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“Why?” He was barely a few feet away from her, close enough to see the rapid flutter of her pulse.

“Because…” Finally her facade cracked, and her lip trembled. “Because I want you to succeed and right the wrong done to your friend. Because I suspect all is not right with Stafford’s reasons. Because I could not bear to cheat you so grievously, but I feared what Stafford might do to you if I did not follow his orders.”

“Angelique, do you trust me?” he asked quietly. Slowly she nodded. “Enough to put the knife away and not kill him, but wait to see what he has to say?”

Her head bowed. For a moment he wondered if she would do it, but then she laid the knife on the mantel behind her. “Yes,” she whispered, and Nate stepped forward, closing the last space between them and putting his arms around her.

He must decide, here and now, if he trusted her. The wrong choice would mean disaster. Nate closed his eyes and tried not to be influenced by the faint rosemary scent of her hair and the feel of her in his arms. She had fooled other men before…

He took a deep breath and made his choice. “Let’s see what Dixon tells us. Perhaps he can cast some light on this tangled web.”

She raised her head and looked at him warily. “Even after what I told you?”

He rested his forehead against hers. “You’re right—you never lied to me. But Stafford did. He gave me his promise of assistance, and then told you to do the opposite. Too many things about this are suspect, so it’s best to be patient.”

“I will explain,” she whispered. “I swear to you.”

Nate smiled. “I’m counting on it.”

Putting it off seemed to help them both regain their composure. Angelique went downstairs to put away her knife and to fetch another lamp. Nate leaned down to check on Dixon. The cut on his neck was a small thing, barely a scratch. As he inspected it, the man’s eyes fluttered open. Dixon had had a hard day, with bruises on his neck and temple and sitting in his own piss. Nate didn’t want him to die of fright, so he helped the man sit up and gave him a cup of water from the bucket in the corner.

“Where is she?” whispered Dixon after he drank, his eyes roaming the room. “Has she gone?”

“For the moment.”

Dixon sagged in relief, then bolted upright. “We made a bargain, you and I—I help get back your money, and you take me safely out of England.”

“You proposed that bargain, yes.”

Dixon kept looking at the door in apprehension. “But you agree, do you not? All I ask is that you guarantee my safety from her.”

Nate considered the benefits to leaving Dixon in fear of Angelique. It certainly made the man more cooperative. “Here’s your security,” he told Dixon. “Explain your version of the story. I give my word to listen fairly. If I don’t believe you…” He shrugged. “The English already want you dead.”

Dixon caught his breath. “Yes, perhaps that’s it,” he said hopefully. “All you have to do is tell Selwyn I’m dead.”

“Perhaps.” Nate paused. Selwyn was the key, somehow, to whatever had spooked Dixon. “I don’t expect to see him again, to tell him that or anything else.”

This agitated the man anew. He grew still and quiet, only his eyes moving, darting from side to side as he thought. “She can,” he finally said. Nate made a face and held up his hands; maybe, maybe not. “She must,” added Dixon more forcefully. “Isn’t that why she’s here at all?”

“She’s here to kill you,” Nate corrected him—rather calmly, especially given how he’d discovered the fact himself—“not to tell Lord Selwyn lies about your death.”

“But you have to stop her,” the man squealed in alarm. Now that he was caught and frightened, Dixon’s legendary calm and competent manner had vanished.

“I already did. But if you aren’t more forthcoming, I might not do so again.”

The color washed from Dixon’s face. He opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it closed again as Angelique came in with a lamp in each hand. Nate went to close the door behind her, then pulled up two chairs to face Dixon.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Why would Lord Selwyn want you dead?” Nate got right to the point.

Dixon glanced again at Angelique. “I would prefer not to say in front of her. I don’t trust her.”

“I do,” said Nate. He felt Angelique start in surprise, but he kept his eyes on Dixon. “Talk, or take your chances.”

After some fidgeting, Dixon sighed. “Very well. But remember what I said before.” He nodded meaningfully. Nate waved one hand; Dixon meant the part about helping them find the money. At the moment he didn’t care about that. He wanted to know what he was missing about this story. Was Dixon making a desperate bid for escape and lying to him—or was Selwyn? Nate fully expected the first, and was on guard against it. But if it were the second…

A chill of unease slithered over his skin as he glanced at Angelique, her expression composed and remote again. He did trust her. Completely. The men she worked for, however…