Her shoulders slumped and the breath rushed out of her lungs in an exasperated sigh. He hated to see her look so defeated. Yet knowing how determined she was she might see his stipulation as a temporary setback; try to run again the first chance she got. Or would she try to kill him? He had to make certain she didn’t get her hands on a weapon. His patience snapped under the long, silent moment. “Either tell me now where you want me to take you or I’m going to deliver you back to the castle.”
“No!” The word was swift and strident. “I need to go to the prince.”
“The prince?” Grey couldn’t fathom what the prince had to do with any of this, unless Madelaine’s father had fallen into the camp of men who believed the prince should be regent. Fury, like he’d never known coursed through him as he struggled to fit all the pieces together. But the damned pieces didn’t fit. The prince wouldn’t kill the king’s spies to gain the throne, would he?
“If your father is innocent surely he would want you to go to the king.”
She inhaled as if to speak, but then said nothing. Likely she had no idea what to say. It would have been a perverted pleasure to point out what a lousy traitor she was making, but instead he clamped his teeth together. Leading someone to her own doom was not nearly as fun as he’d presumed when he’d imagined what being a spy would be like. But then again, he’d never considered he’d be leading the only woman he’d ever loved to her death.
His brother had been very specific with his orders. If Grey found proof of Madelaine’s guilt he was to first try to learn who she and her father were working with, and once he had the information, he was to destroy the king’s paper if it was in her possession and bring her to the tower. The king didn’t want the paper kept, even as proof of Stratmore’s guilt, since it also confirmed the king fell into spells of madness.
He itched to snatch off the boot she’d stuffed the paper in. Hell. Really he wanted to take off all her clothes, ravish her and then burn the paper in front of her. Part of him wanted to show her he could be just as cold and calculating as she could, and part of him wanted to shelter her from her own folly, convince her to pretend she knew nothing about what her father had done, and cover up her part in this whole sordid mess. Common sense and duty barely won out. Grey swallowed convulsively, his mouth dry as paper. “Why do you want to go to the prince?”
She was trapped. In order to get to the prince, she was going to have to allow Grey to take her there, or take her most of the way. Without any money for traveling with and based on Grey’s steely-eyed look of determination, there didn’t seem to be another choice but to capitulate.
Guilt immediately ate at her. Grey was risking his reputation, possibly his life for her, and she was repaying him by lying to him and leading him straight into the mess her father had created. This is exactly what she hadn’t wanted. Grey’s loyalty to the king would come under question by his association with her. She’d simply have to escape him once they were close enough to the prince for her to reach him on her own.
“Madelaine.” Grey’s voice vibrated with impatience. Not that she blamed him. She prayed she’d manage to lie without stuttering. “With the king in one of his dark spells, the prince is my father’s best hope for a pardon.”
“How do you know about the king’s dark spells?” Grey demanded.
“Same as you, I imagine. The whispers in the Court are rampant, and when he left so suddenly for Kew…” she shrugged. “People talked, and I couldn’t help but overhear.”
He scrutinized her with flinty eyes. “What makes you think the prince will pardon your father for stealing the king’s paper and for killing a man?”
Anger flared in her breast. “Because there is no proof! My father i—i—is—” Damnation! She could not choke out the words “—is loyal to the king.” She took a deep breath. “My father is loyal to England. The prince will know he would never do anything to harm the king.” Father did think he was doing what was best, after all. “And I vow on my honor Father did not kill anyone.”
“If you say so.” Grey reached across the space that had widened between them. “Come to me.”
She shouldn’t. She should keep her distance. But it was impossible. She walked to him, and he folded her in his arms. The linen of his shirt tickled her cheek, and his smell of woods, horse and sweat filled her nose. She pressed her head to his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat as his hand stroked gently through her hair. A rattling sigh escaped her. His gentle touch made her want to spill the whole truth to him about his father, his brother, and her father. But if she did, she had no doubt he’d promptly drag her back to his brother and the tower, and then there’d be no one to save her father.
She couldn’t expect Grey to understand why her father had done what he had because she wasn’t sure she understood herself. But he was her father. And she owed him her loyalty.Even if he’s wrong about the king?A voice whispered in her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the voice away. She’d made terrible choices that had driven her mother and father to argue over her, but Father had stood by her side and it had cost him his wife. Besides, how could she ever learn if her father was wrong about the king? It wasn’t as if she could seek an audience with His Majesty and study his condition to determine just how much these spells affected him.
Grey pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “We’d better get going.”
She pulled back enough to see his expression. Was that disgust flickering in his eyes? She blinked, and whatever she’d seen was gone. She rubbed her burning eyes. “I’m exhausted.”
“You can sleep while I drive the coach to Kew.”
“Kew?” Her throat constricted with fear. Had he changed his mind? “I need to see the prince, not the king.”
“I know.” Grey took her hand and led her toward the stairs. “The prince is in Kew.”
That couldn’t be right. Her father had said the prince was on a trip. “How do you know?”
Grey paused at the top of the stairs and looked down at her. “My brother told me at Court.”
Her heart raced at his words. Now was a perfect opportunity to try to ease some of his suffering over thinking his father never cared for him. “Your brother knows a great deal about politics. I imagine your father knew a great deal as well.”
An odd expression crossed Grey’s face. “As I’ve said, he had the king’s ear as a wealthy landowner. Why do you ask?”
She followed him through the cellar door and into the kitchen. “I just wonder if perhaps your father might have been so busy with the king’s business that it caused him to neglect you.”
Grey wheeled around. “What are you trying to tell me, Madelaine?”
Behind Grey a pot flashed in a sliver of moonlight above his head. Madelaine blinked, sure she was seeing things. But when the pot flashed again and came down with a resounding thump on the back of Grey’s head, Madelaine screamed as he crumpled to his knees with a groan.
Twenty-Five
