Edith Layton (20 page)

“I was going to buy my way in,” she said, answering truthfully because there didn’t seem much point in lying.

“Really?” he asked with interest. “And how much money did you bring?”
She opened her purse and showed him.

He whipped the purse out of her hand and put it inside his jacket.

She gaped at him.

He laughed, and handed it back to her. “You see? I give it back. Whatever bloke took it from you at Newgate wouldn’t have, and he wouldn’t have done what you wanted either. What could you do then? Report him to the officials—if you knew where to find them—for
not
taking a bribe? He’d deny it, and where would you be? Or maybe report him for stealing your money? You’d have to give your name to make a charge against him, and then explain why you were there in the first place. Any way you slice it, you’d have been trumped, robbed, and dumped, all in an hour.”

“But Christian said that women of means can come and go even in the condemned calls at Newgate,” she said, her eyes wide.

“So they can, and so they do. But they’re far more experienced in such matters than you are. They hire rogues like me to do their dirty work.” He put up one gloved hand to stop her before she could speak. “But I’ll work for you free. Because I think it would be good for him to see you. He needs diversion now. And I think you truly care for him, or you wouldn’t be about this mad business, would you?”

“I don’t know that I should be,” she said wretchedly. “I don’t even know if he is who he says he is.”

“I know who he is, and I can tell you that he’s his father’s son. And that he didn’t steal any candle
sticks—not then and not now. He’s sitting in Newgate because someone wants him dead—then, and now.”

“Can you prove it?” she asked eagerly.

“I will. Until then, he needs all the help he can get. Are you willing to give that to him?”

Finally, it was all too much for her. Her head shot up. “I just sneaked out of the house,” she said through her clenched teeth. “I lied to my cousins and my host, I was about to bribe the king’s men and risk my neck and my name,
and
my body, by going to a loathsome jail! And you ask me if I am willing to help? My dear sir, if you don’t think so, I don’t credit you with much intelligence!” She sat back, fuming.

“My dear ma’am,” he said, “I’ve seen more of the world than most men. Christian is a very handsome fellow, and he’s a step from the scaffold right now. That’s enough to make a certain sort of female lie, sneak, bribe, and cheat their own relatives, husbands, and priests, as well as all the king’s men, in an effort to see him.”

She fell still and looked at her knotted hands in her lap.

His voice came soft. “Forgive me. But that’s the real world. Christian has seen it, and worse. I do think you care for him. And so if you do, please help him to forget all that, if only for an hour, will you?”

Her emotions had been so buffeted, she was so filled with doubt and fear, she didn’t know what to say. That seemed to satisfy him.

“Now,” he said briskly, “here’s how we’ll do it. Christian’s being kept near the state side of the prison, which is a mercy. Common criminals stay in
the sties on the other side, and that’s unbearable. But he isn’t in the best apartments. It was hard enough to keep him out of the common pens. I only did it by telling them he might be proved a nobleman still, and by greasing every hand that was held out. But he isn’t in the best apartments either; they’re all taken. So we’ll be going down some dark paths. You keep that hat and veil on—how can you breathe, by the way?”

“With difficulty,” she said, with a smile she couldn’t help.

His admiration was clear to see in his widened blue eyes. “Damned if Christian wasn’t always a lucky lad.”

His smile faded, and he leaned forward, his face all seriousness. “Now, listen well, because we’ll be there before long. When we get to Newgate’s walls, I’ll leave you in the hack while I go in and take care of matters. Then I’ll take you in. Walk with me, don’t stop or say one word to anyone until I leave you alone with Christian.” He frowned. “You do understand that I’ll be leaving you by yourself with him, and the door will be locked behind you two? If you’re going to get all missish about the proprieties and such, let me know now.

“Think about it,” he told her, his usual humorous expression gone. “Whether or not you believe him to be a criminal, I tell you one thing. This isn’t some giddy girlish lark your friends and family will soon forgive you for. If you’re discovered about this business, your reputation will be lower than a draggletailed gutter wench selling herself for two pennies in the streets outside of the place where you’re going. Do you understand that?”

She nodded and swallowed hard.

“Well, I’m thinking you won’t be discovered,” he said, sitting back. “I’ll give you an hour with him, then I’ll come back for you. So. What do you say?”

She didn’t hesitate. She looked him in the eye. “What do I say? I say: Will you take me to him, please?”

J
ulianne was glad she couldn’t see very well, it was bad enough that she could smell Newgate Prison. The reek was almost unbearable. It smelled of wet wood and clammy stones, stale food, human sweat, chamber pots, and worse. And although she knew it wasn’t possible, it seemed to her that the nose-searing stench she tried not to breathe was also that of decades of desperation.

“Take a deep breath, no matter how it stinks,” Captain Briggs whispered to her, as they walked down another dark corridor. “Then take another, and by the next you won’t mind it half so much. Three more, and if you’ve lived through them, you won’t notice the smell at all. The nose is very forgiving; how else do you think people live in such places?”

Julianne did as he said, and though it got better, she silently disagreed, because she never got used to the rank smell. Nevertheless, she kept walking, following the captain and the burly prison guard he’d produced to take them to Christian. She clutched her purse and kept her hands in her cape, but she was still cold. The
stones of the walls and the floors of Newgate kept the winter in though spring rioted outside. Julianne thought that it would always be cold in here no matter the season.

Newgate was huge and sprawling, a city of punishment, a warren of corridors. It had been burned down twice in its long history, but Julianne thought there’d be no flame hot enough to cleanse the place of its ugliness.

“Don’t fret,” the captain told her. “It’s not a Monday, so there’s no hangings today. Just as well, we’d never get through the mob if there were. Nothing brings out the crowds like a good hanging, you know.”

Julianne’s stomach felt as cold as her hands and quivered just as much. Her courage had deserted her. She was too frightened to speak, or to run, or even to faint. She could only march on, trying to match the captain’s slightly halt but rapid gait. She had time now, at last, to think of her folly. But her thoughts didn’t go far, they only wound round and round in her head.

They passed through bleak stone halls and climbed a stair that led to a long hall. The air was a bit better here, but it was just as dim and dreary, and her thoughts were now even darker.

If she were caught at this, she’d be ruined. And she deserved it. Because she’d been rash, flying off to do something without carefully planning it. And because she’d been a great fool to sacrifice everything for love. That was what it was, she knew it now. She loved the man who claimed to be Christian Sauvage,
and the more fool she, because she still didn’t know who or what he was. She’d only her heart to go by, and at last, she doubted it and herself as much as she doubted him.

“’Ere we are,” the guard said, stopping before a door that looked like all the others in the dark corridor. “You don’t know how you got ’ere, nor seen me at all.”

“True,” the captain said. “But you’ll wait and see me out when I call you. And bring me back within the hour.”

The guard glanced at the veiled figure beside him. “And ’er?”

“She stays that hour.”

The guard made a strangled sound that might have been a chuckle. “’E’s set to swing, is he? Funny, I didn’t hear that yet, ’cause when they’re ready for the drop, they takes them to the other side, nearer the gallows…Aye, not my business,” he said quickly, seeing Anthony’s expression. “Go in. I’ll come back for you, sir, in five minutes. The gentry mort can stay the night, do she wish, it’s all the same to me.”

He took a key from the mass of them he wore at his waist, put it in the lock, and flung open the door. “’Ere, you got company,” he said. “Quick, quick,” he told Anthony and Julianne, as he looked down the corridor to be sure no one saw what he was doing. The moment they were inside, he closed the door. They could hear the key creaking in the lock as it turned, and the sharp shot of the bolt falling back in place.

The cell was plain and simple, though bigger than she’d thought it would be. The stones of the walls were as thick and dark as they were in her nightmares. The one window was near the high ceiling, so small that only a glimpse of light showed through the bars over it. There was a bed and a table, a chair and a basin, and one lamp. And the man who called himself Christian Sauvage.

He rose from the bed and stared at them. “Damn you, Amyas!” he shouted. “Why have you brought her here?”

“She’s wrapped like a parcel,” the captain said. “How do you know who I’ve brought?”

“What other female in all England would want to see me? And who else would be naive enough to listen to you and come here? Did you think this would comfort me? It horrifies me. Julianne, go home!”

“She was on her way here by herself when I intercepted her. Aye,” the captain said when Christian fell silent. “S’truth, on my life. Wouldn’t that have been a pantomime? She’d hired the hack, and was waltzing off to Newgate alone, dressed like a widow and producing her money for anyone asking to see it. I brought her here, true. Would you have preferred I let her go by herself?”

“Gad,” Christian said, running a hand over his hair.

“Or,” the captain asked, “should I have spent the day arguing with her?

“She likely wouldn’t have changed her mind,” Christian said. “Always had to have your way, didn’t you, Julie? But this is a bit different than a romp in
the woods or a trip to a trout stream with the lads. We should have been less indulgent then, so you wouldn’t be so reckless now.”

She couldn’t answer right away; she was too busy trying to fight back tears. He was changed. It wasn’t because he was in his shirtsleeves, with no neckcloth, wearing only that shirt and breeches. Or that his boots were off, and he stood in his hose. But he still looked immaculate, as always, even with the new heavy discolored bruise on his cheekbone. She could see it clearly even through the heavy netting of her veil. It wasn’t his injury or his half dress that made him look different to her.

She realized it was because of how edgy and distracted he was. He was usually so calm and self-assured. Now he seemed to vibrate with tension as he paced the little cell.

“Why did they do this to you?” she managed to say.

He paused, his head to the side. Then he reached her in three strides, and took her in his arms. She put her arms around him, laid her head on his chest, felt the warmth of him, and heard his rapid heartbeat beneath her ear. Now that she was in his close embrace, she sighed. He was her Christian again.

“Never a word of accusation from her,” he said in a shaky voice, speaking over her head to Anthony. “Only what have
they
done. Was I right?”

“Yes, you’re right. Again. As ever, it’s sickening,” Anthony said.

Christian released Julianne and stepped back. “Let’s have a little propriety…gad! What am I saying? The woman’s visiting a criminal in Newgate
Prison, with only another man as a chaperone! And he himself a…I’m not used to talking to a fishnet,” he told her, quickly changing what he was about to say. “Since it’s only you and I and Amyas here, do you think you might remove your hat?”

She reached up and pulled out the hatpin, lifted the veil, and took off her hat. She could see him more clearly, and he could clearly see the frown on her face. “Amyas?” she asked unhappily, turning the hat in her hands, looking from Christian to the captain, “I thought his name was Anthony.”

“I must be more overset than I’d thought,” Christian murmured. “But what’s the point of secrecy at this stage? Julianne,” he said soberly, “his name
is
Amyas. A proud old Cornish name, he says. We decided he’d be Anthony for a while in order to avoid discovery. He’s my brother, you see.”

“One of the brothers you and your father met…here?” she asked in astonishment.

“Yes. And he’s been my brother in all but blood ever since. When we heard of the inheritance, he insisted on coming to England with me. There was a good reason for secrecy, believe me.” Christian started pacing the cell again. “We realized being the earl of Egremont was a position with a certain amount of risk. Any claimaint to the title would be at an equal risk, and one with a criminal record at an even higher one.” He showed a skewed smile as he added. “We trust the nobility about as far as they trust us. So Amyas came along to do some investigating of his own, to keep me safe.”

“Much good I did,” Amyas said bitterly.

“Much good you did do!” Christian corrected him. “I’ll be out of here soon enough. I’m only on edge because of how I feel about this damned place.
On edge
.” He laughed. “A fine euphemism for fairly insane. At any rate,” he told Julianne, “you can see why we needed to change my brother’s name.”

“Yes, I do,” she said, drawing herself up. “And
your
name?”

That made him check. He looked at her and smiled slightly. “A little late for doubt, isn’t it? But I suppose it’s earned. I am who I’ve said I am, Julianne. I’ve never lied to you.”

“I see,” she said stiffly, “but it isn’t a lie if you choose not to tell me the truth?”

He nodded. “Some things aren’t mine to tell. That’s only truth. So, do you want to leave now?”

She took a deep breath. She could no more leave him now than she could fly out of Newgate Prison. “No,” she said. “I want to help.”

“That you can’t do,” he said. “We’ll leave that to Amyas here, Murchison, and other friends. Yes, the runner’s been helpful. And no, I don’t know if he’s playing two sides in this game, nor do I care.”

“He’s cautious and clever, and would take money from the Devil himself,” Amyas said. “But he does have a heart. He was the one who told me Miss Julianne sent him a note asking where you were. He could just as easily have told the baronet about that, you know.”

“He may well have,” Christian said. “Be careful of whom you trust.”

“You telling
me
that?” Amyas hooted. “Any road,
I’ll be off now. There are some people abiding here I need a word with. I’m hoping to have things resolved before another day rises. I’ll come back to collect you in an hour, Miss Lowell, if that’s all right with you?”

Christian was staring at her. “There’s no need for it. Thank you for coming, but you can leave now if you wish,” he told Julianne. “It’s all right.” She noticed that though his tones were casual, he held himself rigid as he waited for her answer.

“I’ll stay,” she said.

“I wish I could offer you somewhere else to sit,” Christian said, when Amyas had left them, and the door was shut firmly again. He indicated the bed with a sweep of his hand. “But all I have is the bed.”

Julianne promptly sat down. She winced as she felt the unyielding surface beneath her. “Bed? It feels like a rock.” She laughed to hide her distress. “How can you sleep on it?”

“Only a fool sleeps in Newgate,” he muttered, and began pacing again. “No sense lying, I’m glad to see you. I’m also appalled. How did you get away from your cousins? What possessed you to do it? Don’t you know the danger you’re in?”

“As for how I did it, that was easy. I had my faithful Annie to help me the way she did when we met at the White Hart. We said I was ill, and she’s keeping everyone away from my sickroom. It seems I have a talent for deception,” she said too brightly.

Then she frowned. “I’m not a deceptive person. At least, I don’t think I am. I never did anything so underhanded at home. But I didn’t have to.” She put her
head to the side, considering it. “I suppose I don’t worry about deceiving my cousins because I don’t think they have my best interests at heart. After all, they tricked me into coming to them in the first place.

“And I don’t think I’m in any more danger than I was those other times I met you in the night and was home by dawn. Maybe I am becoming an accomplished sneak, at that. I’ve certainly been a successful one. As for why…” She shook her head. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you in here alone, thinking all your friends had deserted you.”

He stilled. “Are you still my friend then, Julianne?”

She nodded, wondering why he’d doubt her.

“And nothing more?” he added, making her realize that he hadn’t doubted her at all.

“I wanted to see justice done,” she said, ignoring the undercurrent of meaning in his question. “I don’t believe you’re a thief, and I certainly don’t think you stole any frippery candlestick,” she said angrily. “Why should you? You obviously don’t need the money, and you’re not stupid. Why do the same thing they accused you of again?”

“Stupidity has nothing to do with it,” he said conversationally, his eyes on the stones beneath his feet as he paced them. “Some men steal the way other men gamble or drink. It’s not a thing they can help doing.”

“Are you saying you’re one of them?” she asked, her eyes widening.

He was beside her in seconds. He sat and took her hands in his. “No, I’m not saying that. But I have stolen. Bread, cheese, a link of sausage. I learned to.
do that here. It’s how you survive this place. Amyas and his brother taught me—us. What was unthinkable becomes what you must think here…God!” he said with loathing, “I hate this place.”

He sat so close she could feel the shudder that went through his lean frame as he said that. His speech was faster than usual; if she’d detested the way her fashionable suitors drawled, still she could hardly bear how rapidly Christian now spoke. His movements were jerky, his body tense; he was nothing like the calm, composed man she knew.

“This place,” he said, looking around his cell. “It still has a grip on me. I
know
I won’t be here long this time, but I can’t seem to persuade my idiotic brain of it. I spent a year here when I was still a boy, and it seems coming back has reduced me to that state again. I remember it all too well.

“The thing is I can’t stop remembering that first day,” he said, staring off into middle distance as though he was seeing it again. “There are echoes, they keep reminding me. It was spring then, too. Such a contrast: my last taste of freedom and my first of horror. We’d had such a good day. My father seldom got a chance to spend an entire day with me, but it was such a glorious spring morning that he got an idea…Is it still spring outside?

“Stupid question,” he said before she could answer, releasing one hand so he could slap himself on the forehead. “Stupid, meeching, pathetic question. Oh, pity the poor boy,” he mocked in more of his old accents. “At any rate,” he went on quickly, gripping her hands tightly in both of his cold ones again, “on that
day my father took me with him when he went to the countryside to correct an error a rich client claimed he’d made on his accounts. The fellow had a manor house, and since it was a Sunday, said I was welcome as well. When we got there Father made a bargain with the stable master so we could ride when he was done working.