling me off my feet, Gerard.”
“Sorry.” He slowed down a step, but still clasped her hand. She wriggled her fingers and he only firmed his grasp.
She was panting in an effort to keep up with him. “Idemand youtell me what this is all about, and where you went the night we stayed at Foxworth.”
In the moonlight, Gerard’s expression hardened. “The night of Harrison’s death? Why not say it? Do you think I killed him, Harry?”
“No, of course not! I wouldn’t be here with you now if I did!”
Gerard stopped so quickly, she almost fell over her feet. He sighed. “You’re dashed persistent.” His roughened hands slid down her arms, to grasp both her hands. “But a right game girl.”
“You’ll not distract me from my purpose, Gerard,” Harriett said, extremely distracted as he planted a kiss on first one hand and then the other.
He looped her arm through his and they continued at a more moderate pace. “I’ll tell you as much as I can, but it’s getting close to dawn, the farm workers will be up before long.”
Harriett was suddenly aware that the sky had lightened a shade to grey and a misty, lavender glow rose on the horizon as they neared the house. Comforted by his big body close to hers she smothered a yawn.
“Harrison and I worked together,” Gerard said.
Surprised and suddenly very much awake, she jerked away from him. “What sort of work?”
“A year ago, an official from the war office in Whitehall asked Harrison to spy for the army. Harrison was a soldier before he married Aunt Elizabeth. He earned a campaign medal for bravery.”
“Did he?” Harriett could hardly believe it.
“Yes. The Springers.”
“The what?”
“The 28thFoot. He was at the Battle of White Plains. Pendleton makes a perfect spot, placed, as it is so close to Dover. French spies are as thick as thieves along the Channel coast. When Harrison’s rheumatism worsened, he found it painful to walk even with the aid of a stick, and negotiating the steps was too difficult. He was eager to continue but needed help, so he asked me to assist him.
“I was keen to join up and fight, but I couldn’t leave Foxworth, which supplies food for the army, and there’s the matter of an heir.” He paused. “What would happen to Foxworth if I died without issue?”
She firmed her lips on a sigh. It appeared he planned to marry soon. Would it be Leonora?
“I relished a chance to do my bit for the country, and we devised a plan,” he said lowering his voice as they approached the steps leading up to the house. “I would convey the dispatches to Harrison that a British agent left in that brown leather satchel you found. We would take it in turns to travel to London and pass them on to someone there.”
“You went to Whitehall at night?”
“We could hardly do that during the day without telegraphing it. We shared a mistress.”
She widened her eyes. “You and Harrison?”
“In name only,” he said mildly. “At least as far as I was concerned. Can’t vouch for Harrison.”
She scowled. “She was attractive, I suppose.”
“I can’t say I noticed. I was tired by the time I got to London, and wanted to get the business done with, and get some sleep before dawn.”
