Alyssa Everett (19 page)

Actually, there was a great deal to be said for being a duke’s son, even in my case. My father had already visited twice the day before, once to introduce Sir Francis and then again to furnish me with a few creature comforts. He’d brought me books, clean linen and a flask of brandy. He’d even given me brief news of Barbara.

“She came to see me, you know,” he’d said. “She and Teddy informed me of your arrest. She’s quite out of the common.”

She was quite out of the common, but hearing him say so had been bittersweet, given the change in my circumstances. “Did she seem much upset?”

“Most painfully upset, but striving for all the world not to show it.”

“Yes, that sounds like Barbara.”

Now my father stood with my mother drooping against him, doing his best to help me convince her that my imprisonment amounted to little more than a youthful adventure. “How did your interview with Sir Francis go?” he asked in a bracing tone.

“Well enough. He says the case may hinge on whether Lady Helen Jeffords can be persuaded to recant her testimony from the inquest. That’s the principal circumstance linking me to the first murder, and if someone else killed Sam Garvey, it stands to reason that same person most likely killed the newspaper editor too, given that both victims died in the same fashion.” I looked to my mother. “I need you to do me a great favor, Mama, if you would.”

She lifted her head from my father’s shoulder. “Oh, anything, Ben dear! Anything!”

“You recall my mentioning Lady Barbara Jeffords? I’d like to speak with her.”

My mother’s anxious face brightened. “So you do have a
tendre
for her. Oh, I hoped you might. I’ve been wishing for such a long time now that you would meet a nice girl and settle down. And your uncle Daventry tells me Lady Barbara has good hips and should give you lots of healthy chil—”

“Never mind what Daventry says,” my father interrupted. “Ben has something he wishes to ask you.”

“Yes, of course.” My mother turned earnest eyes my way.

“You mustn’t go telling Lady Barbara I have a
tendre
for her, Mama.” I did my best to sound stern. “I simply need you to bring her here to see me, since I doubt her father would allow her to come to Newgate unchaperoned.”

“Of course, dear, if you wish it. I’ll send her a note the instant I arrive home.”

I thanked my mother with a thin smile. It had taken all my resolve to push for Barbara’s visit. Though a selfish part of me longed to see her again, the rest of me dreaded the interview. I couldn’t offer for Barbara from a prison cell, but I couldn’t honorably leave things the way they were, either.

News of my arrest was already splashed across every paper in London. Though I hated the thought of exposing Barbara to public insult—having dealt for most of my life with unsavory rumors, I knew how painful it could be—I might still have asked it of her if I could be sure I would clear my name in the end. After all, if any woman alive possessed mettle enough to face down scandal, that woman was Barbara.

But I wasn’t at all confident I’d get through this. What if the worst should happen? What if I wound up convicted and condemned to hang? I didn’t want her mourning me, haunted for the rest of her days by memories of my execution. And a girl like Barbara
would
mourn. She was too loyal and too principled not to, especially given her sister’s role in the case against me. The more hope I held out of a future together, the harder it was going to be for her to go on with her life if that future never came.

Thank God I hadn’t yet made an actual declaration. For Barbara’s own good, the only honorable thing to do was to break it off with her as cleanly and quickly as possible, before our dealings grew any more serious. Then no matter what happened to me, she’d still have her future ahead of her, unfettered by grief and regret. At worst, I’d be a brief, unpleasant memory, a minor bump on her road to happiness.

My mother glanced about the cell again and her eyes slowly filled with tears. Instead of giving in to them, however, she blinked and said valiantly, “Now that I’ve had a better look at this place, Ben, dear, I begin to think you’ll be quite comfortable after all.”

Oh, Lord. For once,
she
was trying to ease
my
mind. Just how bad was the case against me? What had Sir Francis told my parents about my chances? “I’m sure I will be, Mama.”

“Yes.” Her voice broke on the single syllable, and she covered her face with her hands. She stifled a sob. “Do excuse me. I must have something in my eye.”

She turned to flee, only to come up against the iron bars.

I made a move to comfort her, but my father was already there. “Guard!” he called over my mother’s head.

With shuffling footsteps, the turnkey reappeared.

“Pray take Her Grace to the governor’s quarters,” my father said in a voice that brooked no argument. To my mother, he added, “I’ll be along presently, Margaret, once I’ve had a quick word with Ben.”

She nodded mutely, choking back tears, and followed the turnkey out.

My father faced me, his expression grim. “A great deal depends on Lady Helen’s testimony.”

“Yes.” My fate might as well have depended on the weather. Barbara’s sister was just as unpredictable, and every bit as beyond my control.

“Your mother and Lawson can testify they saw you at home that night. Unfortunately, Sir Francis believes juries are inclined to discount an alibi when it’s furnished by the devoted parent of the accused, and a loyal servant is only marginally more convincing. Besides, it’s possible to argue you left the library unnoticed between the time your mother saw you arrive and the time Lawson delivered Teddy’s message about the murder.” My father paced the length of my cell. “We’ll need Lady Helen’s cooperation if we’re to clear your name. I know the girl is being blackmailed, and I know there’s another man involved. It would help enormously to know why and who.”

It would also help enormously if I could walk through iron bars or command a pardon from the king. Unfortunately, the world didn’t work that way. “So Barbara told you the whole story, did she? Unfortunately, I haven’t the faintest notion whom Lady Helen was seeing. She didn’t confide in Teddy, and she hasn’t told Barbara, either.”

At the bitter edge in my voice, my father slanted a questioning glance in my direction. “Is anything amiss between you and Lady Barbara? I sensed a certain lack of enthusiasm when you asked your mother to bring her here.”

“Nothing’s amiss, except that I’m accused of two murders, her sister is the pivotal witness against me, and just when I’d begun to think I’d found the girl with whom I’m meant to spend the rest of my life, it appears I have no future at all.”

My father set a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Try not to lose heart, Ben.”

I twisted free of his touch.
Try not to lose heart
was easier said than done. Alone in my cell, I’d had too many idle hours in which to rehearse my you’re-better-off-without-me speech for Barbara. I’d had too many hours, too, in which to imagine my fate if I failed to prove my innocence—hearing the sentence pronounced, counting down the days and then the hours until my death, the executioner fitting the white bag over my head, the noose around my neck, the trap door opening...

When my father remained silent, I realized how ungratefully I was behaving. This time, none of my troubles were his fault. I cleared my throat. “Mama seems to be bearing up better than I expected.”

He nodded. “She’d be pleased to hear you say that. She wouldn’t want to add to your cares.”

And I hated adding to my mother’s. How would she endure it if, after all her years of doting overprotection, I ended up swinging at the end of a rope? She had no one to look after but me. For that matter, neither did my father—at least, he had no other heir to take my place. If I died without a son of my own, the dukedom would likely die with me.

Was that the reason behind his concern? No father wants his son and heir branded a felon, of course, but he hadn’t simply sent representatives like Sir Francis to meet with me. He’d called personally, three times in just two days. He looked worried sick too, a surprising reaction from a man who put his own inclinations ahead of the family honor and reputation. And to my surprise, I appreciated his visits. In the years since I’d first learned the truth about my father, I’d forgotten how capable and coolheaded he could be.

The guard’s footsteps approached, and my father straightened. “I’ll speak to the turnkey about providing you with tea this evening.”

“Thank you, sir, but that isn’t necessary—”

“It’s necessary if your mother is to enjoy any peace of mind.” He smiled faintly. “Which means it’s also necessary if I’m to enjoy a single moment of peace myself.”

That wrung a wry laugh from me. “I see your point.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow, Ben.” For a moment he looked as if he would have liked to set his hand on my shoulder again, but he evidently thought better of it and turned to take his leave.

I went to the door of my cell and stared out the iron bars, listening as his footsteps died away. I was glad he’d been frank with me about my chances. He was right about my needing Lady Helen’s cooperation.

Next time perhaps he’d be able to stay a little longer.

I dropped down on my cot, surprised that his visits had become the high point of my days.

Chapter Eighteen

Barbara

“I don’t see how you can expect me to change my testimony,” Helen said as I drew on my stockings, readying myself for the Duchess of Ormesby’s arrival. “Why should I put myself out for Teddy’s cousin when Teddy broke off our engagement? Am I supposed to be the only person in the world who’s miserable?”

“Helen, be reasonable.” We’d been having this same conversation for the past day and a half. “This is Ben’s
life
we’re talking about. You know he hadn’t the slightest acquaintance with Sam Garvey. Besides, I thought you wanted me to be happy.”

“That was when I was going to be happy too. Now I’ll be an old maid, and it’s all because of Beningbrough and his pigheaded family.” Before I could protest, she raged on, “And Papa feels exactly as I do. He says now that Beningbrough is in prison we should wash our hands of the lot of them.”

I’d heard the same lecture from Papa myself, when I’d shown him the duchess’s invitation to accompany her to Newgate. It had taken more than an hour of wheedling to convince him to allow me to go. Only my mother’s unexpected support, apparently offered because Cliburne’s defection raised the alarming specter she could end up with
two
unmarriageable daughters on her hands, had managed to turn the tide. “Please don’t say such things in front of the duchess when she arrives to collect me.”

Helen fumed. “Don’t worry, my manners are better than that. But I’ll be thinking them just the same!”

Since learning Cliburne had cried off, Helen had been as crotchety as a hornet in a hatbox. With a heroic effort, I’d managed to resist the urge to respond in kind, mostly by reminding myself that Ben’s acquittal depended on her goodwill. Besides, I understood her sulks better than most. I’d had all my adult life to adjust to being passed over like cold mutton, but for Helen it must have come as an ugly shock.

Sighing, I chose two pairs of gloves from my chest of drawers and held them up for her inspection. “Which looks better with this gown and this spencer, the York tan or the lemon kid?”

“What difference does it make?” After a moment, clearly unable to resist an appeal to her fashion sense, she said sullenly, “The tan gloves are better with that blue.”

“Then the tan it is.” I wasn’t used to currying Helen’s favor, but there was little I wouldn’t do to aid Ben’s cause.

She tossed her head. “Too bad such refinements will be lost on a clodpole like Beningbrough.”

Ignoring this last shot, I gathered up my reticule and my bonnet and started downstairs to await the duchess’s arrival. Helen, apparently at a loss for company now that she had no gentleman present to dance attendance on her, trailed listlessly after me.

As usual, Frye was manning the front door. “I’m expecting the Duchess of Ormesby,” I told him. “Watch for her carriage, and send to the morning room the instant you see it. I shouldn’t wish to keep Her Grace waiting.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

I started away, but Frye cleared his throat in an apparent bid for permission to speak. “Yes?” I said, turning back.

He flushed. “Pardon me, my lady, I know it’s not my place, but...surely you’re not going to see Lord Beningbrough?”

If he were any other servant, I would have found both the question and the vaguely disapproving tone presumptuous, especially since Helen threw me a superior glance, as if to say,
Do you see?
Even our footman mistrusts him
. But this was faithful, awkward Frye. Of all our servants, he’d always been the most attentive and the most loyal to me personally. Just this week, hadn’t he delivered my message about the blackmail notes to Beningbrough, and brought me my dinner on a tray when Papa locked me in my room? “Is there something wrong with that, Frye?”

He flushed. “No, my lady, I just...I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, that’s all.”

“Have you forgotten two men were killed here? I expect I’ll be safer at Newgate, where at least the murderers are locked securely behind bars.”

“You believe Lord Beningbrough is guilty, then?”

Behind me, Helen tittered, but I ignored it. “I didn’t say that. I simply meant nothing alarming is likely to happen to me with both the duchess and the prison guards close by.”

Frye’s face worked anxiously. “You could take me along, my lady, and I...I could attend you when you speak to Lord Beningbrough, in case he should try anything—”

If Ben did try anything, I sincerely hoped it would be an overture of a more private nature. The mere thought made my pulse skitter, though I still had no idea how Ben felt about my wanton behavior in the morning room. When I hadn’t been agonizing over the murder charges he faced, I’d been worrying he must think me shockingly fast. “That won’t be necessary. I’m sure the duchess will have her own footmen to attend us.”

He frowned. “But it could be dangerous for you. You shouldn’t be alone with that kind of—”

“Thank you, but I won’t be needing you.” Though his concern was understandable given the pall hanging over the house since Sam Garvey’s death, his continued objections bordered on impertinence, for he sounded more like a jealous suitor than a loyal servant. Starting toward the morning room again, I remarked in an undertone to Helen, “Sometimes Frye can be a little too attentive.”

She gave a contemptuous sniff. “He never frets that way over
me.
”

She flounced into the morning room a step ahead of me, and for the next ten minutes I had to endure her litany of complaints against Cliburne, Ben and men in general. At last Frye appeared to announce darkly that the Duchess of Ormesby’s carriage had arrived. I jumped up, hastily tying my bonnet under my chin as both Helen and Frye watched with sour, censorious looks.

Outside, a small woman in a stylish Vienna green walking dress was just alighting from her carriage. She glanced up and saw me pelting out the door toward her. “Lady Barbara?”

I halted in my tracks and sank into a deep curtsey. “Yes, Duchess.”

Her eyes no sooner swept over me than she broke into a delighted smile. “Why, you’re exactly as I’d hoped!”

Despite the trials of the last few days, my spirits rose. “How very kind of you, ma’am. And thank you for the invitation.”

“Oh, you mustn’t thank me. It was Beningbrough’s idea. He asked for you most particularly.”

My spirits rose even further. I joined her in the carriage, and as we settled ourselves on the plush squabs of green velvet I had an opportunity to observe her more closely. Though in her middle years, she was still a strikingly lovely woman, with smooth skin, dark curls streaked with silver, and the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. I could detect little of Ben in his mother, however, for she was as small and dainty as my sister, and she had the quick, bright manner of a chaffinch.

The carriage started off. “How is Beningbrough’s case progressing, ma’am?” I asked. “Has Sir Francis Ames been able to offer much encouragement?”

The duchess sighed. “I wish I knew. Ormesby assures me this is all bound to come out well in the end, but I can see he’s not convinced of it himself. He likes to think I can’t tell when he’s bamming me, when in truth no one could be easier to read.” There was nothing critical in her tone, only the utmost affection.

“But Lord Beningbrough—he’s in tolerable spirits?”

“A trifle down in the mouth, I think, but I have every hope your visit today will cheer him.” She sat for a moment in thought before turning toward me confidentially. “Tell me, Lady Barbara, have you ever been sickly?”

“Sickly?” I blinked in surprise. “No, ma’am.”

“Ah, good! And what are your views on children?”

“Children?”

“Yes. You don’t find them tiresome, do you, or believe they ought to be kept out of the way and brought up entirely in the country?”

Confused, I answered, “No, not at all. I have a niece and two nephews here in Town for the Season, my eldest brother’s children, and I would sooner spend time with them than with a good many of the adults I know.”

“Then you don’t grow impatient with children when they’re a trifle on the spirited side?”

I hoped the question implied some personal curiosity about my temperament, and not that she had an acquaintance in need of a reliable governess. “I’ve been accused of being a bit too boisterous myself.”

“But with a care for the children’s safety just the same?” asked the duchess on an anxious note.

“Yes, of course.”

Smiling, she leaned toward me eagerly. “And what is your thinking on greatcoats, Lady Barbara?”

It dawned on me that the duchess, while clearly possessed of great personal charm, was not quite right in the head. “I’m not sure I understand the question.”

She seized my gloved hands impulsively in her own. “Do you think a person should wear a greatcoat when there’s a chill in the air, even if the calendar insists it’s spring?”

My Grandmama Merton had once told me that the wisest course when dealing with lunatics was simply to humor them. With this advice in mind, I met the duchess’s gaze and spoke with great firmness. “If there’s a chill in the air, it would be foolish not to wear one.”

Releasing my hands, the duchess sat back with a look of profound satisfaction. “Oh, I’m so pleased, my dear! That’s
exactly
what I hoped you’d say.”

Ben

I heard her voice first—that low, husky purr that made everything she said sound like a challenge.

I was sitting on my cot, counting the stone blocks in the opposite wall for the third or fourth time that day, and the sound of her voice actually made my toes curl in my boots. I jumped up and crossed to the door of my cell, pressing myself to the bars. Barbara and my mother were following the turnkey up the passageway. My heart gave a bound at the sight of two such welcome figures—and as unfilial as it may be to admit it, my eyes skipped past my mother to fix hungrily on Barbara.

She wore a white lutestring gown and a spencer of peacock blue, and she walked with fluid, determined steps. Against the backdrop of her family’s Berkeley Square drawing room, Barbara possessed an undeniable allure. Striding the dismal corridors of Newgate, her head high and her red hair vibrant against the blue of her bonnet, she was the most thrilling sight I’d ever seen. It was as if some exotic
rara avis
had landed in the most unlikely of places, this gloomy prison with its fetid air and grim stone walls.

She caught sight of me leaning on the cell bars and closed the last few yards in a gratifying rush. “Ben!” She gazed through the bars at me, her expression mingling glad reunion with frank concern.

I glanced quickly to my mother, who, as I’d expected, was watching closely. I didn’t want her getting her hopes up about my future with Barbara, not when I had no definite future to speak of. It was disheartening enough knowing what I had to say to Barbara. I didn’t need my mother’s disappointment on my conscience too.

“Lady Barbara, Mama.” I greeted them with a measured smile. “How thoughtful of you both to come and see me.”

At my cautious welcome, a flicker of uncertainty crossed Barbara’s face, but it faded as the turnkey unlocked the heavy door to my cell.

“Goodness, I just remembered,” my mother said in a transparently inauthentic attempt to sound spur-of-the-moment. “Ormesby wished me to speak to the prison governor about...something. You’ll excuse me for a few minutes, won’t you, Lady Barbara?”

“Yes, of course, ma’am.” Barbara stole a flustered glance in my direction.

After a whispered exchange with the turnkey, my mother stood back as he admitted Barbara and closed the cell door with a clang. “I’ll be back in a trice, Ben, dear,” she called, starting down the corridor with the guard.

Their footsteps died away. Barbara looked at me for a moment, and I looked back at her. Then she launched herself headlong into my arms.

“Oh, Ben!” She pressed her face so tightly to my chest, her words were all but muffled in my coat. “I’m so
sorry
this has happened to you.”

She felt so good, so soft and sweet-smelling. She was just the right height for her head to nestle against my shoulder. But even her sweetness held a hint of temptation, for her warm curves pressed against me in all the most maddening places. I wanted to gather her close and never let her go.

But it wouldn’t do to lose my resolve, so I simply pulled back far enough to look down at her face. “Sorry?” I said on a teasing note. “These are considered state apartments, I’ll have you know. Not every prisoner can boast a cell the size of mine. And aren’t you going to congratulate me on my conspicuous lack of leg irons?”

At my tone, she looked up. Her worried expression slowly eased, until the arch smile I knew so well emerged. “Congratulate you? I was hoping to find you in chains. It would do wonders for your humility.”

I grinned, until I realized how dangerously close I was to stumbling into a jest about getting leg-shackled. I released her and continued briskly, “So what news is there? Did you and my mother have a chance to become better acquainted during the drive here?”

“Yes, and she’s an absolute darling. A trifle eccentric, perhaps, but exactly what one would wish for in a—” she hesitated, “—in a friend’s mother.”

I noticed the hesitation and knew what she’d really meant to say.
Mother-in-law
. I felt low enough to slither under a particularly low rock. After the intimacies Barbara and I had shared before my arrest, she had every right to expect a declaration. Any honorable man would already have made one. And why had I asked her here? To convince her we should go our separate ways.

I folded my arms in what was meant to pass for nonchalance. “How are things at Leonard House? Tell me you haven’t had any further cause for alarm.”

“No more deaths or intruders. I could almost wish there had been, to prove you weren’t responsible.”

I flinched at this show of loyalty, which only made me more conscious of my own reserve. “And your sister...?”

“She didn’t take it well when Cliburne called off their engagement, and I’m afraid she’s being difficult now about recanting her testimony. But I’m doing my best to win her over, and I believe she’ll reconsider once the hurt wears off. We’re only asking for the truth, after all, and it was Cliburne’s idea to cry off, not yours.”