“He’s awake,” said Charity. “We can talk to him now.”
It was morning, and Sir Humphrey and Jack were just finishing their breakfast when she came to tell them that Gideon was conscious.
He had been left all night in the care of Alan and one of Sir Humphrey’s men, though in fact he hadn’t been in a condition to escape. But Jack knew Gideon was both cunning and vicious, and he had no intention of underestimating him.
“We?” Sir Humphrey frowned. “I really don’t think it’s appropriate for you to be present, m’dear.”
“No, but I’m going to be,” she replied inflexibly. “This matter concerns me more closely than anyone, and I want to know what he’s doing here, and what part Lord Ashbourne has played in the whole affair.”
Sir Humphrey stared at her worriedly. There was something implacable in her determination. He was becoming more aware than ever of her uncommon strength of will, and it almost frightened him. He didn’t know what she would do next.
“I don’t think it will do any harm if she’s present,” said Jack quietly. “And she certainly has a right to be. Shall we go up?”
He opened the door for the others and held it as they passed out of the room. Sir Humphrey looked up at him anxiously and he nodded reassuringly.
Gideon’s eyes were closed when they entered the room in which he lay, but there was a crease of pain in his forehead, and he certainly wasn’t asleep.
He turned his head at their approach and his expression was hostile. He wasn’t going to answer questions willingly; perhaps he wasn’t going to answer them at all.
“Hiding behind a woman’s skirts,” he sneered, and Sir Humphrey started forward angrily.
Jack caught him by the arm and held him back.
“How did you know there was something in the library?” he asked almost pleasantly.
“I had a dream,” Gideon replied insolently.
Jack smiled. “So did I,” he said. “It told me you’re going to hang.”
Gideon’s eyes narrowed. He had certainly committed enough capital offences for that to be the case, but he still thought he could evade the rope.
“No, I won’t,” he said. “Do you think my uncle is going to let me hang? He has the ear of the King. Even if I’m convicted, I’ll be pardoned.”
Sir Humphrey opened his mouth to speak. It was his son that Gideon had nearly murdered, and he was angry. Then he felt Jack’s grip on his arm tighten and he suddenly decided to leave the questioning to Riversleigh.
“Perhaps you might be pardoned, even acquitted,” Jack said calmly. “But only if you survive long enough to stand your trial. And there are so many misfortunes that can befall a man—particularly when he’s already injured. The wound may become infected, or you may fall and open it again. It’s so easy to bleed to death.”
Gideon stared at him, understanding dawning in his angry eyes.
“You wouldn’t dare!”
Jack smiled coldly and Gideon began to feel doubtful. He knew that neither Jack nor Alan had any cause to love him—perhaps Jack really would carry out his threat.
“If I answer your questions, will you tell my uncle where I am?” he demanded.
“I think that could be arranged,” Jack agreed.
“What do you want to know?”
“What made you think there was something hidden in the library?”
“I found some papers in my uncle’s desk. He should have locked them up, but on one occasion he was interrupted before he could. He doesn’t know I saw them.”
“I don’t suppose you’d be here if he did,” said Jack. “What did the papers say?”
“They were notes Uncle made. I think he’d taken them from a diary. That didn’t interest me. I was only concerned with finding the pendant. It was there, wasn’t it?” He looked at Jack.
“Why did you want it?” Jack asked, ignoring Sir Humphrey’s amazed gasp.
“Because it’s worth a fortune, you fool,” Gideon said savagely.
“But, when you realised there was a trap set for you last night, you must have suspected it had already been found. You took a risk; you must have wanted it badly,” Jack said.
“That’s none of your business,” Gideon replied sullenly.
“It wasn’t. It is now,” said Jack implacably. “Anything you do is my business now.”
The two men stared at each other, they might have been alone, for all the notice either of them took of Charity and Sir Humphrey. The balance of power had changed, but their mutual dislike remained unaltered.
“Perhaps it was because you wanted a bartering point with Lord Ashbourne,” Jack suggested. “I’d heard he’d finally had the good sense to disown you. But everyone knows he collects such things.”
Charity looked at him sharply. She didn’t entirely understand what was happening, but it was becoming clear to her that Lord Ashbourne lay at the back of everything that had happened.
“What does Lord Ashbourne want?” she demanded harshly. “Why were those notes in his desk in the first place?”
Gideon turned his head on the pillow and looked at her.
“He wants the pendant,” he said softly. “Any way he can get it. He nearly cheated your fool of a father out of a fortune he didn’t even know he possessed! But if it hadn’t been for him,” Gideon looked at Jack with hatred, “I would have got there first.”
Charity’s eyes burned with fierce indignation and anger. She was standing on the opposite side of the bed to the others and, as she took a step towards Gideon, Sir Humphrey tried to intervene.
“M’dear, I think this is a matter…”
She looked up at him and as he met her gaze he faltered into silence.
“What did he do to Papa?” she said, her voice low and dangerous.
“You don’t think my uncle normally demeans himself by playing cards with country bumpkins, do you?” Gideon said scornfully. “As I said before, your father was a fool.”
“Gideon!” The sound of Jack’s voice was so compelling that both Gideon and Charity were startled.
Gideon turned his head towards Jack and began to regret the petty revenge he had taken on Charity. At that moment he was convinced that Jack was going to carry out his earlier threat, and he was afraid.
“Be careful,” said Jack with dangerous softness. “Be very careful.”
Beads of sweat stood out on Gideon’s brow and upper lip, and his mouth was so dry that he couldn’t speak.
“So, let us be clear,” said Jack, after a moment. “Lord Ashbourne tried to trick Mr Mayfield out of possession of the pendant—and you tried to get hold of it first so that you could use it to force your uncle to acknowledge you again. Have I that correctly?”
Gideon nodded, unable to say a word.
“You’ll hang, Gideon. In the circumstances, I don’t think your uncle is going to lift a finger for you.”
“But the scandal,” Gideon croaked. That was how he’d always escaped the consequences of his actions in the past, right from the moment when he’d almost killed Jack. Lord Ashbourne didn’t care for scandal.
“We’ll see,” said Jack. “Alan!” He summoned his servant. “Watch him!”
“Yes, sir.” Alan looked at Gideon with dislike.
“Charity,” said Jack quietly. She looked at him as if she didn’t know who he was, but when he held out his hand imperatively she walked over to him and allowed him to guide her out of the room.
Sir Humphrey, still too staggered to think of anything to say, followed them downstairs.
“We must send someone to the inn to see the wounded servant”, Jack said as he closed the library door.
“What? Good God! I’d quite forgotten the fellow! What a head you have,” Sir Humphrey exclaimed.
“I don’t think what we’ve just heard has come as such a surprise to me as it has to you,” Jack said apologetically. “I’ve had my suspicions for some time. Though I admit I hadn’t guessed that Gideon was involved.”
He was looking at Charity as he spoke. She seemed to be in a daze, and he knew that she had not been prepared. He took her hand and led her to a chair. She sat down obediently, but she hardly seemed to know that she wasn’t alone. Her whole awareness was taken up by the sudden and unexpected knowledge that her father had been cheated out of Hazelhurst—and out of an inheritance he hadn’t known he had.
Until that moment she had felt more exasperation than sympathy for the situation in which her father had found himself. She had been angry with Mr Mayfield for what she had seen as his folly. But now she knew he had been the victim of another man’s duplicity, and the full force of her rage and dislike was directed towards Lord Ashbourne. He had caused all the misery and pain her family had suffered in the last year.
“Suspicions!” Sir Humphrey was still preoccupied by what they had learnt from Gideon, and by the amazing notion that Jack seemed to have anticipated it. “And a pendant? You said you’d found a pendant?”
“The night before last. It was hidden in a cavity behind the bookshelves. It’s by Hilliard,” Jack said, his eyes still on Charity.
But Sir Humphrey had never heard of the miniaturist and he didn’t care who the pendant was by.
“You mean that, when we were discussing it yesterday, you knew all the time that there was really treasure here?” he demanded.
“It was my fault,” said Charity distantly. She was looking pale and almost unnaturally calm. “When Jack first showed it to me I didn’t want to tell anyone until I’d decided what to do with it.”
“And then events rather overtook us,” Jack continued. “I’m sorry, Sir Humphrey.”
“Well, I’m not sure that I blame you,” the magistrate confessed. “All this is beyond my experience. I wouldn’t have taken that stuttering fool’s ramblings seriously. Is that when you first started to be suspicious?”
“That’s when my initial nebulous doubts were confirmed,” Jack replied. “And it was also the point at which it became obvious that Lord Ashbourne must be involved in some way.”
Charity looked up at that. “You mean, you knew he was behind everything?” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did try, at least once,” Jack said. “But we were interrupted and the subject never arose again.”
“I don’t understand,” she said. “When did you try to tell me?”
“It was after I’d first shown you the pendant,” Jack explained. “We were discussing my plan to trap the thief and I said we wouldn’t have to wait long, that he’d have to make his move within the next two weeks. I was just about to tell you why when Sir Humphrey arrived.”
“I still don’t see…” She frowned; she didn’t seem to be thinking as clearly as usual.
Jack took her hand.
“In two weeks, in less than two weeks’ time now, Hazelhurst will belong to Lord Ashbourne,” he said gently. “The stuttering thief said they had to find the pendant—only he called it the treasure—quickly, within that time period. But that amount of haste could only be necessary if the new owner knew what they were looking for. They had to find it before he arrived.”
“I see.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve been a fool.”
For a moment she frowned distantly into the fire; then she stood up in sudden decision.
“I’m going to London,” she announced. “I thought when we caught the thief this business would be ended, but it isn’t. Gideon was only a distraction; Lord Ashbourne is the real villain. I’m going to confront him.”
“But you can’t…” Sir Humphrey began, confused and appalled by the speed at which events were overtaking him.
“Wait!”
Charity was already on her way to the door when Jack seized her arm and swung her round to face him.
“What are you going to say to the Earl when you meet him?” he demanded.
“I’m going to tell him what we know. I’m going to ask him why he did it—and I’m going to make sure he never does anything like this again. Ever.”
Charity’s eyes burned with a greater rage and a more implacable sense of purpose than she had ever before felt. She was impatient of restraint and she tried to pull her arm away from Jack’s grasp in her haste to start for London.
“How?” Jack put his hands on her shoulders and almost shook her. “How are you going to make sure he never does it again? The law can’t help you—I don’t think the Earl has done anything illegal. So what are you going to do—shoot him?”
He had had a horrifying vision of Charity turning up at Lord Ashbourne’s house, armed with a pistol and bent on vengeance. He had never seen her so angry. “Then you’ll be the one to hang,” he finished harshly.
“What do you mean, he didn’t do anything illegal?” Charity demanded. “He cheated Papa. He stole Hazelhurst.”
“It’s not as simple as that. Gideon was lying to you.”
“I don’t understand.” She stared up at him. The immediacy of her rage had passed, but not her determination. “Are you saying that Lord Ashbourne isn’t responsible? You just said he was.”
“He is.” He met her eyes squarely. They had both forgotten Sir Humphrey’s presence. “What he did was immoral—but not illegal. And I don’t think you really understand what he did do. You think he lured your father into a card game and then cheated him out of a fortune, and ultimately out of his home, don’t you?” His eyes bored relentlessly down into hers. “But there’s one thing I’m certain of,” he continued, “the Earl never cheated in a card game.”
“Gideon said he did. Why shouldn’t I believe him?” Charity was beginning to feel confused, almost suspicious. She didn’t understand why Jack seemed to be defending Lord Ashbourne. She’d expected him to support her, to feel the same outrage that she felt—why was he protecting the Earl?
“Why shouldn’t I believe Gideon?” she said again.
“Because he was trying to hurt you,” Jack said.
He was desperately trying to make Charity understand what he thought had happened, but he was still haunted by the vision of what she might do if he failed, and in his anxiety for her he was neither as gentle nor as conciliatory as he might have been.
“He had to tell us nearly the truth—he was too afraid of me not to do so. But you spoiled all his plans and he wanted revenge—so he twisted the story just enough so that it would still be believable, but so that it would also cause you the maximum amount of pain. It would amuse him to set you and Ashbourne at each other’s throats.”
For a moment there was silence in the library. Then Charity lifted Jack’s hands from her shoulders and stepped away from him, deliberately distancing herself from him, and Jack felt a stab of pain at the coldness in her voice.
“Then what do you think did happen?” she asked.
“I think Lord Ashbourne knew about the pendant, and I think he might well have flattered your father into playing cards with him to get it,” Jack replied. “But he didn’t cheat. The Earl is a devious, and in many ways an unscrupulous man—but he has his own peculiar code of honour, and he would never cheat. It wouldn’t accord with his own image of himself.”
“I don’t see that what you have said makes any difference at all,” Charity said inflexibly. “I don’t care whether he cheated or not. It seems to me that everything that has happened to us has been the Earl’s fault. I don’t care whether what he did was legal or not. He’s not going to get away with it.”
“I didn’t say he should get away with it,” Jack replied. “I said you should know what you’re blaming him for—and what he isn’t guilty of.”
Charity looked at him sharply and Jack gave a twisted half-smile in response. He knew she wouldn’t welcome what he was about to say, he knew he might even alienate her completely—but he was still afraid of what she might do.
He was also certain that in the long run it would be far better if she didn’t persist in blinding herself to some of the more distressing aspects of the situation, though later he wondered if he should have given her more time before he said anything.
“What do you mean?” Charity demanded, and now there was an underlying hostility in her tone.
For the first time it had dawned on her that Jack and Lord Ashbourne came from the same world—and that they’d known each other for years. What a fool she was! All the time she had been thinking of the Earl as the outsider in her world—but that wasn’t how it was. It was she who was the outsider in Jack’s and Lord Ashbourne’s world! No wonder Jack was defending the Earl.
If Jack had known what she was thinking he might have approached the situation differently—but he didn’t; and he was still trying to prepare Charity for what she would have to face if she confronted Lord Ashbourne.
“I believe you can blame the Earl for encouraging your father to play cards with him,” he said slowly. “But not for forcing him to do so. You can also blame him for having done so with a secret ulterior motive. And you can blame him for having continued the game until Mr Mayfield was twenty thousand pounds in debt—there was always something slightly odd about the fact that your father lost almost exactly the same sum as his estate was worth.”
That was one of the things which had always seemed strange to Jack, even before he had suspected there was anything more sinister behind the debt.
“But you can’t blame Lord Ashbourne for not having given your father enough time to repay his debt—he gave him a whole year,” he continued, even though he knew that Charity might not accept what he was saying. “Perhaps the Earl thought that by doing so he was giving your father a fair chance to recover himself. Nor can you blame him for Gideon’s presence, the Earl certainly wouldn’t have permitted that if he’d known anything about it—and, most important of all, you can’t blame him for your father’s death,” he finished more gently, because he thought it was that belief which lay at the root of Charity’s distress.
She stood, shocked and still. Jack’s words washing over her like icy water. She knew he was right about Gideon; the Earl would have been as much a victim of his nephew as she and her mother would have been if Gideon had been successful.
But she couldn’t be as dispassionate as Jack apparently was about what the Earl had done. And Mr Mayfield had died so quickly after that bitter card game that in her mind the two events were inextricably linked. She couldn’t rid herself of the notion that her father must have been feeling desperately unhappy, despairing even, when he died. Lord Ashbourne might not have caused Mr Mayfield’s death, but he was certainly responsible for the distress he must have been feeling at the time.
Jack was watching her closely and he saw the hardening of her purpose in her eyes. She still intended to confront the Earl, and to do so half armed, because she still hadn’t accepted one basic, unpleasant fact.
There was one last thing for him to say. He knew that if he did so not only would he hurt her, but she might also never forgive him for it. But he also knew that there were others involved who would be less considerate, and he wanted her to be prepared.
“Your father must always have had a choice,” he said gently. “No one, not even the Earl, can force a man to play cards with him against his will.”
To Jack, that was the key to the whole affair. What he believed Lord Ashbourne to have done was immoral, devious and dishonest. But everything he knew about the Earl convinced him that Lord Ashbourne had neither cheated, nor forced Mr Mayfield to play cards with him. So Charity’s father must have had a choice—and he had made the wrong one. He was not blameless for what had happened to his family. No man needed to gamble with his home.
But Charity didn’t want to hear that: it hurt too much—and it was too close to the truth.
“Why do you keep defending the Earl?” she demanded. She was flushed and breathing rather quickly. “Is he your friend? Yes, of course, he must be. How else could you claim to know so much about him?”
“Charity…” Jack began. He was appalled at the hostility in her eyes.
“I dare say you knew all along what was happening,” Charity swept on, ignoring his attempt to speak to her indignation and fury. It was difficult to know whether she really believed what she was saying, but in her own pain and distress she lashed out as hard as she could at Jack.
“No wonder you found everything so amusing, such country bumpkins as we are. I dare say his lordship will be very grateful to you for rescuing his pendant—and all the time I thought you were keeping it safe for me. Well, you haven’t won yet, my lord. I want it back. You haven’t had time to go home; you must still have it.”
She held out her hand imperatively.
Jack was very pale, but he didn’t say anything. He simply put his hand in his pocket and drew out the box which contained the pendant.
Charity took it and opened it. Jack smiled, rather bitterly, at that.
“It’s still there,” he said, not angrily, because he wasn’t angry. It was too easy for him to understand why she thought as she did—but it still hurt him.
“I had no intention of stealing it—or of delivering it into any hands but yours,” he said.
Charity looked up, and for a moment her eyes met his—then she looked away again. Her anger had passed now, but she felt drained and confused. The ground seemed to be shifting beneath her feet, and she turned with relief to Sir Humphrey, who was always the same, and who hated change.
“Will you look after this for me?” she asked. “I don’t want to take it to London—something might happen to it.”
“Of course, my dear,” he said instantly. “But I think you’re doing Riversleigh an injustice.”
The magistrate hadn’t entirely followed everything that had happened, and he wasn’t sure if he approved of everything Jack had said—but he also thought Charity had been less than fair.
“Am I?” she looked at Sir Humphrey bleakly. “I don’t feel certain of anything any more. Perhaps things will seem clearer when I’ve seen Lord Ashbourne.”
“You can’t go to London on your own,” said Sir Humphrey gruffly, knowing he’d never be able to persuade her not to go at all. “If you’re determined to go I’ll come with you.”
“Oh, Sir Humphrey!” Charity exclaimed. She could feel tears pricking at the back of her eyes at this evidence of friendship. The magistrate disliked travelling and hated going outside his own county. “Thank you so much, but please don’t come,” she said. “You know how much you dislike London—and you won’t want to leave Owen now. I shall be quite all right.”
“My dear, I can’t—” Sir Humphrey began.
“I’ll escort you to town,” said Jack quietly. “You and your mother can come as guests of my mother.”
“No,” said Charity flatly. “Mama isn’t to know anything about this business. You must promise, both of you, not to tell her.”
She looked from one man to the other.
Sir Humphrey sighed.
“Very well, my dear,” he said.
She looked at Jack.
“And you,” she said.
“You have my word,” he replied steadily.
“I don’t see how it’s going to be managed, though,” Sir Humphrey protested. “You can’t go rushing off to London on your own, or even in Riversleigh’s company, without starting a lot of gossip. What’s your mother going to say? I really think you ought to let someone go in your stead.”
“No,” said Charity. “I want to hear the truth for myself, then perhaps things will begin to make sense again.”
She was dangerously close to tears; only a supreme effort of will made it possible for her to speak so calmly.
“I don’t think there’ll be any great difficulty, Leydon,” said Jack quickly.
He was still very pale, but his concern now was for Charity. He could feel her distress as if it was his own and he wanted to bring the discussion to an end as soon as possible in the hope that, if something was decided, Charity would begin to feel better.
“We can say that my mother has invited Charity and Mrs Mayfield to visit her, but, since Mrs Mayfield doesn’t feel up to travelling at the moment, Charity is to go on ahead—to arrange things. Most people know the Mayfields are planning to move to London; I don’t think the news will be too surprising.”
“But what about Mrs Mayfield?” Sir Humphrey asked. “Won’t she think it odd?”
“Not necessarily.” Jack’s lips twisted in a wry smile. He was well aware of Mrs Mayfield’s matrimonial designs for her daughter, and fairly sure that she wouldn’t have any objection to Charity visiting Mrs Riversleigh. “I believe it was her idea that Charity should ask my advice on where they ought to live in London,” he said to Sir Humphrey. “The only problem may be to convince her that she doesn’t feel up to the journey at the moment—and I’m sure Charity can manage that.”
“Oh, yes,” said Charity distantly; she seemed to have dissociated herself from the conversation now. “She hates travelling more than Sir Humphrey. I’ll just have to tell her that there’s been a lot of rain between here and London. When can we leave?”
“Now, if you like,” said Jack calmly. “But it would cause less comment if we set off tomorrow morning. There are several things that need to be arranged.”
Charity looked at him and he wondered if she suspected him of deliberately trying to hinder her efforts to see Lord Ashbourne, but if she did, she didn’t say anything.
“I must go and speak to Mrs Wendle,” she said. “Then I’m going back to Leydon House.”
She went out, closing the door behind her, and Jack drew in a deep, slightly ragged breath.
“I take it that that blackguard isn’t your friend?” said Sir Humphrey quietly.
“No.” Jack sat down on the edge of the table. “No, he’s no friend of mine.”
“Why didn’t you tell her?” Sir Humphrey demanded. “Why did you make it sound as if you were protecting him? It was bad enough for her to hear what she did about her father, without it sounding as if her…friends are on the side of her enemy.”
The magistrate hadn’t been blind to the growing intimacy between Charity and the new Lord Riversleigh; that was partly why he found Jack’s attitude so difficult to understand.
“You think I shouldn’t have rammed it down her throat that her father shared responsibility for what happened?” Jack said. “You’re right, of course. But you don’t know the Earl. You have to see things clearly when you deal with him—otherwise he manipulates everything to his own advantage. If Charity marches in and accuses the Earl of forcing Mayfield to play cards with him—or of cheating—the first thing Ashbourne will hit her with is the fact that Mayfield didn’t have to play. That he was a fool to be flattered by a great man’s praise!”
Jack caught himself up. There was no point in justifying what he’d said. He’d been motivated by fear for Charity more than anything else, but he knew he’d handled the situation badly. Ironically, he suspected that if he had cared less he would have done better.
“It’s a complicated situation,” he said more quietly. “The Mayfields still owe the Earl twenty thousand pounds, and I think the law will favour Ashbourne.”
“But good God, man!” Sir Humphrey burst out. “Even if he didn’t cheat, he will have obtained Hazelhurst under false pretences—and now we know—”
“As far as we’re aware, there were no witnesses to what happened at that card game,” Jack interrupted. “And by the time they came to sign the agreement everything seemed to be in order—Mayfield’s lawyer certainly thinks so. So do I. I saw the agreement the night this place was burgled and I tidied up for Charity. Ashbourne was very clever; there’s no mention of a gambling debt in the agreement—the courts are notoriously reluctant to enforce gambling debts. The agreement merely mentions a loan for a non-specified purpose secured against Hazelhurst. We might be able to overturn it—but it would be a long and costly legal battle.”
“Then they’re still going to lose Hazelhurst!” the magistrate exclaimed, quite horrified by the idea.
“Unless we do something to avert the inevitable,” said Jack grimly. “That’s what I was trying to explain to Charity, though I’m afraid I didn’t do it very well. Righteous anger is a very poor weapon when you’re dealing with a man like the Earl.”
“Good God,” said Sir Humphrey blankly. “Do you have a better one?”
Jack looked thoughtfully into the fire, and drummed his fingers against the edge of the table.
“I think I may be able to lay my hands on one,” he said at last. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had dealings with the Earl. Besides,” he glanced up, with the first glint of real humour in his eyes that morning since they’d spoken to Gideon, “I don’t imagine any of us care for the idea of having the Earl for our neighbour.”
“I should say not!” the magistrate exclaimed. “I hadn’t thought of that. He may not be a cheat—to be honest, Mayfield was such a poor card-player that he probably didn’t need to be—but he certainly doesn’t sound like the kind of man I’d care to welcome into the area!”
“I didn’t think he would be,” Jack murmured, and looked up as Charity came back into the room.
She was still very pale, but quite composed.
“Shall we go?” she asked, looking at Sir Humphrey.
He hesitated for a moment. He wanted to help her in any way he could, but it was in his mind that it would be better if he left her alone with Jack in the hope that they settle their differences.
“I’d be glad to escort you, my dear,” he said at last. “But I’m afraid my duty obliges me to go to the inn to see the other scoundrel involved in the housebreaking. I’m sure Riversleigh will be pleased to accompany you.”
He took her hand.
“I’m sure everything will turn out all right in the end,” he said gruffly. “If there’s any way I can help, don’t hesitate to ask. And don’t fear that I won’t keep your mother, and the pendant, safe.”
“Thank you.” She smiled at him, her eyes glistening.
He squeezed her hand warmly and hurried out of the room, leaving Charity alone with Jack.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked quietly.
“In a minute.” She turned away from him and went to stand looking out of the window.
“I’m sorry,” she said, without looking at him. “I had no right to accuse you of complicity with Lord Ashbourne.”
“Charity!” He came towards her.
“No! Don’t touch me.” She turned to face him. “I believe that you’re not working with the Earl—if you had been there would have been no need for you to show me the pendant at all.”
She saw the sudden leap in his eyes and smiled without much humour.
“But there are still too many things I don’t understand,” she said. “You’re a stranger from a world that’s foreign to me, a world where all kinds of despicable tricks seem to be acceptable as long as you don’t actually break some peculiar code of honour—and I’m not sure I want any part of it. Take me to London, my lord. I accept your help so far because I have to—but after that…”
She didn’t finish what she was saying. Instead she walked over to the door, turning to look back at Jack with her hand resting on the door-handle.
“I’m ready to go now,” she said.