***
"We only have a few minutes," Orlando said. "So talk."
"Is that how you get your women to open up?" Hughe asked. He wore a tall hat with more feathers on it than a bird and his doublet was embroidered with a silvery feather pattern. The outfit took ridiculous to a new level and Orlando would have teased him if they'd had more time.
"Shut it, Hughe," he warned.
"You're in a fine mood."
Orlando had to grudgingly admit, if only to himself, that he was. Seeing the bunch of marigolds on Phillip's grave had given him an unexpected gut-ache. Susanna rarely spoke about either of her husbands, but clearly she cared enough for her second one to tend his grave. Aside from the flowers, the marble headstone was clean, the weeds removed. It shouldn't bother him—the man had been her husband and was now very dead for God's sake. But it did.
"Someone will come soon," he said. "Believe me, my absence will be noticed today of all days."
"I heard the gossip. Bewitched, are you?"
Cole grunted from where he kept watch near a tree. "Makes a nice change."
"Just don't go leaving us like Rafe," Hughe said. "We can't cope with any more rejection, can we, Cole?"
"My heart's bleeding," Cole said blandly, without turning around.
"It's not a jest," Orlando snapped. "And I'm not leaving the Guild. Why in God's name would I want to do that?" He glanced past Cole toward the old stone church perched atop the rise. Parishioners milled about and he could just make out Susanna among them.
Was she enduring more of that malicious talk? Walter Cowdrey ought to have kept his sister home.
He ached to go to her and whisk her away but he needed to speak to Hughe and Cole. "Tell me what you found out about Susanna's first husband. How did he die?"
"Natural causes," Hughe said, suddenly serious and speaking quickly. "He ate too much, drank to excess, and suffered from melancholy after losing his fortune. Apparently he was also saddened that his beautiful wife didn't give him heirs."
"It wasn't her fault," Orlando growled. "Her second husband got a child upon her."
Hughe waved his hand. "So I think we can safely conclude Lady Lynden is innocent of murder."
Orlando blew out a breath. He already knew it, but hearing Hughe say it with such certainty meant that he would not try to eliminate her without Orlando's knowledge.
"So we're left with the question, who hired us to kill her and why?"
And would they hire someone else if the Guild refused?
"Monk," Orlando said. "The stranger up at Sutton Hall...he's definitely hiding something." He told them about the letter from Lord Whipple in Monk's pack and the one in Lynden's study, as well as Monk's wanderings around Stoneleigh.
"Whipple?" Hughe pursed his lips. "Interesting. You think this man Monk has been hired by Lynden to find something at Stoneleigh?"
"At Whipple's insistence, yes. It must be some incriminating papers, or why else would the earl be involved? The letter did say something about Lynden's cousin, Susanna's second husband."
Hughe began to pace, churning up the muddy earth and damp leaf matter with his blue velvet shoes. Not that Hughe would care. Later, back at the inn, he would make a show of caring and Cole would have to clean them. Picturing his big, serious friend stooping to cleaning another man's shoes would ordinarily make Orlando laugh, but not today.
"I don't think any of them are our client," Cole said. "The timing is wrong. Monk arrived here the same time you did, Orlando. If our client is watching, he would not have known that you wavered then. Perhaps now, however..."
"I agree," Orlando said. "Then why is he here? Is Susanna innocently involved in a Catholic plot?"
Hughe continued to pace. "She must be," he said. "Or her husband was. Monk's been looking through her papers, disturbing the letters that were sent to her from her grower on the Continent. Correct?"
"I believe so."
"Not love letters or other correspondence from Phillip?"
Orlando's gut knotted. "Not that I am aware."
"Letters from the Continent, a known Catholic sympathizer in Whipple... It must be the correspondence between them that Monk is trying to find, and most likely it's of a treasonous nature. But why involve Lynden? Was he Catholic?"
"Susanna didn't think so."
Hughe shook his head and resumed his pacing.
"Whatever the reason," Orlando said, "there is a letter incriminating Whipple or Lynden or both in Susanna's possession and that's why they desperately want it back."
"In which case, she must surely have read it by now and have grown suspicious."
"Not necessarily," Orlando said. "It could have been written in lemon juice."
"You say Monk has taken nothing from Susanna's belongings?" Hughe asked. "Not a single letter?"
"It appears they've just been trifled with but nothing was taken."
"I wonder why."
"Because what he wanted wasn't there." Oh. Hell. "The building plans."
"The what?"
"Plans for building a structure over her orange trees to protect them. Monk and I erected the foundations yesterday. He seemed interested in the plans, asking her who'd sent them, pouring over them more than necessary."
"As if he was attempting to read the invisible lemon juice writing." Hughe nodded. "So where are the plans now?"
"Susanna has them."
"Good. I think we should confront Monk."
"I'll do it after I escort Susanna back to Stoneleigh. I'm not leaving her alone and vulnerable, Hughe, no matter what."
"Agreed."
Cole glanced at them over his shoulder. "You need to protect orange trees? What's the point of growing them if they need protection? What's wrong with good English trees?"
"Shut it, Cole, and keep look-out," Orlando said. "Hughe, there's one other thing."
Cole looked back toward the church and swore. "Your lover is walking this way."
Orlando pulled Hughe further into the shadows. "Next time wear green and brown to blend in."
"Green and brown clash horribly," Hughe said, putting on his dandy's tone. "I wouldn't be caught dead wearing those colors together."
"Don't tempt me." He glanced back the way they'd come but he couldn't see Cole through the thick foliage. "I want to tell Susanna about my reason for being here."
"No."
"I won't mention the Guild or you."
"No!"
"Hughe." Orlando gripped his friend's arms. "I need to tell her. She's already suspicious about my presence. If she finds out more, if she discovers I'm lying..." He shook his head. How could he explain it when he wasn't even sure why he needed to break his vow of secrecy? He blew out a breath. A few more moments and she would be with them. There was no time to think anymore, he just had to say it uncensored. "I've already lost her as my lover. I don't want to lose her friendship too."
Orlando could feel Hughe tense. The cool, pale gaze sharpened. "Listen to me," Hughe said and Orlando had never heard such gloom in his friend's voice. "If you so much as hint to her about your work, you will have to leave the Guild. I can allow no compromises, no half-truths, nothing. The lives of all of us, yourself included, depends on our secrecy."
"She wouldn't tell a soul."
Hughe shook his head. "Do not make me remove you, Orlando. It really would break my heart."
Orlando didn't know whether he meant remove him from the Guild or from the land of the living, nor did he want to find out. He had seen how ruthless Hughe could be and he didn't want to force his hand.
"I want your promise, Orlando."
When Orlando dropped his hands away and hesitated, Hughe grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, hard. "Promise me," he ground out.
If Orlando disobeyed, there would be no more Guild for him. He would need to find work elsewhere, perhaps even return to London. No, he could never do that. Never face Thomas or his wife May again. Whatever he did, he was unlikely to find the sort of job that offered a
s much freedom as the Guild did.
"I promise," he finally said.
Hughe let go and wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. "No good can come of her knowing anyway."
"She comes," Cole whispered, slipping silently through the trees to join them.
Hughe and Cole disappeared deeper into the stand of trees. Orlando blew out a measured breath just as Susanna's soft footsteps thudded over the damp ground.
"Orlando? Are you there?"
"Here." He forced a smile when he saw her, but inside he felt so angry he wanted to hit something. Hughe's face came to mind. Those sharp cheekbones would make a satisfying crack under his fist.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, looking past him.
"Relieving myself."
She gasped. "In church grounds?"
"Is that against the law?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. They looked tired, with more small lines radiating from the corners than before. "It could be."
"I'm not sure these trees are even on church land. They're some distance away." He ducked under her hat and kissed her forehead because no one was looking and he just bloody well wanted to. Hughe might be able to control what Orlando could and couldn't say, but he was damned if he'd let anyone tell him to stop kissing her.
"Orlando," she warned. "Don't. What if someone saw?"
"There's no one here."
"What about those other men? The gentleman and his servant?"
"Were they relieving themselves too?"
She gave him a withering look. "Do not pretend you didn't see them. I know you met them in here. Why?"
"Susanna, don't fret. You've been through an ordeal and are hearing and seeing things that aren't there." He moved past her so he didn't have to see the skepticism in her eyes. "Let's go."
"No."
He doubled back. "Is everything all right?"
She nodded past him to the church. "I'll return the way I came, but you must go in the opposite direction. We cannot be seen together. If you walk through these trees, you'll come to the main road leading out of the village. We'll pick you up as we pass."
He nodded and touched her cheek. It was cold. "Are you all right?"
She blinked rapidly up at him but it didn't hide the sheen of tears. "I don't understand why...why they hate me so."
He folded her into his arms and held her against his chest. If she cried, she made no sound or movement. He couldn't even hear her breathing. After a moment she stepped away.
"I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."
"Susanna, if you need me, I'll not be far. Understand? Things may have changed between us, but you can trust me." Except for when I must lie.
"Thank you," she said, rather formally. She smoothed down her skirt, nodded once and walked back the way she'd come.
He watched her leave. Did she truly not know why Margaret Cowdrey wanted to make her as miserable as she was? Did Susanna not know how beautiful she was, and how jealous that could make other women?
It seemed so remarkable, yet he was beginning to think she didn't.