Page 49 of What A Rogue Wants (Lords Of Deception #1)

Grey tried to comprehend where the woman might have come from, but his mind felt fuzzy as if he’d drank too much.

God! He wished he were sloshed and this were a bad dream.

Seeming to understand his shock, the woman took him by the arm and guided him out of the room, talking to him in low tones as she led him down the hall and into a study.

He fell, more so than sat, into the chair she offered, and when she poured a full glass of whiskey and pushed the glass toward him, he didn’t hesitate to drink.

The woman hurried from the room, and he dropped his head into his hands.

He loved Madelaine, probably since the day he’d met her in Golden Square.

He was an idiot. He should have listened to her.

She wasn’t conspiring to murder them. She’d saved them.

He rubbed his stinging eyes and sat back in the chair. He’d failed her. He should have married her the minute he’d found out her father was in trouble. He should have protected her. Was he to forever be wrong about those he loved, losing them one by one as punishment for being an idiot?

Without her, he was nothing. He turned the ring on his finger, duty warring against love, desire against honor.

Without hesitation, he yanked the ring off his finger and threw it against the window.

It smacked the glass then clattered to the ground.

His father had probably just flipped over in his grave.

Grey loathed himself for his betrayal, but he’d live with the guilt.

What he could not live without was Madelaine.

And now, he’d do everything in his power to protect her.

He sat that way, unable to move, unwilling to think about anything but willing her to stay alive, until the creak of the door alerted him to someone entering the room.

Edward dragged into the room and slumped into the chair opposite Grey.

With his lip cut and swollen, his eye blackened and a nasty gash on his forehead, it appeared he had put up a fight before being captured by the man in the warehouse.

Edward’s eyebrows puckered together, a deep crease appearing between his eyes.

He glanced around the room, got up and came back toward Grey holding a towel.

“Your shoulder is bleeding.”

Grey looked in surprise at his shoulder.

He’d forgotten a bullet had skimmed him there.

He slipped off his shirt and surveyed the wound.

Not bad. Not nearly as dangerous as Madelaine’s wound.

Pouring some of the whiskey from the crystal decanter onto the towel, he blotted the towel against his shoulder and clenched his teeth against the pain.

Once he felt the wound numb, and decided it was clean enough, he shrugged his shirt back on and regarded Edward. “Did you know that man?”

“I used to.” Edward reached for the decanter with a trembling hand and sloshed whiskey into Grey’s glass. Edward pulled the glass toward him, picked it up and downed the liquid. “How is Lady Madelaine?”

Grey struggled to control his emotions. “The physician is working on her.”

“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, and Stratmore, and Pearson. ”

“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 ask you . 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.

“You love her.” It was a statement rather than a question.

“I do. And if she lives and will have me, I intend to marry her. Yet one more reason I would have given Father to be disappointed in me.”

“He wouldn’t have been disappointed.”

Grey scoffed with disbelief. “You said yourself Father thought wives were weakness for spies.”

“He did. But he also took a wife and loved Mother very much.” Edward smiled. “As I said before, the two of you are more alike than either of you ever saw. It’s why you didn’t rub along well.”

Grey stood and moved to the door to peer down the hall. Impatience clawed at him. If he didn’t have some news soon, he’d go mad. “I always thought you were more like Father.” He stared out the window into the street shining with the first rays of daylight.

Edward came up behind Grey and grasped him on the shoulder. “Not in matters of the heart. Where that’s concerned, I am practical where you two are romantic. If I ever take a wife, it will simply be because I must produce an heir. But only if you don’t produce one for me.”

It was on the tip of Grey’s tongue to reply, but Plumbe appeared in the hall, and Grey raced toward the man. “How is she?”

The man’s eyes cast downward and Grey’s heart plunged. The physician wiped his hands on his bloody apron before raising his gaze to Grey’s. “She’s alive for now. I can’t say what tomorrow will bring.”