don’t know.”
Sebastian studied the major’s sharp-boned profile, lit now by a pattern of dancing lights reflecting off the rough waters of the river below. “You didn’t see Crispin that night—the night he died?”
“No. I hadn’t seen him since I told him Chantal was playing with him—using him. Like I said, he was furious with me.”
“How long between when you spoke to Nicholas and when he went to confront Chantal?”
“I don’t know precisely, but it wasn’t long.”
“Did you tell the authorities about this?”
“Good God, no.” The Scotsman looked genuinely shocked.
“Why not? Nicholas’s life was at stake. He could easily have been hanged. As it was, they shipped him off to a living hell.”
McHenry’s hands curled around the balustrade before him. “Nicholas begged me not to. He didn’t want it known that Crispin had killed himself, and the Earl was convinced that if Nicholas was convicted of anything, it would be manslaughter. Not murder.”
“That’s why Nicholas claimed he and the Count were arguing, but refused to say what the argument was about? Because he was protecting his dead brother?”
“Yes.”
“Noble young fool,” said Sebastian, half to himself. “And Compans refused to acknowledge the argument because he didn’t want to admit his wife had a habit of playing the coquette.”
“Yes.”
Sebastian turned to look out over the sun-sparkled river. The barges had all come out from beneath the bridge now and were slowly making their regal way down the river. The music from the barge carrying a German band floated back to them on the gusting breeze. After a moment, he said, “Who do you think killed Nicholas Hayes?”
McHenry’s nostrils had taken on an odd, pinched look. “When I went to see Nicholas in prison after he was arrested, he told me his cousin, Ethan—now the Earl of Seaforth—was the one who betrayed him.”
“I know.”
“So maybe Seaforth killed him.”
“Is he capable of such a thing, do you think?”
“Seaforth? I don’t know if he’s capable of personally stabbing someone in the back, but I can easily imagine him hiring someone to do it for him. He’s always been a sneaky son of a bitch.”
“How well do you know him?”
“Not terribly well, but enough to know that. I mean, he used the authorities to try to kill Nicholas eighteen years ago, didn’t he?”
“He did. So why would Seaforth hire someone to kill Nicholas now? If Seaforth knew Nicholas Hayes was back in London, why not simply inform on him and let the Crown hang him? Why go through all the bother and expense of hiring someone to murder him?”
“That I can’t answer. Except that some people looked askance at Ethan eighteen years ago for informing on his cousin. If it came out that he’d done it again, and with both Lucas and the old Earl now dead? Everyone would be saying he did it the first time to get his hands on the title and the estates and then did it again to make certain he was able to keep what wasn’t rightfully his. He’d be blackballed from society forever, wouldn’t he? Well, wouldn’t he?”
“Probably,” said Sebastian. The barges were growing smaller and smaller in the distance, the men, women, and children on the bridge talking excitedly and laughing and calling to one another as the crowd began to disperse. Sebastian brought his gaze back to the man beside him. “Tell me this: Did you lie with the Countess de Compans?”
A betraying line of color rode high on the major’s cheeks. “And if I did?”
“Did Crispin, do you think?”
McHenry hesitated a moment, then nodded.
“What if Crispin didn’t actually throw himself into the Thames that stormy night? What if Compans pushed him?”
“He wouldn’t,” McHenry said quickly.
“Why not? Crispin was cuckolding him.”
“Compans didn’t care.”
“That’s a bit difficult to believe.”
“They were . . . a strange couple. I could never understand them.”
“If LaRivière didn’t care, then why the fight with Nicholas Hayes?”
The major turned his face away to gaze down at the now-empty river, his throat working as he swallowed. “I don’t know. I can’t explain exactly what happened that night. All I know is that it didn’t play out the way LaRivière claimed. And if you want to find out who killed Nicholas, I suspect you need to remember that.”
Chapter 33
J i watched the barges from a wharf near the grim, looming fortress Hayes had called the Tower of London.
The River Thames was a wonder to Ji. The waterways and canals of Canton were filled with vessels of every description—junks, chop boats, sampans, coffin boats, leper boats, and endless