Free The Marquis At Midnight by Kate Harper Page B

told you, but it is clear you believe I
was in some way responsible for his death.’
    ‘Are you saying you are not?’
    ‘If Pemberton’s death was something other
than an accident, that was entirely his choice.’
    Well there it was. He was denying it. Had
she thought he would do anything else? Grace eyed the marquis with
ill-concealed disgust. ‘He told me a little about your last visit
to him. It was the night before he died.’
    ‘I know. It was a difficult
conversation.’
    ‘I am sure it was. It must have been very
hard to accuse a man you had known for years of being a
traitor.’
    ‘I did nothing of the kind. Justin was not a
traitor, but he was a credulous fool.’
    Grace spoke through clenched teeth. ‘How
dare you! He was a good man.’
    ‘Who trusted the wrong people.’
    ‘He told me...’ Grace stopped, struggling to
master herself. ‘He told me that you had betrayed him. That his
career – that his life - was in ruins because of the lies you had
put about.’
    There was a long silence. Hester had been
looking from one to the other, blue eyes wide.
    For a long moment, Morvyn did not move, did
not speak, and his face was devoid of expression. The only
indication that her words had stung was the way his fingers
tightened around the cup he was holding. ‘When I visited your
husband before his death, it was with a view to giving him an
understanding on why he would no longer be used as a king’s envoy,’
he said at last. ‘I advised him that he was making a mistake with
his… career. But he knew that all ready. I tried to help, but he
did not want my help. And yes, he blamed me for bringing him to
ruin.’
    ‘You lied about him to his peers!’
    Morvyn shook his head. He was still
perfectly composed. ‘I have never told a lie about Pemberton. He
elected to lie to himself, but he knew the truth of the matter well
enough.’
    Grace stared at him, frustrated.
    Not a suicide, but an
accident, or so the coroner had ruled on Justin’s death, but a man
did not go riding a half broken stallion in the middle of a cold
October night dressed only in shirt and breeches if he were in his
right mind and since his last meeting with Morvyn he had not been in his right
mind, but had shut himself away in his library, drinking and
brooding and refusing to talk to his wife until the after the
marquis had departed. The night he’d died. She had pleaded with him
to tell her what was amiss and finally he had risen to his feet and
had paced back and forth, half mad with anger. Morvyn, the man he
had always called friend, had come from the Foreign Office to say
that Justin Pemberton must no longer be used by them as an envoy to
France. That he was not to be trusted.
    The marquis had carried with him a letter
from Lord Abercrombie saying that he no longer required his
services to King and Country.
    Justin had been shattered.
    ‘Lady Pemberton, I was not the only one who
had doubts about what was taking place on his visits to France. I
was merely the one who brought him the news that his services would
no longer be required.’
    ‘But he was an envoy for the Prince Regent.
Good heavens, his mother was French. He had family there. Those
ties were perfectly legitimate.’
    ‘I am aware of that.’
    ‘Oh, really? Because Justin seemed to
believe that you questioned his loyalty to his country.’ Grace bit
off each word, as if saying them out loud was painful.
    ‘Not his loyalty. Never that. But he showed
an unfortunate lack of discretion in other matters.’ Morvyn shifted
uncomfortably in his seat, setting his teacup down. Its fragility
had looked completely out of place in those strong, brown hands.
‘Lady Pemberton, I am sorry if I contributed to your husband’s
death. Having listened to you, I acknowledge that might have been
the case, but I can assure you, Justin was never considered to be
assisting Bonaparte...’
    ‘I should hope not!’
    ‘Nevertheless, he could no longer work for
the Foreign Office. We