“The physician is called Plumbe.”
Grey didn’t give a damn what the man’s name was as long as Madelaine lived. “Tell me about the man in the warehouse.”
Edward’s gaze fell to the desk. “His name was Sutton.”
“I thought he was dead?”
“Apparently not.” Edward leaned forward. “It seems Sutton didn’t appreciate being left for dead in France.”
“He told you that?”
Edward nodded. “That and more. He told me how he planned to kill me. I was to be burned. Since Father had been our leader, Sutton felt I deserved the most painful death as his heir.”
Grey couldn’t suppress the shudder that took hold of him. “And Madelaine?” Grey wanted to kill the man with his bare hands. It was too bad he was already dead. “What did he want Madelaine for?”
“He wanted to kill her in front of her father, so Stratmore would die twice as he deserved.” Edward shrugged. “Sutton’s words not mine. According to him, Stratmore would suffer watching his daughter die, suffer knowing his name was disgraced, and then get what he deserved by being hung.”
Grey gripped the desk, his knuckles turning white. “How the hell did he plan to get Madelaine into the tower, kill her, and then take her body back out so no one would know she was dead before Stratmore was killed?”
“I don’t know.” Edward scrubbed a hand across his face then winced when his fingers brushed his bruises. “Sutton was deranged. Broken mentally. And God help me, Grey, I can’t help but wonder if the king hadn’t commanded Father to pull Stratmore out of France if we could have saved Sutton,andStratmore,andPearson.”
“Pearson? Did Sutton kill Pearson?”
Edward reached into his coat and threw something on the desk. The gold ring rolled for a moment before it stilled. Grey didn’t have to pick it up to know it was Pearson’s. “Sutton set Stratmore up.” Grey’s mind whirred with the realization.
“Yes.”
“But how did he know what Stratmore had done in taking the king’s list? How did Sutton know his plan had a chance in hell of working?”
“That’s a good question. The obvious answer is he had someone on the inside of the castle working for him. Someone in a position to hear things. Any ideas?”
“Not a bloody one.” Grey rubbed his throbbing temples. “I’m having a hard time thinking on this right now.”
“It’s all right. I sent Gravenhurst back to Windsor to try to ferret out who Sutton had working for him.”
“What about Gravenhurst’s leg? And getting the bullet out?”
“There’s no bullet. He twisted his ankle when he dodged the bullet meant to kill him. He’ll be like new in a few days. What about you?”
“What about me?” Grey would never be the same again if Madelaine died. There would be no “like new.” He would rather be dead too.
“What are you going to do? What do you plan to tell the king about Lady Madelaine?”
Grey’s heart thudded so hard he had to resist the urge not to rub at his chest. “What did Gravenhurst say?”
Edward’s eyes narrowed into slits. “He said to askyou. That he had no knowledge of what Lady Madelaine did or did not know in regard to her father and his stealing of the king’s paper.”
Grey would kiss Gravenhurst the next time he saw him. Well, maybe not kiss him, but drinks and thanks were certainly in order. True, he’d not told Gravenhurst in words what Madelaine had tried to do to help her father, but surely his friend had judged her by Grey’s actions toward her. Yet, Gravenhurst was allowing Grey to decide for himself what should be done. It was akin to giving his blessing and promising silence.
“Lady Madelaine had no knowledge that her father stole the paper from the king. She’s innocent. And I plan to tell the king exactly that.”
Edward’s eyebrows rose. “You’re sure?”
Grey nodded.
Suddenly, Edward reached across the desk and clasped Grey by the hand. “Father would be proud of the man you’ve become.”
Grey pulled his hand free. “Father would not be proud. I misjudged Madelaine, and my error may yet mean her death.” He glanced toward the door, willing Plumbe or his wife to come with news.
