Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] (19 page)

She swallowed. “Because of our prior relationship.”

“Because we were childhood acquaintances?” he asked, unable to keep the acid from his tone. “Because I saved your life?”

She did not flinch again. In fact, her countenance changed, but not with sadness or regret. This time anger flashed in her eyes.

“Yes, Tristan, that is exactly right.” Her tone was just as harsh as his own. “Are you angry I used our prior involvement to further my investigation?”

“Yes, damn it!” he said, finally letting his emotions show as he slammed a hand against the
narrow mantel above the fire. He wanted to rip the room apart. To show her exactly how furious he was with her, with the situation, with himself.

She gripped her hands into fists as she jumped to her feet. “Well, so am I! I’m angry you forced this course of action. I hate that you put me in this situation. That you turned against everything you were, everything I believe in. And for what?”

Without realizing it, Tristan found himself moving toward her. But this time he could find no control to keep from touching her. The moment he caught her arms, drew her against his chest, though, his anger faded. Despite everything, her warmth was the same. And so was his reaction. She had used her body against him, but he still longed to kiss her until she begged for more.

“I didn’t!” he insisted as he released her. Touching her was too intense. It burned him, made him want things he knew now he would never have again. “I didn’t.”

She backed away, her face pale. She smoothed her fingertips over her upper arms with an almost imperceptible shiver.

“No?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Then how did you end up with the stolen painting in your home? Explain that.”

He drew in a breath, watching her carefully. He had tried to tell Isley the truth and the man had not believed him. But Meredith had been in his bed. She admitted part of why she was assigned
his case was because she
did
know him. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could convince her of the truth.

But that would mean opening up to her. Telling her something about his heart. He was wary to share that with a woman who’d already proven herself a liar. How could he know she wouldn’t use his confession against him?

He couldn’t. He would just have to go on faith this time. One last time. At this point, he had nothing to lose.

He closed his eyes as he expelled a long breath to calm his suddenly racing heart.

“It all started with the death of my brother.”

T
ristan drew another deep breath. He hadn’t realized it would be so difficult to confess the truth. Meredith knew him well enough that he couldn’t gloss over the details. With her, it was all or nothing.

“I’m sure you know I didn’t want Edmund to join up with the army and go to the Continent to fight.” Tristan couldn’t help but think of the arguments he’d had with his brother. Edmund didn’t want to live an idle life. Tristan hadn’t wanted to lose him. Their screaming could have brought down the house.

She nodded. “You wanted to protect him.”

“Yes. I somehow forgot he was a grown man,
capable of making his own decisions. We had a terrible row before he left and almost came to blows. I’ve always regretted we left things that way.”

He gathered his emotions before he continued, and Meredith waited. When he looked at her, she regarded him with an appraising glance. Nothing on her face told him if what he said moved her.

“When we were informed of Edmund’s death, my world shattered.” He flinched as memories assailed him. “I wanted to shut myself away from everyone. I wanted to drink myself into oblivion, but I had responsibilities. Ones that had been on my shoulders since my father died. My mother was destroyed. My sisters were brokenhearted. I had to tend to their needs. Instead of grieving, I turned to anger.” He looked at the fire. Watched it crackle. “Anger I can control. Anger I can master.”

She nodded as if she understood. Thinking about her childhood, he thought she actually might. She, too, had been helpless to control her fate. That must have played a part in her decision to begin a dangerous life of service to the King.

Memories took over again. Images and feelings assailed him. Ones he had pushed aside for so long. Now that he was with someone who knew him and knew some of his desperate secrets, they threatened to overwhelm him.

“I demanded information about my brother’s death,” he continued, clenching his fists. “I called in favors, wrote to every officer I could think of. I
even went to the War Department offices and waited for two hours to speak to anyone who granted me entrance to his office. No one could tell me anything except that Edmund’s regiment was attacked, ambushed. But there was something about the tone, the looks they gave me. I knew there was more to the story.”

Meredith gave a small, sad smile. “And, of course, you could not let it go.”

“Not until I knew the truth. If only to satisfy my need to understand why my brother was taken from us.” He flexed his fingers. “Finally, one of his superior officers was able to see me. He admitted the assault was orchestrated. The French soldiers responsible couldn’t have known their regiment’s position without secret information. The only way they would have come by it was through treason.”

He spat out the last word. The word he hated above all others. The word now associated with his own name. Or would be if he couldn’t convince Meredith to help him. Believe in him.

She drew back but didn’t seem surprised. Of course she would know. The information he had sought for months had probably been easily at her fingertips when she began her investigation. It was part of the damning evidence she collected against him. Probably it led her to believe he was an enraged man, seeking revenge against the government that had failed to protect his brother.

That was, after all, how he’d convinced Devlin to accept him.

She cocked her head. “And?”

He realized his musings had gone on too long. “I was enraged. Livid. I wanted to find the man responsible for my brother’s death and rip his heart out with my bare hands. Instead, I channeled my anger into an investigation of potential suspects. Again and again my resources led me to Augustine Devlin. I considered simply killing him, but I found out Devlin wasn’t the leader of his group, only the gateway to the man in charge. And that is the man I want.”

“Want for what?” she whispered, eyes widening.

He ignored her question. “I befriended Devlin, provided him with capital for some of his legitimate ventures, introduced him to prominent people. I gained his trust, then approached him about his group. Of course, he was wary at first. But slowly he allowed me further into his circle. He told me some of his secrets and asked favors of me…tests, he called them.”

Her face twisted in horror, and he realized she was thinking of the atrocities Devlin and his associates had committed.

“I sabotaged his schemes whenever I could. And I have the information on the plans he involved me in.”

She opened her mouth, but he interrupted with a wave of his hand. He wasn’t ready for questions
yet. For her demands that he turn over evidence. Not until she heard the rest of his story.

“It went like that for a year. Slowly, he let me in further and further, but he wouldn’t reveal who led his group. But when he talked to me about stealing a painting from Genevieve Art House, he told me this would be my final test. If I completed that task, I would have full access.”

Meredith’s eyes grew wide and she was no longer able to control the emotions that flashed across her face. Surprise, empathy, but most of all, hope. She
wanted
to believe him. She wanted him to be innocent, to have done what he did not because he was a conspirator, but because he wanted to
stop
a traitor. The anger bubbling inside him faded a fraction at that realization.

“That was why I had the painting, Meredith.” He stepped toward her, unsure if he wanted to shake her or kiss her into having faith in him.

“So you wish me to believe you did all this just to meet the leader of Devlin’s group?” she asked.

He nodded wordlessly.

She gripped her hands at her sides, her inner struggle clear. “And what will you do when you meet him?”

He straightened. He had already told her so much of the truth. If he hoped to escape from this prison, he could do no less than tell her all of it.

“I will kill him.”

Meredith gasped at the cold tone of Tristan’s voice, recoiling from his sure, even promise to take another’s life.

His claims tore at her. If he was being truthful, it meant he wasn’t a turncoat. In fact, he was working toward the same goals as her own group. Destroying Devlin’s organization, stopping the treason that threatened the Empire’s troops, their supplies, even their leaders.

But that also meant the driving force in Tristan’s life was vengeance. He was calculating, patient, ready to reward violence with more of the same. He had spent a year cultivating a plan to destroy another man.

“Do you believe me?” His eyes were wild with emotion, which turned them a deep, vibrant green that pulled her in.

She drew a breath. Her heart was so torn, she didn’t know how to answer. “I—I’m not sure.”

The anger he had displayed earlier flashed across his face, but she also saw a stronger emotion in his expression.

Defeat.

Her heart ached. How she
wanted
to believe…But that was the problem. Her desire to exonerate Tristan came from her heart, not her head. How could she know for certain she wasn’t being a lovesick fool?

“I need to know more,” she said softly. “Can you tell me something?”

His gaze came up. “Perhaps.”

“Where is the evidence we believe was hidden in the painting?”

Charlie had demanded that Tristan reveal the truth about the evidence, without success. If she could retrieve it, perhaps it would prove his honesty. It was the only hope she had.

Immediately, he said, “I removed it. I told Devlin he wouldn’t receive his prize until I met with his leader. That was why he left Carmichael before I was arrested. He came to London to arrange it. I was to meet him tomorrow night.”

Her heart soared, but her doubts remained. Perhaps Tristan was giving her a show of faith in the hope of one in return.

But perhaps he was all too aware of how much she wanted to hear his claims of innocence. Perhaps this immediate revelation of the “truth” was part of some greater trap.

Still, the details rang so true…

He reached out and caught her hands. For the second time, her body heated with his touch. But now she couldn’t stay immune. His hands on her skin reminded her of all they had shared. Of everything she wanted to trust.

Tristan stroked his thumb across the sensitive webbing between her thumb and forefinger. Instantly, her body grew heavy with desire. “I tried to explain my position to Isley, but he won’t hear it.”

She shook her head. Of course Charlie wouldn’t believe Tristan. Charlie believed in hard facts, evidence. All the evidence said Tristan was guilty.

“I need to be out of this cell in order to complete my duty, Meredith,” he said, his voice low and husky. “You know me. You cannot believe me capable of desiring the deaths of more men like my brother. Won’t you help me?”

She hesitated. Doubts nagged at her even as everything in her soul begged her to give in. To help him. To convince Charlie that Tristan was innocent.

His face fell when she didn’t answer. A hard edge came into his eyes as he released her hands. “If you won’t assist me because of your heart, then perhaps I can call in a favor?”

“A favor?” she asked with a wrinkled brow.

“Yes. Do you remember the night I found you in that pub?”

Meredith shut her eyes. Even after more than ten years, it was a night she tried not to think about, though it had haunted her more and more since she’d resumed contact with Tristan. She remembered the lewd catcalls of the men in the bar. The heat of a stranger’s dank breath on her cheek as she tried to struggle away from his iron grip.

But mostly she remembered the sense of relief that filled her when someone yanked her attacker away. And the shock when she realized her savior
was none other than Tristan Archer, the boy who made her heart lighter.

She also remembered Tristan’s rage when he realized who the man had attacked. He’d nearly killed her assailant in his need to avenge her. That was why his dismissal of her later had been so hurtful and confusing. His emotions had seemed so strong that night. So real.

Like they did now.

“I remember,” she said softly. “I remember everything.”

He nodded as if he understood. Did memories of that night haunt him as well?

“Then you’ll also remember as we rode home on my horse, you asked me to make a promise.”

She nodded. “I asked you never to tell anyone the truth. I told my aunt and uncle I was staying at a friend’s home for the night. I didn’t want them to know I tried to run away.”

“I kept my promise.”

She lifted her eyes and found herself lost in mossy green. “You did.”

“Then make a promise to me tonight. Help me escape. Set me free. Just long enough to avenge my brother.”

She drew back. “You compare a childhood vow to this? If I did what you ask, it would destroy my future in The Society. I would most likely be arrested.”

“I do not compare the vows,” he said softly. “But I ask you to take that promise I kept all those years ago as proof I am a man of my word. And I give you my word that I am innocent. If I don’t meet with Devlin tomorrow night, all will be lost.”

Her breath caught and her eyes filled with tears as she considered his words. He was asking her to believe
him
over her evidence. Asking her to have faith. She wasn’t sure she had the ability.

She spun away, her head pounding as she went to the door, where she turned back. “I—I don’t know.”

Then she opened it and ran into the hall. She didn’t dare look back, but felt Tristan’s eyes on her until the door blocked his view.

The last thing she heard was his long howl of frustration.

Meredith shifted. The wooden floor was hard under her backside, almost as uncomfortable as remembering her encounter with Tristan. But remember was all she could do. She glanced around. She was surrounded by piles of paperwork, notes and evidence, the things she and other spies had gathered while investigating Tristan.

All things that proved he was lying, proved he truly was a traitor. But her heart insisted. Wouldn’t the same evidence exist if he was telling her the truth? To infiltrate Devlin’s inner circle, Tristan
would have to be convincing. Couldn’t her evidence only be proof of that and not real intent to do wrong?

She glanced to her right, at Ana flipping through some papers. To her left, Emily did the same, making encoded notes on a sheet of paper with a quill pen, her face long and drawn. Meredith could only guess her own expression was just as serious. Certainly she felt the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Emily sighed as she looked up. “You’re right. All the evidence points to Tristan.”

Ana removed her spectacles and set them on the floor as she rubbed her eyes. “I looked and looked, but I found nothing to corroborate Lord Carmichael’s story that he stole the painting in some bid to infiltrate Devlin’s group. And no evidence to prove he’s innocent in any way.”

Meredith nodded. She had known that would be the outcome of this final search. She’d read over the evidence so many times, she could recite it from memory.

Her heart sank. She so wanted to believe him. But perhaps that was exactly what Tristan wanted. If he truly were a traitor, he might be using her feelings against her.

But as she thought of the fire, the desperation, and the desire in his eyes, she had a hard time believing all that was an act only meant to deceive
her. After all, Tristan would not leave any evidence of his innocence, for then Devlin might well have discovered his subterfuge.

Her mind spun between the claims of the man she loved and the facts of her case.

She pushed to her feet and dusted off her gown. She paced the room, needing to move so the pain didn’t catch up to her. “The evidence has always been against him.”

Ana and Emily exchanged a look. Ana stayed on the floor, leaning back on her palms. “The physical evidence, yes. But there is other evidence we haven’t examined.”

Meredith cocked her head. “Other evidence? No, this is everything I gathered for my report, as well as that collected by officials outside our organization.” She motioned to the mess spread across Ana and Emily’s sitting room. “If there was more, trust I would have reviewed it.”