“A convenient claim,” Lucian said finally, “now that Sir Giles is no longer alive to defend his name. How can you honestly expect me to believe you?”

“I have proof, my lord… if you wish to see it?”

“Yes.”

Keeping a wary eye on Lucian, the clerk struggled to his feet and went to one corner of the room. Lucian spared a glance around the spartan chamber, which held a cot, a desk, a chair and reading lamp, and a cabinet with a brazier for cooking. If Jenkins was being paid for treason, there was little luxury here to show for it.

Bypassing the desk, the clerk knelt and dug up a loose floorboard. Retrieving a leather pouch, he turned it over to Lucian. “They’re all here-all the instructions Sir Giles gave me for the past year.”

Lucian thumbed through the scraps of paper. “I see nothing to connect these to Sir Giles. You could have forged these just as you forged my letter.”

“But I didn’t, my lord, I swear it! I still have nearly all the money he gave me from the first time. A hundred pounds. Once I realized… I couldn’t spend it. I told Sir Giles I would no longer help. I pleaded- but he insisted. He said Caliban would kill my mother if I failed to do exactly as he asked.”

His expression held such sincere misery, Lucian was inclined to believe him. Moreover, he knew very well what treachery Giles had been capable of.

“If your contact is dead, how do you communicate now?”

“My instructions are left anonymously… in a flowerpot outside my door. I never see who leaves them.”

Lucian stared at him for a long moment, using his most intimidating scowl. The clerk visibly quailed but did not retract his story.

“Very well,” Lucian said at last. “Tell me about this letter of authorization you wrote. You forged my hand?”

“Yes, my lord. I obtained some of your correspondence and practiced for weeks.”

“How did you manage to get my seal?”

“I did not, exactly. I was supplied with several wax wafers with your seal already imprinted on them. It wasn’t difficult to transfer one to the letter. It requires only a hot brick and a razor-thin knife.”

“Someone must have acquired your seal ring,” Philip observed.

He kept a seal at his offices, Lucian reflected, and another in his study at home- He felt every muscle grow rigid as his mind flashed back to a morning some weeks ago when he’d found Brynn in his study with her brother. And the following day she had returned alone, claiming to be searching for a lost earring.

God’s mercy… Was that yet another lie? He wouldn’t put it past Sir Grayson to have stolen his seal, but Brynn? Was she involved in treason?

Lucian drew a sharp breath. His first instinct was to deny the possibility; his second, a desperate desire to shield her from discovery. She was his wife, the woman who carried his child. The one who owned his heart. It would devastate him to have to choose between her and his duty.

Lucian clenched his jaw, knowing he no longer had any objectivity where Brynn was concerned, yet he didn’t want Philip to know he suspected his wife of treason. At least not until he had proof. He would have to discover the truth from Brynn. Meanwhile her brother might very well be preparing to transport the gold to France…

Shaking himself from his stupor, Lucian eyed the trembling clerk. “You understand, I trust, the seriousness of your crime against the Crown? That the best I can do for you is to see that you are imprisoned or transported rather than hanged?”

“Yes, my lord,” Jenkins whispered. “I understand. I… I would be grateful if you would spare my life.”

“Mr. Barton here will see to your arrest. I suggest you gather whatever belongings will help ease your incarceration until your trial.”

“Th-thank you, my lord.”

When the clerk turned away, Lucian drew Philip aside. “I have a notion who might have had access to my seal,” he said in a low voice. “Sir Grayson Caldwell.”

Philip stared. “But that is…”

“My wife’s brother, I know. If Sir Grayson is the culprit, it’s possible this latest shipment of gold was taken to Cornwall, to be transported to France from there. Following him may be our only hope in finding it.”

“Yes, I concur,” Philip said slowly.

“I want you to take a half dozen of your best men and ride to Cornwall. Observe Sir Grayson from a distance, but do nothing to alert him that he is suspect. I don’t want you to show yourself at all, do I make myself clear?”

“I understand, my lord. You will be coming to Cornwall, as well?”

“Yes, I’ll follow you shortly. But I have a matter to resolve first,” Lucian said grimly. “One that can’t be delayed.”


It required all Lucian’s acting skills to rein in his emotions and refrain from confronting Brynn the moment he returned home. He wanted to shake the truth out of her, to plead with her to deny her complicity. Yet given her propensity for lies, he knew he was wiser to observe her reaction, to see if she would reveal her guilt. He could only pray she would allay his dark suspicions.

When he arrived, he went straight to his rooms and began to pack, not calling his valet because he didn’t want an audience.

He sensed Brynn’s presence even before she spoke; she had entered his bedchamber through their connecting door.

“Is something wrong, Lucian? You are so late, I had begun to worry.”

“Yes, there is something very much wrong,” he answered tersely, scarcely giving her a glance. “Another shipment of gold has been stolen.”

She frowned. “Another one?”

Lucian stopped his packing and gave her a level look. “The circumstances are different from the earlier times-actually worse. My seal ring was brazenly used to forge a letter that authorized handing over the gold to the thieves.”

“Your seal ring?” Her voice dropped to a mere whisper.

He forced his expression to remain impassive. “Yes, mine. It implicates me in treason.”

Her hand went to her throat. “Surely not… No one would believe you had anything to do with stealing government gold.”

“Perhaps not, but it will behoove me to catch the thieves as soon as possible.”

It was a clear opening for her to confess. Lucian felt his heart contract as he waited for Brynn to speak.

She took a step toward him, her beautiful features wrought with dismay. But then she stopped and visibly collected herself.

“Are you leaving tonight?”

A sinking, hollow feeling clenched Lucian’s insides. “We have no real leads. I will make for Dover tonight. That seems to be the likeliest point for the gold to be smuggled to France. It will take some time to investigate. Forgive me, but I may be gone for several days.”

“I…understand.”

“Will you be all right here alone?”

“Yes,” she murmured. “There is still a great deal to do to prepare for Raven’s wedding.”

Closing his valise, Lucian gave Brynn a brief kiss on her forehead, not trusting himself to do more, but she seemed too distracted to notice his lack of intimacy or to return the salute.

He had stepped back and picked up his valise when she apparently recovered.

“Lucian, please… take care,” she said, sounding sincere.

“I will,” he replied. “You take care as well, love.”

Then, feeling a numbing chill, he turned on his heel and quit the room.


Brynn stood where he had left her, fear and fury gripping her. Gray never had answered any of her letters questioning his dubious behavior during his visit some weeks ago, but she no longer had any doubt her brother had betrayed her. He had lied to her about the ring, claiming he needed the Wycliff seal to authorize transporting a load of brandy so he could elude the tax revenuers. Instead he had orchestrated an enormous theft, stealing a fortune in gold to smuggle to his country’s enemies!

Even worse, his crime could implicate Lucian in treason. Dear God…

Her mind and heart in chaos, Brynn returned to her own bedchamber, where she began pacing the floor as she tried desperately to think what to do.

Lucian was determined to apprehend the traitors. If he couldn’t find the gold in Dover, he would look elsewhere. And the trail might very well lead to Cornwall and Gray…

Brynn shuddered to think what would happen when Lucian confronted her brother. He would show no mercy. His duty was almost an obsession with him. Her brother would be arrested and possibly hanged… Or what if Grayson resisted Lucian as Giles had? It was an easy leap to imagine the two of them locked in mortal combat like in her dark dreams. But this time Lucian might not escape with his life. Or her brother might not.

An icy rivulet of fear ran down her spine. It terrified her to think of either one of them dying.

She didn’t want Gray to be hanged, yet if he had committed such a crime, he deserved some measure of punishment. He was still her brother, though. Her flesh and blood. She had to try to save him if she could. But how?

She couldn’t throw herself on her husband’s mercy. Even if she were to plead with Lucian to save her brother, she couldn’t believe he cared for her enough to sacrifice honor and duty for her sake. He had killed one of his closest friends who had committed treason, so why would he spare her brother?

And in any case, Grayson had to be stopped. She didn’t want the stolen gold to fall into French hands any more than Lucian did.

Sweet heaven, why had she not tried harder to stop Grayson weeks ago? She would never be able to assuage her own guilt. She was to blame for giving him access to Lucian’s private study. She should have insisted Gray return the ring at once, even if it had meant making a scene in front of her husband. At least then she could have prevented it from being used for treason.