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“Is this how you spend the government’s funds, Stafford?” interrupted Selwyn.

“I presume you are telling this story for a reason,” said Stafford slowly. He didn’t look at Selwyn, but his face had gone hard.

Angelique smiled coolly. “Of course. It was very shocking to me. As this earl was searching for a way to secure his posterity, free of whatever illness had infected his first son, his secretary proposed a plan. It was insupportable that a title so old and illustrious should pass to this child. Naturally one could not stoop to interfering in God’s plan, but perhaps a quiet solution could be found.”

Selwyn’s face was flushed and ominous as he glared at her with murder in his eyes. Angelique knew in her bones then that every word Dixon said about Selwyn was true. This man wouldn’t hesitate to do away with his own child, not to mention an indiscreet former employee. This man had forced his wife to flee into anonymous solitude to save her child, and Angelique could have killed him just for that. She stared back at him as she continued her story.

“The countess did not want her child harmed, but she knew her husband shared no such tenderness and delicacy. The secretary proposed that the countess and her child could simply…disappear. After a short time, the earl could proclaim them dead, and no one would ever know the truth. The countess and her son would be well provided for by the earl, in secret bank accounts, and the earl would be free to proceed with his life. Perhaps marry again, for a lord of his stature must be a very eligible match, even for a duke’s daughter. Perhaps sire other, normal, children. And if any trace of this secretary, who knew the earl’s terrible secret, ever came to light, why, who would believe a secretary over an earl? Particularly if that secretary happened to be under suspicion of stealing a fortune. Why, it would be simple enough to warn certain people that this secretary posed a danger to the Crown. The Crown, of course, would zealously defend itself.”

Nobody spoke. Stafford flipped open the journal with one finger.

“What a bunch of rot.” Selwyn was almost choking on his own words; he might have been breathing fire. “But you said you’ve done what you were ordered to do, yes?”

Stafford looked up at Angelique, then at Selwyn. “Is it rot, sir?” he murmured. “I wonder.”

There was a commotion in the hall, and the door flew open. Nate stood in the doorway, his hair ruffled, his coat askew. He raised his hand and pointed at Angelique. “Arrest that woman, sir!” he demanded, breathing heavily. “She has killed a man.”

“Be silent,” commanded Stafford. “And close the bloody door! Phipps!”

Nate stumbled into the room, pushed by Mr. Phipps behind him. Ian ducked through the door, too, his expression alive and alert. He closed the door as Stafford tried to quiet Nate.

“She cut his throat, without warning,” he was saying loudly. “We agreed that he was to be bound back to New York for trial, sir!” Then he looked at Selwyn, still standing in furious silence, and exclaimed in relief. “Lord Selwyn! Add your voice to mine. You know how this could adversely affect relations between our governments. I demand an explanation on behalf of my President and Congress why your agent killed the man I worked so diligently, and within your requirements, to apprehend!”

“Remember yourself, Avery,” said Selwyn coldly. “You have no authority here.”

“Mr. Avery,” Stafford said. “This is an inconvenient time. I will address your concerns later, if events have not unfolded as planned.”

“Yes, he should be told,” said Angelique. “We should all be told, once and for all. Did you order me to kill that man to conceal Lord Selwyn’s crime?”

Phipps’s jaw dropped open.

Ian started. “What?”

“Madame, we shall discuss this privately.” Stafford’s eyes were cold with warning.

She shook her head. “I think not. Monsieur Avery deserves to know, as he was honest with you about his intentions. Ian and Phipps deserve to know that you have not abused your power to curry favor with Lord Selwyn. And I deserve to know if I have stained my hands with blood not in defense of Britain and the safety of her people, but in defense of one man’s fraud. Did you know Lord Selwyn’s reasons when he told you Jacob Dixon was a danger to the Crown and must be killed?”

Stafford’s gaze drifted to the journal and rested there a moment. Then he looked at Lord Selwyn. “I did not.”

His admission, quietly spoken though it was, crackled in the air like a lightning bolt. “You ordered Stafford to have Dixon killed?” Nate demanded, as though he could hardly believe his ears.

Selwyn’s eyes darted around the room. “I will not discuss government affairs in these circumstances…”

“And you acted on it without proof or even explanation?” Nate asked Stafford, even more incredulously. Without waiting for an answer, he turned on Angelique. “And you simply obeyed? What of a woman’s tender heart?”

She looked at him without expression. “It was my duty.” She turned back to Stafford. “But no more. I am done.”

“Wallace,” said Stafford in a deadly quiet voice. “Escort Madame Martand out.”

“I tender my resignation from this moment on,” Angelique said. “I will go my way, and you shall go yours.”

Stafford hesitated. “My dear, it’s not that simple.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Slowly she slid her knife from its sheath and faced Ian. “Do not try it.”

Ian hesitated. His gaze shot to Stafford.

Nate threw up his hands in alarm. “Christ! There’s no need for that!”