Page 39 of Wicked Queen

“I’m sorry about that.”

He shrugged. “Teenagers.”

He wasn’t wrong.

I stood and started toward my offices. This was definitely a visit that needed to remain private. Norris took his leave to check in with the staff.

We shut the door behind us and I reached for the Scotch.

“Thank you for meeting me.” It was an overly formal greeting given our history, but Smith Price tended to put me on edge. I knew enough about the man to know we had similar predilections, but that was where our similarities ended. We’d been bred for very different lives. Him to cover others’ sins and me to pay for them.

Smith took the drink I offered him. He swirled it around the glass thoughtfully. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“If you want out, say the word.”

He had been an integral part of my plan to find out who was behind the attacks that claimed my father’s life and threatened my family. His actions had nearly cost him his own life, but he was no loyal servant to the crown. An ally, perhaps. I’d never go so far as to say a friend. As far as I could tell, he was a bad guy who’d developed a conscience. I hadn’t fully trusted him until he became involved with Clara’s best friend. I knew better than most that love changed a man. When his role put her in danger, he’d still seen it through. Perhaps he knew, as I did, that he wouldn’t sleep until we’d rooted out this evil.

“Clara knows,” I warned him. “She may tell Belle.” My instinct had been to keep the news from Clara, but actually telling her was easier than I’d expected.

“I wouldn’t keep this from her. I thought we’d put this behind us,” he admitted, showing an unusual amount of vulnerability.

So had I. Only a month ago, Oliver Jacobson had sat in a jail cell levelling impotent threats at me. Now he was a free man. “It’s my fault. I assumed Parliament would see how dangerous he was.”

“They have a confession,” Smith said. He’d been privy to it. It wasn’t technically ethical to share it, but he’d earned seeing it.

“They now claim it was given under duress.” I’d followed the rules and been rewarded with accusations. Many times I’d imagined what I would do when I got my hands on the man who had tried to take Clara from me. I wanted to squeeze the life out of him slowly, to enjoy watching it ebb away. Somehow, despite keeping my hands to myself, I was the one being punished. If I’d had it to do over, there would be nothing left of Jacobson to walk free.

“Parliament was never going to see it for what it was,” Smith said. “They can’t admit that one of them turned. It would make the rest of them look bad.”

But it wasn’t only Parliament that had failed us. “I thought once the news broke, the public opinion would swing in our favour.”

I’d been very wrong about that. The press had painted the whole thing as an overreach by the monarchy, and me as a man hell-bent on avenging his father’s death. It might have been my duty to, but my motives were entirely different. “I guess Albert wasn’t terribly popular.”

“And Jacobson is,” Smith grumbled.

“You met him before. What was he like?” I’d been completely unaware of the man until we’d uncovered his name. On paper he was the last person anyone would suspect.

“He made a few digs at your lot, but he seemed alright. Then again, he was doting on Belle’s mother and she’s a heinous woman. I didn’t suspect him, but I didn’t trust him, either,” he added.

“But did he seem capable of this?” He’d grown up poor and risen through the ranks of Parliament. He’d put himself through University and earned chart marks. He contributed to charitable organizations. Frankly, he was boring.

“No, and that’s always given me pause. Otherwise he would have a bullet in his head,” Smith admitted, confirming a suspicion I’d had for a while.

“I’ll admit I was surprised when we took him alive.” I’d done Smith the courtesy of dropping the name before we went for him. I wasn’t certain if we’d find Jacobson dead or alive, but I would have bet on the latter.

“You nearly didn’t.” Smith’s eyes were cold emeralds as he levelled them at me. “Were you hoping I would?”

I should deny it. Even now, was I really certain I could trust Smith Price? He’d ratted out one ally and he was no fan of mine. The feeling was mutual. But my gut told me I could, because we both had something irreplaceable at stake in this game.

Instead, I shrugged. “Sometimes. It would have been an easier mess to clean up.”

“And now he’s untouchable. There might be ways…”

“Anything would be questioned. God help us, if that man hung himself tonight in front of an audience, they’d call it murder.” I never thought I’d be a man who coolly discussed such matters, like a business transaction. That it was so easy made me feel uncomfortable.

“If killing him is out, it would help if we could pin the bombing on him.” Smith appeared to have no hesitation, either, though I wondered if he’d always been that type of man.

“It won’t matter. He was sitting in a jail cell during that symposium. That’s all anyone sees. But he knew it happened,” I told Smith, recalling the blood-chilling satisfaction on Jacobson’s face when he discussed it. “He asked me what had happened, but he knew. He may not have ordered it, but he knew it was going to happen.”