She bit her lip in a way that could easily distract him, despite what he’d just said. “I hope it was nothing I said.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t. But I’m afraid I will not be able to join you for the evening meal as I hoped. Pembroke has ordered me to attend him.”

“Is there a problem?”

There wouldn’t be if Alex didn’t suspect her cousin was the spy.

He didn’t want to lie to her so instead he just said, “I suspect he is wondering about my progress in uncovering the person who has been passing important information to Bruce.”

“And are you any closer?”

The question was asked with polite interest—nothing more. But something about that bothered him. Perhaps it was the contrast with the impassioned discussion they’d had a short while ago. This almost sounded careful.

Did she suspect her cousin as well? Did she know something?

He hoped to hell not.

His gaze fixed on hers as if he could force her to reveal her thoughts. But she stared at him blankly, and he prayed, guilelessly.

“I’m not sure,” he answered.

“That sounds promising.”

Again, polite interest. Careful polite interest.

“Not as promising as I’d hoped,” he said ambiguously if truthfully. He sure as hell had never expected a woman—let alone her cousin—to be involved in this when he’d offered his help to defray suspicion from himself.

It put him in an awkward position. As was made clear when he faced Pembroke a short while later in his private solar.

“You left on your ‘errand’ before you filled me in on the leads you were following,” the vaunted English commander said, not hiding his continued annoyance at Alex’s leaving the castle to find the king.

As Alex had already offered his apologies and explanation, he ignored the thinly veiled reprimand.

“What did you find out?” Pembroke finished.

Alex cursed. His duty was clear. He should tell Pembroke what he’d learned about the spy being a woman. But if he did that there was every chance the earl would suspect Joan—as Alex had. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him his suspicions that it was Margaret. As much as he despised subterfuge, even if Alex was certain it was her, he wouldn’t condemn Joan’s cousin to prison—or worse—especially when he wasn’t sure of Joan’s involvement.

Lies, subterfuge, treachery, and dishonor . . . these were exactly the things he’d sought to avoid, damn it. Yet here he was wallowing in them again.

Honor and loyalty demanded an answer Alex wasn’t going to give. His line in the sand was moving. “Unfortunately, the leads I was following were less promising than I thought.”