Page 62 of A Courtship of Conspiracies
“We left it behind so we would not alert anyone to our trespassing,” she said, finding her voice. “But I copied most of the pages.”
Westmarch’s gaze sharpened. “Where are they?”
Kate moved to the desk and opened the pouch. The paper edges whispered against one another as she withdrew the folded ledger papers and laid them before him. Westmarch leaned over them at once, his face hardening with every line he read.
James shifted closer, leaning one hip against the desk’s edge. He said nothing, but she felt him beside her as surely as she felt the heat of the fire at her back. Only minutes ago, his arms had been around her. Now every inch between them felt crowded with questions.
Turning the last page, Westmarch let out a heavy sigh and rested one hand on the desk.
“Tell me what you learned from these pages.”
Kate glanced at James. He smiled and gave her a nod, and some of the tightness in her chest eased. “The names all appear to be false. We do not recognize a single one.”
“The shipments suggest treason,” James said. “The other entries are less direct, but they point to blackmail and bribery. Whoever controls this ledger has reach, money, and influence.”
Kate watched him speak. He was confident, composed, and experienced. She could see it in him now, the discipline beneath the charm, the calculation beneath the ease. Perhaps she should have recognized it sooner. Or perhaps James had simply been very good at hiding in plain sight.
How long had this been his life? How much had he guessed about hers? And how many times had they stood beside one another, each guarding a truth the other had nearly touched?
Westmarch straightened, crossed his arms, and paced between the desk and the bookshelves, the firelight moving across the room. Surely he had dealt with grave matters during his years at the Home Office, but the concern etched into his features worried Kate.
Westmarch stopped abruptly, his focus locking onto her. “I trust you were thorough. Are there any other pages?”
“A few.” Her fingers felt clumsy as she opened the pouch again and withdrew the remaining sheets. She held them out toward him, but a folded parchment slipped free and fluttered to the floor.
Kate’s stomach dropped.
She had almost forgotten.
The warehouse letter lay at her feet, the unmistakable symbol of a serpent coiled around an oak leaf, pressed into a wax seal. Firelight moved across the dark red impression, making the serpent seem almost alive.
The quiet in the room grew suffocating. Her pulse quickened.
Westmarch observed her, his head tilted in silent assessment. “You have seen this symbol before.”
It was not a question.
“Yes. Several times.”
“Where?”
“I first noticed it on the corner of a message I decoded, but I did not think it significant until it appeared again. Do you remember the series of unusual poems inTheMorning PostI wrote you about? They all referenced different combinations of oak, leaf, and serpent. Then the same mark was hidden on a note I picked up after the meeting in the library as well as on the crates in the alley at The Crown & Oak.”
As she spoke, she became aware of a change beside her. James had gone still, his gaze fixed on the seal lying between them on the floor. Kate’s voice faltered.
“Go on,” Westmarch said, his tone turning serious.
She forced herself to continue. “I know you told me to observe and send word if the pattern became clearer, and not to do anything that would risk exposure. But by the time I understood the messages were more than strange poems, I had no way to reach you. Someone in London was submitting them, and I could not let the trail go cold.” She held her breath, feeling as though she were about to be reprimanded by her governess. “I am aware I may have been imprudent, but I deemed it necessary.”
Westmarch’s features hardened. “I will not pretend to approve of the risk you took with your identity. We have guarded it too carefully for that.”
Kate braced herself.
“But I will also not pretend that the result was anything less than extraordinary.” His mouth softened into the smallest smile. “Brilliant, Kate,” he said. “You managed to piece together in weeks what has taken me months.”
Kate blinked, caught entirely off guard, but before she could respond, Westmarch’s attention shifted past her. “James?”
James had not moved. He was staring at the letter lying on the floor.
