What a Lady Most Desires by Lecia Cornwall Page B

men—­my fellow officers—­think that I stole from them?”
    â€œI went to see them, Stephen. Moore was gravely wounded. He identified the portrait and the ring as his before he died,” Nicholas said. “The others added to the list of items that had gone missing over the past weeks, though none of those things were found in your quarters. Some wondered if you’d already sold them, or if you had an accomplice.”
    Nicholas had been his closest companion in battle, his oldest friend, yet he sounded as if he believed Stephen was guilty. They’d gotten drunk together, rode together, and fought together. Yet now there wasn’t a hint of warmth in Nicholas’s voice.
    â€œDo you believe this is true?” Stephen asked again. Nicholas didn’t reply. The darkness grew suffocating.
    â€œThe investigation has brought a number of other things to light. Not precisely accusations, but damning nonetheless, since they speak to your character,” Fairlie said. “Major Lord Harry Capdale spoke out, for example. He is a close friend of Lord Charles Stewart, Lord Castlereagh’s brother. He was in Vienna while you were there. D’you remember him?”
    â€œOf course,” Stephen said. Stewart had been in charge of security for the British delegation, though he’d spent more time drinking and causing trouble. Capdale had been his favorite companion in debauchery. Stewart had wanted Julia Leighton, and when he couldn’t have her, he’d made trouble for Stephen, since Julia was in his employ as companion to Stephen’s sister.
    â€œCapdale said that you had been implicated in the theft of some jewels that belonged to Lady Castlereagh, that you’d routinely gone outside your duties to consort with ladies of loose morals, thieves, and brigands in Vienna. Once the rumors of your alleged crimes here in Brussels came out, Capdale began to spread those tales to anyone who’d listen,” Fairlie said. “It’s brought others forward. Your fellow officers describe you as taciturn, unsociable, and furtive.”
    Stephen silently cursed Stewart’s name, and Capdale’s. Stephen had bested Stewart, helped Castlereagh foil a plot by the French to discredit the English. Yes, it had involved the theft of some documents, and it was true that Julia Leighton had been in his employ because her father had disowned her for ruining her reputation with Thomas Merritt, a jewel thief of some renown. But both Julia and Merritt had assisted the Crown out of some very sticky trouble, and Stephen had helped. It had been a secret mission, an honorable mission, and even if Stewart knew some of the particulars of the adventure, he was obviously not aware of the entire truth, which remained classified. Stephen could not reveal the details, even now.
    â€œWill there be a court-­martial?” Stephen asked, his jaw tight.
    â€œYou aren’t denying any of this?” Fairlie asked him. “Even the theft?”
    â€œOf course I’m denying it!”
    â€œCan you defend yourself against the charges?” Fairlie asked.
    â€œOf course I can. Where’s Sergeant Hallet? One look at me should convince him he’s named the wrong man.”
    â€œI’m still looking for him. The hospitals are full, and many men are recovering in private houses.” Nicholas said. “Some have already been sent on to Antwerp. I’ve sent someone to inquire there. Are you missing any personal belongings? It might help prove you aren’t the thief.”
    Stephen frowned. “I hadn’t thought to check, and I can hardly do so now. I carry my watch with me. There’s a portrait of Dorothea among my belongings, but nothing terribly valuable.”
    Nicholas pressed something into Stephen’s hand. “Your watch was found in your tunic, along with a purse of coins.”
    Stephen clutched the watch tightly, let the metal warm in his palm.