“I wouldn’t useinvestigating.”
“What would you use?”
“Peeking into.”
Walter made a sound that might have been pain.
“I told you he would look for a weapon,” Amelia said. “I thought if we could find proof he’d been whispering to the crown, or better, if he’d been doing something he shouldn’t while pretending he’s loyal, then Pickering’s second visit might become something other than a threat.”
Thomas’s face didn’t change, but she saw the flicker in his eyes.
“He’ll come back,” Thomas said.
Walter nodded. “Aye. The accounts held too well for a man expecting ruin. Someone told him where to dig, and he found stone instead.”
Amelia, despite everything, glanced at Walter with admiration. “That was very good.”
“I have my moments.”
Thomas crossed to the table and held out his hand.
Walter hesitated only long enough to make it clear he was choosing to surrender the roll, not being relieved of it like a servant caught with stolen bread.
Amelia watched his face as he read. The man had an excellent poker face. When he finished, he set the roll down.
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
The quiet answer seemed to strike him harder than argument would have.
He looked at Walter. “And you?”
“I know now.”
“That was not what I asked.”
“No, my lord.”
For one mad instant Amelia thought Thomas might laugh. Not because any of this was funny, but because Walter’s talent for being technically obedient and spiritually mutinous was one of Ashcombe’s more under appreciated wonders.
Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose. “You will not move against Belmaine without me knowing.”
“No,” Walter said.
“Of course not,” Amelia said.
Thomas looked at her.
She held his gaze, though her heart had begun performing acrobatics with no regard for safety.
“I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you,” she said softly. “I was trying to bring you something useful before I brought you one more worry.”
His expression shifted.
“You think I cannot bear worry?”
“No. I think you bear too much of it alone.”
