"Is that blood?" Rosalinde cried out.
Celia jerked her gaze from Aiden's face to his arm, where her sister pointed. She gasped as she moved toward him, forgetting for the moment everything except for the fact that he was hurt. He stepped back before he recovered the wound with his handkerchief.
"I was shot at. He stepped in the way and saved my life," Gray said.
Rosalinde made a soft sound of terror in her throat and flew across the room to her husband. "Shot at, Gray? What in the world? Are you injured? Who would do this? Why?" Rosalinde burst out, smoothing her hands over his face, his shoulders, as if to reassure herself that he was well.
How Celia wished to do the same to Aiden, but she didn't move again. She just stared at him, waiting for him to say something, anything. But he just looked at her, his expression dark and sorry.
"That's a lot to cover," Gray said softly, taking Rosalinde's hands. "I'm not injured."
Rosalinde spun on Aiden. "If you saved my husband, I'm in your debt."
"No, you aren't," Aiden finally said, his voice strained. "I'm the reason he was shot at."
Celia's hands began to shake and she clenched them at her sides. "Enough of this. Answer my question. If you aren't the Duke of Clairemont, who are you?"
He bent his head, and there was such a look of pain and defeat on his handsome face that Celia longed to move on him, to wrap her arms around him, to smooth the lines from his face. But even though she didn't understand what was going on at all, she instinctively recognized that time was over. Whatever Aiden was going to say, it would destroy everything she'd hoped for. She didn't feel like she could draw full breath anymore.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice soft in the quiet room. He lifted his gaze and met hers evenly. "It is complicated. I work for the War Department."
Celia shook her head. That meant very little to her. Was Aiden a soldier?
Gray moved toward him, eyes wide. "You're a spy," he said.
"For the crown," Aiden verified, his gaze still on Celia. "My mission had to do with the real Duke of Clairemont. I came to London to masquerade as him."
The room around Celia began to spin and she staggered on her feet. Aiden moved toward her, but Rosalinde rushed past, glaring at him as she caught Celia by the waist and silently guided her to the settee. Celia sank down there, covering her face with both hands as she focused on breathing. If this was a dream, she had to wake up.
But when she pinched herself, nothing happened.
"You owe us a great deal more explanation than that," Rosalinde spat. Her anger was clear in her voice even if Celia didn't lift her head to look at her sister.
"You lied," Celia moaned into her hands. "You lied to me."
"I did." There was something in his even tone that made her look up. She found him staring at her evenly, all the pain on his face seeming very real. "I know you have no reason to believe me now, but I hated every moment I was forced to do so. I had no choice thanks to my case."
"What case?" Gray asked, stepping toward Aiden.
Celia recognized the way his posture went on alert. She'd seen it before, but now she understood it better. He was preparing to fight. Gray didn't seem to care.
"Where is the real Clairemont?" Gray continued. "And why go to these depths, coming into our home and starting this courtship with Celia? Certainly that could have nothing to do with a case-it was only cruelty."
Aiden flinched, and for a brief second, his eyes fluttered shut, like he was trying to find some control over his emotions. Then he looked right at her again and said, "The real Duke of Clairemont is … he's dead."
Celia let out a low sob that was so loud and mournful it surprised even her. She swallowed hard past the bile that had risen in her throat and prayed she wouldn't proceed to be sick on her brother-in-law's office rug in front of the man she loved.
Or was he the man she loved? He looked like him, but now he was telling her he was a lie, nothing but a lie. That everything he'd said or done was a lie.
"Clairemont," came a hard voice from the door.
Everyone turned. There was a tall, thin, older man standing there, Gray's butler behind him. Celia recognized him as the Earl of Stalwood. He was a distinguished member of Society. And he was staring evenly at Aiden.
Aiden almost sagged in relief. "I had hoped you would be at home when my message arrived."
Stalwood jerked out a nod as the butler left them in privacy. He reached behind himself to tug the door shut. "Just barely." He glanced around the room, looking at each of them, and then he frowned deeply. He faced Aiden, their eyes met and a world of communication flowed between them before he said, "Report."
Aiden straightened up, his shoulders coming back, his tone becoming clipped and precise as he said, "Perry was here, he recognized I wasn't Clairemont. Shot at Danford. He escaped after a foot chase through the park."
Gray moved forward. "Do either of you want to bloody well explain what the ever loving fuck is going on?"
Celia flinched at the redness of her brother-in-law's face and the harsh language she knew he would never normally use in front of her or even Rosalinde.
"You don't have to do this," Aiden said softly, his gaze on Stalwood. "You've never broken cover before."
"This case is not average, though, is it? It's more complicated, and I think, this is the best path. For the case. And for you."
Aiden's mouth thinned, and it was clear he was struggling even though Celia didn't understand why. Finally, he waved a hand as if in surrender and turned away.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Danford," Stalwood said, turning toward Gray with an incline of his head. "Clearly you have some information now that Clairemont's identity has been broken. That is why I've come. It's the same reason why I'm going to tell you now what very few know. I work for the War Department, as well."
"He's my handler," Aiden said softly. "He assigns and manages cases for me and several others."
Gray stepped back. He expression was bright with shock. "And are you truly the Earl of Stalwood or did you two kill him, as well?"
Stalwood frowned. "I am the Earl of Stalwood and no one from our department killed the duke, I assure you." He shifted and looked at Rosalinde and Celia. "Perhaps the ladies should step out."
Celia moved on him, her hands clenched at her sides. "I'm not going anywhere, my lord. You and this … this man engaged in a subterfuge that involved me more than anyone else. I have every right to hear the details as much as Gray does."
Gray folded his arms. "I agree. Celia stays if that is what she desires."
She shot him a look of gratitude even as she reached back to find Rosalinde's hand. When her sister's fingers laced through hers, she drew a long, deep breath. "Now, Lord Stalwood, you and Aiden … Clairemont … whoever he is … you owe all of us the whole truth. Please start telling us now."
Clairemont stared at Celia, taking in the way she lifted her chin in defiance, how she held herself with such strength when he could see the tears sparkling in her eyes. He had never loved her more than in this moment, where she stood toe to toe with a wall of lies and deceptions and faced it down like a warrior woman.
Of course, he was also keenly aware that her tears had been caused by him and only him.
Stalwood cleared his throat and drew Clairemont's attention back to him. He had never expected his superior to reveal himself. But he was keenly aware that Stalwood was doing it for him, because of their long and personal relationship. He recognized the power of that and appreciated Stalwood's attempts to help him, even if he feared they would be fruitless.
"Very well, Miss Fitzgilbert," Stalwood said, "if your guardians believe you should be here, I won't dare to argue. First, let me restate that no one in my department killed the Duke of Clairemont. He was bludgeoned to death by an unknown party."
Celia flinched and Clairemont longed to go to her. To take the hand that held Rosalinde's and pull her in, soothe her. But she refused to look at him. It was like he wasn't there at all. She took her strength from her sister now. She no longer wanted him.
"Of course, we had to investigate," Stalwood said, and Clairemont forced his attention back to the very important matters at hand.
He wasn't surprised that Stalwood was giving Danford all the information now that he'd started down that path. They no longer suspected him, and since Gray already knew part of the truth, it was better to give him all and hope he would become an ally. Though judging from Gray's angry expression, Clairemont wasn't certain that was possible.
"Wouldn't that normally be the purveyance of the guard rather than the Department of War?" Gray asked, his voice still hard as steel.
Stalwood inclined his head slightly. "Perhaps under normal circumstances. These were not. What I am about to tell you must never leave this room. Not only was the Duke of Clairemont an important member of Society, but he was … let us say … involved in some damning activities that had attracted our interest for some time."
"You think the real Duke of Clairemont was involved in some kind of treason?" Rosalinde asked, her voice catching.