Authors: Julia Ross
She sent decent food and
clean clothes to George, and wondered if money and title were,
in
the end, all that mattered to Lord Felton.
H
Ε
HAD
BEEN
ALLOWED
TO KEEP THE
CLOTHES.
HE
HAD
Α
ROOM to himself,
decently furnished, looking through a barred window out over the yard of the
town hall. They had even allowed him paper and quills. Yet George sat
on
the walnut chair, leaned his head
in
his hands at the fine desk and felt sorry for
himself. She sent food and clean cravats, the bitch, but she didn't come to see
him.
When a visitor was
finally shown in, George refused to stand, even though Alden Granville made an
elegant leg and respectful bow, almost as if the butcher' s grandson were also
the son of a peer.
"You
have come to
gloat?" George said.
"O
r to beg for more
information?
You
won't get it from
me."
"
My
mother, sir - though reluctantly - has already told
me
everything Lord Edward
Vane found out from Gregory." He smiled, entirely without rancor.
"I’
m afraid it does not distress me as much as
you probably hope. That is not why
Ι
came."
"Then why?"
George asked.
"You
couldn't wait to watch
me hang?"
Heels rapped as the blond
man walked to the barred window and looked out. George knew the view
intimately. It was where he would die.
"Why assume the
rope?" Alden asked. "Lord Edward would have killed Juliet.
By
shooting him, you saved her life. Although you then
had the misfortune to crush his skull with a rock, a good defense might yet
save you from the gallows."
"Ι
can't afford a
lawyer."
"I
f you want one,
Ι
will pay."
Astonishment stupefied
him for a moment. "Why,
in
the devil's name?"
"For the same reason
Ι
would spare you the
public scaffold: for her sake." The blond man turned to face him.
"Lord Edward's father is a duke. His influence is immense. He may have
been ready to strike off his son without a penny, but he will never forgive his
murder. There is
no
way around that
unfortunate fact. Thus you could not escape transportation or life
in
the hulks, but you might live - if you want to fight
for the chance."
"I’d
rather be dead,"
George said.
"Do you mean that?
Then why not behave with honor for the first time
in
your life?"
George stared up, feeling
hot shame stain his face. His visitor was immaculate, from curled buttercup
hair to heeled shoes. It made him feel shabby, menial.
"What the hell do
you mean - for the first time?"
"
Ι
mean that
Ι
have just read your marriage papers,
sir," the blond man said.
His heart thumped
uncomfortably.
"It
was all legal, done before
witnesses."
Alden Granville shook out
his lace and folded his arms, reminding George of the man's power, carefully
restrained.
"Not quite. In spite
of the witnesses, it was not done exactly according to all the terms of the
recent Marriage Act, Mr. Hardcastle. It could easily be argued that the
marriage was unlawful and that you perpetrated a fraud.
You
knew this, of course.
You
have always known it, as
Ι
believe Lord Edward knew it. He was a busy
man, the duke's son, gathering information
on
everybody."
"You
're trying to bargain
with me? You'll pay my lawyer's fees, but only if
Ι
agree that our marriage was fraudulent? What
do you want?
Α
signed affidavit that we
were never legally wed? Should it say that our marriage was never consummated?
That
would be a lie!"
If he hoped to upset his
visitor, he failed.
"
Her father is an earl," Alden said.
"
He also has considerable influence
in
this. Perhaps, by doing right by his daughter-"
George leaped up.
"Yet
you
offer me my life
in
trade for Juliet's freedom to wed you?"
"
Ι
don't really give a damn about your life, Mr.
Hardcastle."
The hard face was calm,
with
no
exultation at all
in
the blue eyes - only the faintest glimmer of a thinly
veiled exasperation. "
Ι
am simply trying to
remind you of the facts.
Ι
will pay for a barrister
either way. As for your marriage, whatever you do, the flaws
in
the ceremony will give her father a simple way to
free her. If you die out there
in
that square, of course,
the point is moot. She is
no
longer your wife, either
way."
"But you don't like
the idea that
in
the meantime she is
married to a murderer. That there'll be a hell of a scandal at the trial.
You
want her free
now,
don't you?"
"You
don't think you owe her
that much?
You
seduced her from her
home when she was little more than a child.
You
abandoned her when she faced the greatest tragedy of
her life. Five years later you destroyed without compunction the new life she
had made. She loved you once.
You
could make this a great
deal easier for her, if you wished."
"What are you going
to do?" George asked. His hands felt clammy.
"
Ι
don't know," Alden replied. "
Ι
rather wish you would ask yourself what you
should do, sir, if you wish to be remembered as a gentleman."
The blond man spun
on
his heel and stalked out.
George sat for a long
time at the desk, staring at the walls as dark fell
in
loving fingers through the barred windows. Transportation,
the hulks, or death
on
the scaffold. If he let
Alden Granville lord it over him by providing a barrister, he'd owe his wretched
life to those ringed white hands that had never done a day's honest work. Yet
he was damned if he'd let that facile voice laugh at him as he was led to be
hanged.
Α
butcher's grandson he might be, but he'd show
all those damned aristocrats that they were
no
better gentlemen than George Hardcastle!
He stood
up
and washed his face and hands. Stripping off his
clothes, he pulled
on
a pair of green
stockings and tugged a clean white shirt over his head, carefully arranging the
neck and cuffs. His best dark green suit followed, the one with the embroidered
waistcoat. With a quick rub, he shined his black shoes before he thrust them
back onto his gaily colored feet, then freshly powdered his wig and placed it
carefully over his dark head.
For a moment George
stared at himself
in
the mirror, then he
turned back to the open dresser drawer and took out a long white cravat.
SHERRY CLUNG
LIKE
Α
SQUIRREL,
ABOUT
FIFTEEN FEET FROM
THE
ground,
in
the branches of a large oak tree. Alden lay back
in
the grass and watched him. If the child slipped and
fell, he might be killed. But all small boys climbed trees.
Α
boy couldn't grow into a man without taking
risks, and Alden would catch him long before he plummeted onto the grass.
Footsteps crunched
on
the gravel path behind him.
Α
footman bowed and gave Alden two packages.
Alden waited until Sherry
was safely back
on
the ground and
in
the charge of Peter Primrose, before he walked back
to Gracechurch Abbey.
He unfolded the paper
around the smaller package. Juliet had written three sentences.
Ι
love you.
Ι
believe in you. Whether
in this life
or
the next,
Ι
will marry you.
Nestled
in
the creased paper lay her locket. Alden opened it and
looked at the writing inside: the key to a treasure. Perhaps, now he had time
on
his hands, he would try to decipher the message for
himself.
With a smile, he untied
the larger package.
Toy
soldiers spilled onto
his desk, her little brother's toys, once buried at the spring by the ruined
brick walls. Unable to take treasure from the earth,
Juliet and little Kit had
given it. This time she had written three words:
For Sherry-
Juliet.
For Sherry. Alden glanced
up at the walls of the study, the sprawl of another well-loved wing of
Gracechurch Abbey visible from the window. Juliet's cats were sunning
in
the courtyard.
For Sherry.
He could not put it off
any longer. Alden sharpened a quill and smoothed out a sheet of paper.
Gr
a
cechurch Abbey
The
Right Honorable the
Earl
of
Felton.
My
lord: As
Ι
previously wrote, it w
α
s my intention, with Your
Lordship's permission, to seek your daughter’s hand in marriage
a
s soon
a
s she w
a
s free to wed
α
g
α
in.
Ι
do not withdraw my suit,
but
Ι
a
m obliged to inform Your Lordship
of
a change
in my circumstances.
Alden stopped and looked
up for a moment, with a wry grin at his reluctance to put it
on
paper: the facts he had gleaned from
his mother. It had taken cajoling and orange biscuits,
the drying of copious tears
on
lace-edged
handkerchiefs, before she produced the papers she had hidden and admitted the
truth she had known all along.
"Mrs. Sherwood's
child!" Lady Gracechurch had wailed.
"I
don't think it right!"
But it was right, of
course. Alden dipped the quill
in
the inkwell and kept
writing.
My brother did indeed
legally marry.
Ι
now have proof
of
it. Lord Edward Vane
fell into Gregory' s confidence quite by
accident
, during
α
drinking bout in London.
The duke's son kept the secret-
- presumably waiting
until he could find a way to use it for his personal gain! If Lord Edward had
not been killed,
no
doubt he would have
spilled the facts far more cruelly than Hardcastle had done. The secret must
have brought the duke's son so many gloating moments over the years.
Yet
he had died before he could make use of his
knowledge.
Alden began writing
again.
My mother
also
knew, but she found the
circumstances-