Page 98 of The King's Man
‘I thought I was lost, Kit.’ She raised her head and looked up at him. ‘Kit, your Lucy is in league with Morton.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I left her in your place in Bedlam.’
Thamsine stared at him and a smile twitched her lips. ‘Good. I hope she rots there. She’s as dangerous as he is. Jane thinks she may have murdered her husband.’
Kit stared at her. ‘Murdered her husband?’
‘She stole some monkshood from Jane.’
‘It wouldn’t surprise me.’ Kit shook his head. ‘I suppose I always knew she was shallow and manipulative, but after the last few days I’ve had a glimpse of what she is capable of and I wouldn’t be surprised if she runs to murder.’
‘What I can’t understand was why she was so possessive of you,’ Thamsine said. ‘She said she knew something about you that made you valuable to her.’
He gave a wry smile. ‘Not as valuable as she would have liked to believe.’
‘What did she mean?’
Kit hesitated. ‘It’s not important,’ he said.
‘Kit.’ She sought his eyes. ‘Please, no more secrets.’
He sighed. ‘She wanted me for a title. My grandfather is Viscount Midhurst, and on his death, I become Lord Midhurst. But that’s all it is, Thamsine, a name, nothing more. The family estate is ruined. I find I prefer being just plain Kit Lovell.’
‘To a woman like Lucy Talbot, that title would be worth fighting for … worth killing for,’ she said aloud.
‘Lucy made the mistake of playing with an experienced gambler, Thamsine. She underestimated me.’ He squatted down and poked at the fire.
‘Where is your family estate?’ she asked.
‘Cheshire. The house was largely destroyed in the last siege, so my family lives in the few habitable rooms and I send them money when I can.’
‘Your family?’
He looked up at her. ‘My grandfather, my stepmother and her daughter, my sister Frances. So you see, little Lucy would have got a poor exchange for the title.’
‘I wonder if that mattered.’ Thamsine mused. ‘And your business in Paris?’
Kit stiffened. ‘An ordeal,’ he said.
‘Something happened there?’
He shook his head. ‘No, not there. On the boat returning to England. Fitzjames is dead.’
At the mention of Fitz’s name, he felt a stab of pain as sharp as a knife. He missed Fitz. He missed their long and easy camaraderie, and he bitterly regretted the betrayal that had led to his friend’s death.
‘I’m sorry,’ Thamsine said. ‘How did it happen?’
Kit jabbed at a log with the poker. ‘He found some letters I was carrying.’
‘Letters for Thurloe?’
Kit gave a barely perceptible nod of the head.
‘You didn’t kill him?’ The horror in Thamsine’s voice couldn’t be disguised.
He turned to look at her. ‘No, I didn’t kill him, but he would have killed me had it not been for the pitching of the boat. He overbalanced and fell overboard. I couldn’t save him.’
He rose to his feet and she slipped off the chair and stood before him. Laying her hands on his forearms she scanned his face. ‘He was your friend, wasn’t he?’
