When a Duchess Says I Do - Grace Burrowes Page 0,87
good when your pursuers don’t know where to find you, but bad when you’re trying not to be found.”
Duncan drew the blade along the stone. “I ask myself: Why should Matilda spend the rest of her life in hiding when her great sin was that she simply came upon an upsetting situation and did not want to have to explain it to the authorities? Wakefield created this mess, perhaps he can resolve it.”
“And what of the fiancé? Matilda is convinced he’s onto Wakefield’s game, and Parker is military. His interest in a career spy is unlikely to be casual.”
Duncan flipped the scythe, applying the second side of the blade to the stone. “The military hero stands to burnish his halo, however quietly. If he captures a spy, verifies the fate of stolen plans, and exposes a treasonous plot, his promotion to general officer is likely assured.”
Stephen pushed away from the urn and retrieved his coat from the shoulders of a statue of the Venus de’ Medici.
“I hadn’t considered that Parker would be tracking Matilda down for his own glory. Not a very suitor-ly thing to do.”
“You have bracken in your hair.”
“So do you.”
A moment of swatting at hair ensued. Between one brush of his fingers through his locks and the next, Duncan’s mind seized on a thought.
“If Matilda marries Parker, he cannot testify against her.”
Stephen finished dusting twigs from his hair and gave Venus’s breast a pat. “What are you going on about now?”
“Spousal privilege. Just as a priest cannot be compelled to give testimony regarding what he’s heard in the confessional, spouses cannot be compelled to testify against each other.” This legal detail was profoundly unsettling, also a well-established aspect of English law.
“Matilda wasn’t Parker’s wife when she stole the plans,” Stephen said. “Does that matter?”
“If she’s his wife when she’s put on trial, no.” Was the war hero clever and selfless enough to offer Matilda this protection? “And she didn’t steal anything. Her father was in possession of those plans, and he hasn’t accused her of theft.”
“Cases such as these require brandy,” Stephen said. “And victuals. I’m starving.”
Duncan began walking toward the house. “How can you think of food when—damn.”
“You swore,” Stephen said, hitching along beside him. “Why on earth would you—? Damn.”
The ducal coach rattled up the drive and continued around to the front of the manor, another large conveyance following closely behind it.
“The invading forces have arrived,” Stephen said. “Prepare to man the turrets and defend your lemon drops.”
Jane and Matilda would get on famously. They were both serious, brilliant, determined ladies with a sense of mischief.
“This is not an invasion.” Duncan resumed walking, his pace more deliberate. “These are our reinforcements.”
“Which is why you’ll warn Matilda privately before you let Quinn and Jane have at her.”
“The children will take her captive.” A lovely thought, Matilda spirited away to the nursery, where she’d be forced to read stories and marvel at Bitty’s lone card trick by the hour.
“I’m surprised Matilda wasn’t out here supervising us,” Stephen said. “You cut a fine figure when you shed your jacket and coat.”
“Doubtless she was admiring me from the windows.”
“I was watching for her, and I didn’t see her.”
Duncan longed to give Stephen a shove—affection and annoyance, in one casual gesture—but one didn’t physically shove Stephen.
“Find your own true love,” Duncan said, “and leave mine alone.”
“I’ll intercept your reinforcements,” Stephen said, turning for the back terrace. “You find your true love and explain to her about how the Duke of Walden nearly died with his neck in a noose.”
“No talk of nooses and death, please. I’ll bring Matilda down to meet the cousins in the family parlor. Say nothing about her, no matter how severely you’re questioned.”
“Bring her down straightaway. Mortal man is helpless to resist Jane’s interrogations.”
“Give me five minutes, and don’t eat all the tea cakes before Matilda and I have a chance at them.”
* * *
Matilda’s instincts were stirring back to life. Not only the instincts of a fugitive, but also the instincts of a chess player. In the middle of a good game, she lost track of time, lost track of her surroundings. She became a mind absorbed in an intellectual challenge. What options had she left her opponent? What would a person of her opponent’s character and experience do with those options?
Did she and Duncan have to leave England? Could she find a way to resolve her difficulties without risking death as a traitor? What had Papa been doing with those plans?