Patricia Rice (28 page)

There was intelligence as well as miles of pain in
those eyes. She swept her dusty skirts with a lady’s grace as she took
the seat he offered, and she folded her hands primly in her lap as she
waited for him to find a seat. The fact that her hysteria did not escape
in tears impressed him.

“What can I do for you?” Miles asked, taking his seat.

His visitor replied tensely. “Morgan said I was to come to you if there were any trouble.”

As their story spilled out, Miles suffered a frisson of fear.
Faith
. The missing heiress.

Miles studied her carefully, confirming his
knowledge in the girl’s accents and graceful movements. At the very
best, Morgan could hope to be transported for theft, he knew. Should his
part in Faith’s disappearance be revealed, he would hang of a
certainty.

Morgan’s will left his entire fortune in the hands
of this slender girl. Did she know that? Many another woman would simply
have waited for fate to remove the obstacle to such wealth. Miles
didn’t think that observation applied here.

“Please, Mr. Golden, I must see Morgan. I have to
get him out. He doesn’t belong in prison. Whatever he did, he’ll never
do it again, I promise. Can you not help me? I can’t see him die. He has
no family to defend him but me. His family was destroyed by injustice.
Don’t let the same happen to him.”

Her pleas were very effective. They could be very
effective in other places. Combined with the money at her disposal...
Miles didn’t wish to raise her hopes.

He sat back in his chair and regarded her
dispassionately. “There is nothing that can be done tonight. In the
morning I will try to locate Mr. de Lacy and discover his status. Leave
word here as to where you will be staying, and I will come to you as
soon as I have some information. You’ll do him no good by wandering the
streets at this hour. Take her out of here, Mr. O’Reilly, and see that
she gets some rest.”

Miles stood in harsh dismissal and watched them go
with a small twist of his heart. The lad tucked his arm around the
heiress’s slumping shoulders and nearly carried her from the room. That
child no more belonged in this environment than a man belonged on the
moon. Morgan must be mad to keep her hidden away. He would give the
villain a piece of his mind as soon as he sought him out in the morning.

He didn’t tell the young pair that he already knew
of Morgan’s incarceration. What good would it do to tell them that one
of the most powerful men in London had charged the highwayman with
stealing his family jewels and demanded the death penalty? Morgan had
known what he was doing and accepted his fate.

Miles was quite certain Morgan’s mistress wasn’t so obliging.

Miles Golden arrived at the shabby inn where Toby
and Faith stayed the next afternoon. “I have found him, my lady,” he
announced sympathetically. “I will take you there because I promised,
but I will warn you, Morgan doesn’t wish to see you. He is quite likely
to dismiss me on the spot should he discover I have brought you with
me.”

Faith set her chin with determination. “Is he well?”

“As well as can be expected.” Miles studied her
carefully, waiting for her reaction. “The runner who took him stripped
him of all his coins, so he had nothing to pay the garnish when they
threw him in the common cell. He rather objected to being divested of
his fine coat, so he is a little worse for wear, but well.”

Faith faltered slightly as she took his arm. “Garnish?”

“The fee the prisoners extort when a newcomer is
introduced to their midst. Newgate is not one of our finer class of
prisons.” Miles remained standing, the chamber door open, ready to
depart. “I will understand if you prefer to stay here and let me deal
with this problem, my lady. There is no need to subject yourself to the
abysmal denizens of that hellhole.”

Faith regarded him coldly. “I wish to see Morgan. You will not scare me away, Mr. Golden.”

Miles exchanged a look with Toby, who shrugged. “I
can promise nothing. I have paid to see him in a private cell rather
than the common room, but if he knows you are with me, he may refuse to
let the warder unlock the cell. I have told him you are here, and he is
not happy about it.”

“Well, I am not happy about Morgan being where he
is, either. Let us go, Mr. Golden.” Impatiently Faith started toward the
door without him.

Not caring what the men around her thought, Faith
hurried out to the dismal street. Toby had taken a room near Temple Bar
in a semi-respectable section near the law courts and prisons. Lawyers
in worn black coats threaded their way among sailors still drunk from
the night before. Gentlemen with frayed cuffs and without their fine
wigs mixed with common trollops and rogues in stocking caps and clothing
that hadn’t seen a wash in many a year.

She didn’t know whether to be dismayed or relieved
when Mr. Golden indicated she was to ride in the sedan chair waiting at
the door.

She threw him an astonished look. “The expense is not necessary, sir. I can walk as well as you.”

Miles looked grim. “You will ride, and you will pull
the curtains. I am not de Lacy. I cannot rescue you if a few thugs
decide you would look well among their possessions. We must go through
an area that is not accustomed to seeing ladies such as yourself.”

She didn’t wish to waste time arguing. She needed to
see for herself that Morgan was well. Lifting her skirts, she climbed
into the chair and allowed the curtains to be pulled down around her.

When the chair halted a little later, Faith pushed
aside the hangings. The cold stone walls of Newgate rose up on either
side and in front of them. The cries echoing through open windows
sounded quite mad. Others were more like laments at the sight of the
sedan chair and the wealth that it represented.

The shrieks and cries raised bumps across her flesh,
and she had all she could do to keep from shaking as she took Mr.
Golden’s arm.

She caught the flash of a golden guinea as they met a
guard and were hastened down darkened corridors. Everything in here was
paid for at a price, and she tried not to imagine what was happening to
the small store of coins Miles held for Morgan. They were stolen coins.
It seemed only appropriate that they be taken by more thieves. At least
they served the purpose of providing Morgan with what small comforts
could be found.

Faith tried to ignore the filth of the walls and
floors. The stench of the old straw used for bedding and the open
latrines for the prisoners had to beckon vermin and rodents. She should
have brought bucket and broom.

The warden stopped before a narrow door and inserted
the key. No sound came from within, and Faith held her breath. Morgan
didn’t want her here. She hadn’t seen him in days. They had not been
lovers in weeks.

He could hate her as much as he liked, as long as he was alive to hate her.

The men stepped back to let Faith through first.
Morgan was sprawled along a bench, hands behind his head as he leaned
against the hard wall. Mr. Golden had evidently brought him clean shirt
and breeches, but nothing could be done to disguise the blackened bruise
along his jaw or the thick scab above his eye. He turned a questioning
gaze to the door, and jerked involuntarily at seeing Faith.

The chains on his wrists rattled, and he flinched,
but he was on his feet in a minute, his big fists clenching against the
iron bands as he looked beyond Faith to Miles and Toby. Taut muscles
strained across his cheekbones, and there was nothing sultry about the
green of his eyes today. They smoldered.

“Get her the hell out of here! By all the saints,
Miles, I’ll see you beaten within an inch of your life for this. Get her
out of here. Quit wasting my coins on these wretches and find her a
decent place to live. I gave you instructions yesterday. What in hell do
you mean by bringing her here?”

He was deliberately ignoring her. Faith frowned and
touched Morgan’s linen-covered chest, disregarding the symbols of his
incarceration. She could feel the curls of hair beneath his linen, and
she wished to wrap her fingers in them and feel the heat of his
sun-browned torso. His swift intake of breath was the only sign he gave
that he knew her presence.

“I’ll not go away like a bad dream, Morgan de Lacy.
I’m not an object that can be moved about at your convenience. I am
here. You had best yell at me and not the men who sought to protect me.”

Morgan closed his eyes. “For the love of Mary, lass,
leave. There is naught ye can do. I would wish you to think of me as we
were, not like this. Remember the stars, Faith, not this. Now, let
Miles take you away. He will help you. I promised to take care of you,
and I’ll not fail you in that. Go now, if you have any feelings for me
at all.”

His voice was strained, and Faith heard the emotion
behind it. Tears filled her eyes, for Morgan was not given to public
displays of emotion. He worked hard to keep a face of laughter and charm
turned to the world. Only she had touched the other Morgan, the Morgan
who cried over his lost babe, the Morgan who looked at the heavens and
prayed for his lost family. And it was that Morgan she saw, and the
others would see, should she remain.

She turned to Miles and Toby and motioned them out.
They went gladly, though she knew they stood just outside with the
warden and the key.

“You would have to be a blind man not to know how I
feel, Morgan. And a blind man you are, but I cannot help that now. What I
want to know is what I must do to get you out of here. I do not know
your Miles Golden or if he would help. That is why I had to talk to you.
Tell me to whom to go, what to do. I’ll not leave until I have your
word you’ll help me in this.”

Morgan opened his eyes. “
Bean sidhe
,”
he muttered, reaching to touch her hair. The chains clanked, and he
hastily drew back. “There is nothing even a witch could do for me now.
Do not drive yourself to madness trying.”

At these soft words, Faith shuddered in mixed relief
and horror. Morgan was recognizing her, but still denying her. She
stepped closer, forcing him to take her in his arms or fall back to the
bench. When his arms with their harsh bindings finally closed around
her, she leaned against his broad chest and sighed. “You are such a
fool, Morgan de Lacy. I’ll go mad if I do nothing. Hold me, and tell me
what to do.”

Morgan held her, but he called to the others standing outside. “Miles, come in here and get this silly woman.”

Faith beat her hand ineffectively against Morgan’s
chest as he held her imprisoned. She could feel his heart pounding
against her ear, feel the blood pumping through his veins as his arms
cuddled her against his length, knew the pressure against her belly for
what it was. He wanted her, and he would send her away.

She stayed where she was when the door opened,
refusing to leave when Morgan’s arms fell to his side. She wrapped her
fingers in his shirt and glared up at his square jaw. “This banshee
isn’t wailing, Morgan. You’ll not die. I’ll not let you. You’re going to
live whether you want to or not. You can cooperate or not, as you wish.
But I’ll spend every penny you ever earned to get you out of here with
or without your wishes.”

A glimmer of amusement flickered in Morgan’s eyes
for a moment and was gone. He looked to Miles. “You see why I had to
keep her hidden, Golden? The world isn’t ready for her yet. She still
believes in God and truth and justice. Explain things to her, will you?
Then do what I told you earlier.”

“I did that long ago, Morgan,” Miles replied
angrily, “when I thought you might be just a little prejudiced in
keeping her to yourself. Would you like the report now? Do you want to
hear about her grandfather, who wrote off his second son as if he didn’t
exist, ignored the pleas of wife and mother-in-law when her mother
died, refused to answer his son’s letters or acknowledge his only
granddaughter’s existence? Or perhaps you would prefer to hear about the
Montague heir. You met him the other night, I believe. Pleasant chap,
wasn’t he? Do you want to hear the report on him? Or on the cousin, the
one you described to me? He’s not the heir, you know, but he fancies
himself that. Do you want to hear about Faith’s cousin, Morgan? Then you
can tell me which one of the charming chaps you’d like me to send her
to.”

Morgan gripped Faith’s shoulders and set her back, then glared at Miles. “There’s a grandmother. Send her to her grandmother.”

“Certainly.” Miles shrugged and held out his arm to
Faith. “Let us go, my lady. Your grandmother is no bigger than you are
and not so fearsome. She hasn’t been able to stop your grandfather from
anything yet, but there’s always a first time. Perhaps she can protect
you from the scoundrels who set up this plan to have Morgan taken. I’m
sure she will try.”

This bombardment of information left Faith too
shaken to think for herself. Grandfather? Cousin? Did Miles know her
family, then? She threw a stunned look to Morgan, only to meet a similar
reaction there. He grabbed her arm and held her, glaring at Miles as if
he would decapitate him on the spot had he possessed a sword.

“You damned Jewish bastard! Did you have to say
these things in front of her? Bigad, man, if you weren’t the only man I
could trust...”

Miles returned Morgan’s glare. “My father was the
bastard, not I. And were you not such a thickheaded Irishman, I’d call
you out for the insult, but I’ll consider the source this time. You’ve
paid me well to take care of your little maid, and I’ll carry out my
task to the best of my ability. If that means shaking you out of your
self-pity to see what’s right before your nose, then I’ll do it. Wake
up, de Lacy, and listen to the girl.”

Golden was shorter and two stone lighter than
Morgan, his lanky frame fit only for lifting the books he pored over
each day, but his fists were knotted in anger as if for use against his
stubborn client. Faith clung to Morgan’s side, but she stared at the
solicitor with a growing smile of appreciation.