“I listened at the door,” she said in a rush. “And I could tell something was wrong. And Eve was in the kitchen, so I told him and he got the Comte—”
“Wait,” Titus said. “Why aren’t you both halfway to France?”
Eve glanced at Alma. Nico met Titus’s eyes. “Because neither of us felt able to say goodbye.”
Alma’s blush intensified. “Anyway, I got them, and I’m afraid we opened your letter, sir.”
“I made that decision,” Nico said. “I knew you would not give the Laxton anything by choice.”
“So Eve said we could get the guns and kick them out,” Alma went on, “but the Comte said it wouldn’t be enough.”
“Baynes wanted the painting too much,” Nico said. “He would not give up, and if he took it and found he had a fake, he would come back for the real thing. He had to see it destroyed, but not blame you, so we needed a story, a performance. Then the good Vespasian arrived, and voilà, we had a cast.”
He had gone French again. Titus could have cried.
“I arrived for tea and was promptly recruited as chief villain,” Vespasian said. “You have the most astonishing household, Titus. And, may I say, hidden depths. I was afraid you might not grasp what was going on—nobody could have blamed you—but you improvised to the manner born. Where were we? The Comte and I agreed on the script, Alma tampered with the wine, your valet became the maid—”
“I’m sure I could have done it,” Alma muttered.
“Laxton would not believe you were always a secret spy for the Bourbons,” Eve pointed out, squeezing her hand. “And your father might find out I put you at risk, and he already hates me. But next time you shall hit the charogne, and welcome.”
“You were both wonderful,” Titus said. He would cherish the memory of Eve giving Laxton a cake platter to the face for the rest of his life. “So you destroyed the painting. And killed Nico—?”
“To shock and confuse,” Nico explained. “People are more easily persuaded when they are discomposed. Laxton and Baynes thought they had seen a murder, so theybelieved in the poisoning. Which you took over magnificently.”
“Well, you had already given me my script.” Titus remembered that silly conversation from before they were lovers; he thought he might remember everything Nico had ever said to him. “Laxton fell for it perfectly. Do you know, when I offered him the fake antidote, the horrible man attempted to drink the whole thing. Baynes had to fight him for it. Serves them both right.”
“It does not at all,” Eve said mutinously. “Baynes would have killed Nico, and Laxton would have killed you, and they have escaped quite free.”
Titus shifted in his seat. “Actually, no, they haven’t. I daresay it was very bad of me, but I didn’t think it would be convincing if they had no symptoms at all.”
“Ah.” Eve smiled at that, a slow, relishing smile that left Titus astonished he hadn’t seen the resemblance to Nico before.
Nico was not smiling. “What did you put in it?” he asked apprehensively.
“Gamboge. Only a trace, but Laxton is going to regret drinking so much of it. I was careless with gamboge once and spent two days feeling like the Fleet sewer.”
Nico winced. “You are ruthless, mon coeur. Never poison anyone again, hmm?”
“It isn’t my habit. None of this is my habit. Masquerading and melodrama and poison and pistols and forgeries—”
“You handled it like a master, brother mine,” Vespasian assured him. “I’m very proud of you.”
“Absolument,” Nico added. “You took your turn at centre stage, unscripted, and you were superb.”
“Because you were here,” Titus said. “Youcame—” His throat dried abruptly.
“Well, I think I should take my leave,” Vespasian said,rising. “Let’s have tea tomorrow, Titus. Or whenever seems convenient. Let me know.”
Eve and Alma rose too. Vespasian and Alma headed out; Eve hesitated. “Monsieur Pilcrow, a moment?”
“Eve—” Nico said.
“No. Monsieur, all this, every part of it, was my idea and my fault. Nico was caught between you and me. The blame is mine.”
“I do understand,” Titus said. “And thank you, but perhaps you should be apologising to Alma, rather than me?”
Eve bowed, an odd effect in the dress. “It is already done, monsieur.”