For Your Arms Only by Linden, Caroline (best fiction books to read .TXT) 📗

printer in London. A little investigation turned up a good bit of money from the printer, most likely for drawings mocking the King and his ministers.”

“You think Stafford wants him found for these drawings?” Angelique asked.

He shrugged. “Perhaps. But why didn’t he set me on the printer from the beginning? It’s much easier to trace a printer than an anonymous artist.”

She acknowledged that with a quick nod.

“With the ledger there was a journal, written in code. Cressida tells me her father was in Spain with Wellington and heard about Bonaparte’s diplomatic cipher, so decided to create his own. The entire journal is written in it. What sort of simple sergeant takes the time and effort to create his own cipher for a private journal?”

The ringing silence was answer enough. Angelique sat forward in her chair. “What is it you think of this simple sergeant?” she asked, ignoring the rest without a word.

“I think he’s not so simple. Even with the printer’s money, his income isn’t enough to support his family in the style he preferred. The man’s got debts all over town, and more in other towns. Cressida admitted he does that; she says he’s got the devil’s own charm and manages to talk his way around everyone. But the ledger indicates the debts were usually paid, eventually. The money just seemed to…appear. There are no entries indicating how he got it, just that he paid it out.”

“I see you have talked your way around this daughter,” Angelique said slyly. “Perhaps you have other motives for finding this sergeant, perhaps an important question you desire to ask him.”

Alec stiffened. “That would be none of your concern, if it was true, and either way it has no bearing on anything I’ve told you.”

She retreated at once, although a wicked smile still curved her lips. “Of course, of course! I only meant to tease. You are always so serious. One must find amusement in this business from time to time.”

Alec waved it away. He hadn’t seen much amusing in this assignment, and he did not want to be teased about his intentions toward Cressida. He leaned back in his seat and drummed his fingers on his knee. He wouldn’t mention this possibility to Cressida, but he needed to tell someone. It was beginning to eat at him, for a multitude of reasons, but perhaps Angelique could see a flaw in the idea. He devoutly wished she would. “I wonder if Turner might be blackmailing people,” he said abruptly.

The smile vanished from Angelique’s face. She tilted her head, studying him closely. “Have you proof?”

“No.”

Her eyebrow arched. “It is a large accusation to make.”

“I know.” Alec dug his fingers into the tight muscles at the back of his neck. “I would have suspected bribes, but Turner has no authority or power that would invite them. I suppose it could be theft, undertaken on his various expeditions, or forgery. He seems too memorable a personage to manage those, though; by all accounts he stands out in a crowd.”

Angelique was tapping one finger against her lower lip. “What is in this journal? Have you found any evidence that would support your idea?”

“Cressida’s begun working on it.” Alec smiled ruefully. “I haven’t the patience for ciphering. Never had. But still, it’s not the sort of thing you’d leave proof of, would you? Not unless you were a bloody idiot or the most arrogant fool alive.”

She lifted her shoulders. “One must have proof in order to extort a good sum, so if you are correct, it must lie somewhere. You have searched the house, of course.”

“Not a thorough search,” he admitted. “They’ve lost the lease for lack of funds and…well…Julia’s gone and invited them to stay here.”

The knowing look she gave him made Alec want to scowl and scold her. It had been Julia who invited the Turners…even if he had deliberately mentioned their distress in front of Julia. Even if he had already kissed Cressida and invited her to stay at Penford. Even if his heart quickened and his blood heated at the thought of Cressida potentially around every corner he approached. He was drawn to her, no matter how he fought it, and he feared his restraint was crumbling against the constant press of that desire. It had been so long since he truly cared about a woman, Alec had almost forgotten it was possible.

But Angelique seemed to understand that this was not the moment to make sport of him. She simply smiled. “See what is in the journal,” she said instead. “Perhaps it will explain the money.”

“Of course.” It would also give him an excuse for closer proximity to Cressida. Alec tried to quell the fierce surge of exultation at the prospect.

“Is that all?”

He closed his eyes. “No,” he muttered, hating the word. “There is a possibility that Turner is dead.”

“’Tis always a possibility,” said Ian. “The man’s been gone—what?—five months? It doesn’t take but a minute to put a knife in someone’s back.”

“You have a suspect,” said Angelique softly. “Who? And why?”

Alec hesitated again. He wished they had not come, not yet. “Turner’s eldest daughter is newly engaged to his man, Thomas Webb. Webb came home from the army with Turner and has been with the family ever since. The daughter was married once before, to a man who beat her. Cressida said…she told me her father blessed that marriage because it would keep Webb from having her sister. And that Webb knew it.”

“That is suspicion, nothing more.”

“Of course not,” Alec snapped. “But it is a possibility. Webb has never seemed particularly keen to find Turner. Every time I spoke to him about the man, he put me off or said he knew nothing.”

“Would you be eager, in his place?” Angelique shrugged. “Perhaps he views it as Divine Providence. You said they were recently engaged, but the lady has no fortune and no great breeding; perhaps it is nothing other than desperate love. If he has been waiting for years while she was married