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S amantha considered the apprehension in Marsdale’s stance, the judgmental look in his eyes. Because she’d snuck into his home without anyone being the wiser? Because she stood before him in men’s clothes? Or because he’d learned of the part she’d played in Adrian’s arrest?

If she were to place a bet, she’d say it was all of the above.

“How did you get in?” The first question of what would undoubtedly be a long series.

She relaxed her posture. “The window. I managed to work the latch with my blade.”

His eyes flared before he managed to school his features. “I’ll have to have them properly secured.”

“A wise decision.” She pushed away from the wall and moved a bit closer to where he stood, his body tense, a wary gaze tracking her steps. “Are you aware of what has occurred?”

“If you’re referring to Benjamin Lawrence’s death and Adrian’s arrest, then yes. I am aware.”

His voice was tight. Angry. Accusatory even. She tried not to let that affect her although there was something remarkably painful about being judged by a man as honorable as Marsdale.

A small step brought her slightly closer to where he stood. “Have you been to see him yet?”

“Of course. I went as soon as I heard he was being held at Bow Street.”

She forced herself to ask the next question, the one that was so important to her it burned in her throat. “How is he?”

Marsdale held her gaze for a second, those green eyes assessing, no doubt weighing her sincerity. He swung away and offered his back, abandoning her to the awful loneliness ignorance forced her to bear as he crossed to the side table. She watched him fill a couple of glasses, his mouth set in a grim line when he turned back to face her.

“Shall we sit?” He closed the distance, handed her one of the glasses, and went to claim the chair that stood on the opposite side of the beautifully carved desk. Not waiting for her to respond, he sipped his drink while she slid into one of the chairs that faced him. Only then did Marsdale return his attention to her, the words that followed a blade to Samantha’s already aching heart. “I’ve never seen him look more defeated. This is worse than when Evelyne died. At least then, rage propelled him forward. Now… It’s as if his very essence has been consumed by acceptance.”

She dropped her gaze, not quite able to keep meeting Marsdale’s. “I fear I may be to blame for that.” When he said nothing, she admitted, “He thinks I betrayed him, but I had no idea Kendrick managed to follow me back to Miss Fontaine’s lodgings. I took precautions, carefully devised in an effort to warn him that Kendrick was out to get him.”

“And how did you know this was the case?” A cool question that told her he already had his suspicions.

“Because Kendrick told me of Lord Carver’s orders.” She finally looked at Marsdale again, the condemnation she found in his eyes forcing her to straighten her spine. “Adrian and I were working to catch Lady Eleanor’s killer. We were close – had found a way to lure him. Adrian sent me home to fetch Murry for backup, but Kendrick was there. He warned me that Adrian would be hunted and killed. Believing it to be a trap, I sent decoys out, hoping to lead Kendrick on a wild chase. Only he must have seen through it without me being aware.”

“Sounds like an accident,” Marsdale mused. “Yet the way in which Adrian relayed the details made it seem like you’d done it on purpose. Any idea why he would suppose something like that?”

She had no wish to explain, but she also knew that to gain Marsdale’s trust, she would have to be forthright and honest. Even if it earned his contempt.

For Adrian, there was nothing she would not do.

So she set the glass Marsdale had poured to her lips and drank a good measure of brandy before divulging the naked truth. “He found out that I had been hired by Kendrick and that I’d been tasked with finding damning information against him.”

She explained her hellish upbringing at the orphanage where she’d lived until the age of seven and how grateful she’d been when Harlowe had picked her as one of the girls he wanted to foster. He educated her and ensured she received both weapons and combat training so she could become the spy he dreamed of creating. And once she was ready, he and Kendrick had pushed her to use all means at her disposal to build an ironclad case against the man she would later fall in love with and marry.

“He’s not the only one you fooled,” Marsdale said when she paused for breath. “Even now, hearing you say it – seeing you dressed as you are – I’m having a hard time coming to grips with the facts.”

“The only part I need you to believe is that I care for Adrian deeply.”

“Of that I have no doubt.”

His comment was so unexpected she dared not believe it. “Really?”

“Your actions prior to all of this confirm it, though I don’t believe Adrian has the frame of mind to consider that at the moment. If he did, he would know you would not wish him harm.”

A rush of air poured from her lungs. “None of this was meant to happen, and the fact that he thinks I made it so on purpose is agonizing.”

Silence fell between them for a few moments before Marsdale said, “I trust you didn’t just come here to make a confession.”

“No. I’ve come to seek your aid.”

“In what capacity?”

This part would be tricky. Convincing him to help expose Clive Newton as the Mayfair Murderer had been challenging enough. And that had not involved lending support to people with bounties upon their heads.

But one of the things that had helped tip the scale back then had been Marsdale’s love of Evelyne.

Maybe she could use the bond he had with Adrian in a similar way.

“When Adrian goes to trial, he will be charged with murder. To suppose anything less would be na?ve.” She forced herself to point this out even though every word made her insides twist in protest. “The only way for him to avoid the hangman’s noose is if someone helps him escape.”

Marsdale drew back, his fingers gripping the armrests. And yet, he asked her to continue.

“Murry and I are trying to find the best way forward, but that’s hard to do when we lack information. What we need right now is to know the location of Adrian’s cell inside Bow Street, and whether or not it’s possible to get him out of there before he’s put in front of a judge.” She leaned forward slightly. “Would you be able to draw me a map, based on the visit you paid him today?”

“I wasn’t taken to Adrian’s cell,” Marsdale told her. “We met in a small office, so I’m not actually sure where he’s being kept.”

Samantha’s heart sank. Even though she’d started agreeing with Murry’s assessment that it might be simpler to free Adrian during transport, she’d wanted more than one option.

“I can try to find out though.”

Her gaze snapped to his. “You would do that?”

“Based on what I have learned, I believe Adrian acted correctly. He should not have to hang for killing a man who murdered not one but two innocent women, plus a footman. A man who planned on killing him next. Unfortunately, I fear a valiant effort will be made to use this deed against him. To make sure he no longer poses a threat to those whose secrets he may have been privy to. And yet, I also believe in the law and have no wish to break it, besides which I’ve my mother and sisters to consider. Should anyone learn that I’ve met you without alerting the authorities – that I’ve passed information to you – the scandal would stain my entire family.”

He opened a drawer and pulled out a white sheet of paper, then dipped his quill in the inkwell and drew a couple of lines. “However, Adrian is like a brother to me. I’ll not let him perish at anyone’s whim.” Marsdale continued to draw while he spoke. “And since our friendship is known, I doubt anyone would wonder at my demand to inspect his cell for myself. To be sure it offers the comfort deserved by an upper-class gentleman not yet convicted.

“In the meantime, this will provide a start.” He made a few notes, then slid the paper toward her.

Samantha studied the square shapes he’d joined together and the labels he had provided showing where he and Adrian met in relation to the front offices. A couple of incomplete hallways leading off to the right and where doors were located. It wasn’t much, but it showed a degree of commitment on his part that she’d underestimated.

She took the page, folded it twice, and tucked it into her pocket. “Thank you.”

“I’ll try to learn more tomorrow. Stop by at the same hour if you’re able.”

She thanked him and got up, setting her unfinished drink on his desk while he followed suit, straightening to his full height. She crossed to where he stood, not to him so much as the window through which she would take her leave.

He grabbed her wrist before she moved past him, fingers tightening just enough to hold her captive. “As much as I wish it were otherwise, I do not have the kind of loyalty toward you as I do toward him. Meaning, you’d best make sure you’re not followed, or I will hand you over myself.”

A warning she knew she’d be wise to heed. If there was ever a choice between ensuring his family’s safety and turning her in, there was no question how he would lean.

She nodded her understanding, and he withdrew his hand, allowing her to slip away into the night.