Page 85 of A Courtship of Conspiracies
A chill ran through Kate.
“It was not enough to know what had happened,” Thomas continued. “But it was enough to know the list was dangerous. When I realized the boy had mistaken me for Henry, I marked The Sentinel because I feared it was not the man Henry had been hunting, but the man he had become.”
The answer settled between them in the cold mist.
“You should have come to me,” James said.
“With what? A hidden list, a cryptic note, and a fear that my brother might have become a traitor? If I was wrong, I would have tarnished his name on nothing but suspicion. And if I was right and your loyalties were not what I hoped—if you were another name on that list—I would have made myself a target.”
James lifted a brow. “And Westmarch? Why not just send it to him?”
“Westmarch brought Henry into that world. I didn’t know if he was being watched, or worse, part of it. I had no idea who to trust.”
“So you sent it to Brenton Hall.”
“Your London house was too visible,” Thomas said. “A letter sent to Brenton Hall had a better chance of reaching you without passing through the wrong hands. So I sent it and waited to see what you would do.”
“And if I ignored it?”
“Then I would know you were not the man I hoped you were.”
James’s jaw tightened. “You used me.”
“Yes. I regret the necessity, but not the result.”
James turned on him. “You sound like your brother when you speak of necessity.”
Thomas flinched, the first crack Kate had seen in his composure. “Do not mistake me for Henry.”
James stiffened beside her but said nothing.
“Henry used men for power,” Thomas said. “I sent a warning because I had no other way to stop him.”
For several seconds, no one spoke.
“What do you want from us?” James asked.
Thomas was silent long enough for the morning to brighten around them. “To help stop the treachery my brother served.”
“For the Crown?”
“For the law,” Thomas said. “And for the family name he blackened.”
Kate studied him. She did not know Thomas well enough to trust him fully, but he already knew their secrets. For now, the truth he had shared would have to be enough.
“Westmarch will want to hear this,” James said.
Thomas nodded. “I have already sent word asking for a meeting.”
James held his gaze. “And if you learn anything that concerns my wife, you come to us. Not only Westmarch.”
“Understood.” Thomas inclined his head in farewell and retraced his steps, disappearing down the deserted street.
James offered Kate his arm, and they turned from the bridge toward home. Behind them, the Thames flowed steadily beneath the brightening sky.
By late afternoon, Kate stood at the threshold of James’s study, staring at what now resembled a war room. The servants had been dismissed from this floor and James’s mother and Alicehad been persuaded to spend the afternoon elsewhere. The long table near the bookshelves was covered with copied ledger pages, the list of twelve titles, and every scrap of intelligence they dared place in one room.
James joined her at the doorway.
