Historical Romance Boxed Set (36 page)

Alexandra grabbed her shawl and headed out the door. At least her eagerness to escape the house was a reality. She fumbled in the pouch tied beneath her dress for the coin she would need to hire a cab, then ran around front. Woolwich was much too far to walk.

* * *

It took Alexandra well over an hour to get to Woolwich, and her palms sweated the entire way.

When she saw the outline of the prison barges in the distance, her breath caught in her throat. Could she do this? She had heard awful things about the hulks, but she had to know if Nathaniel was there or not.

The cab finally stopped near the royal arsenal, and Alexandra bade the driver to wait. She would only be a minute, just long enough to catch a glimpse of him.

It was a hot, dreary day, the onset of summer. Alexandra left her shawl in the carriage before descending.

A quick glance at the darkening sky told her a storm was on its way. She’d spent most of her time indoors and had all but missed spring. Now she felt deprived. The summer months were hot and miserable. And they had to be doubly so for the inmates, she thought, watching a gang of men stacking shot.

Unmistakably prisoners, they were sixteen to a group with a club-carrying guard to keep them in line. Most were shackled; those who were not seemed too weak to move, let alone work, but work they did.

Alexandra scanned the group, trying to see the face of each convict. Six prisoners were being led through the throng toward the water, evidently heading back to the ships, but Nathaniel was not among them.

She turned her gaze to those who were stacking shot.
Please, just let me know where he is and that he’s alive,
she prayed, her eyes frantically searching among the filthy, emaciated bodies.

When Alexandra finally saw Nathaniel, she wondered how she had ever missed him. He stood, working with the others, not more than thirty feet away. Dirt and sweat streaked his face. He wore rags like the other prisoners, but his arm gave him away—that, and an undeniably confident air.

Nathaniel seemed to feel her stare, as if it were something physical that spanned the distance between them. He paused from his work and rose to his full height, gazing back at her as though she were some sort of vision.

Alexandra gasped, and her nails curled into her palms. She wanted to acknowledge him in some way, but the ache in her heart made it difficult to move.

She forced her hand open to wave. “Nathaniel,” she whispered as her throat constricted with unshed tears.

Nathaniel’s face looked hewn from stone. He did not react, but Alexandra was positive that he recognized her.

Then a guard appeared next to him. “Ogling the ladies, are we, cripple? Get back to work.”

Nathaniel glared at the guard, then looked back at Alexandra. She could almost see the clarity of his blue eyes—until the guard struck him with a large, ponderous stick.

“I said, back to work,” the guard shouted, hitting him again.

“No!” Alexandra cried, clinging to the fence. “Please, let him be!”

The blows continued as another guard approached her. “Miss! Miss! Who are you, miss?” he asked, and Alexandra knew she had to get away from the pitiful scene before she caused Nathaniel any more harm.

Turning, she stumbled blindly toward the carriage, tears streaming down her face. She tripped on her hem and fell once, then scrambled to her feet, biting her lip to hold back the sobs that racked her frame. Finally she climbed inside the waiting conveyance, and the driver pulled away.

Chapter 18

Something snapped inside Nathaniel as Alexandra disappeared from the wharf. He had bided his time and paced himself for ultimate endurance, but the sight of her horrified expression broke the tenuous grip he had on his patience. He exploded with a ferocity that stunned the guard who beat him. Wrapping his arm around the stick, he jerked it away in one fluid motion that left those around him gaping in surprise. Then he used it to knock the guard to the ground.

The chaos that erupted after that seemed to last forever, but Nathaniel knew it could have been no more than a few seconds. He fought with the energy of a wild man while the shouts and cries of the other prisoners and guards rang in his ears. Some of the prisoners took his lead and began to fight as well, while others cowered in fright.

Ultimately the prisoners didn’t have a chance. Nathaniel had known it before he landed his first blow. The chains were too much of a hindrance, the clubs too devastating with so many guards to wield them.

After some initial fear and confusion, the guards rallied with a vengeance. Nathaniel felt the pain of their attack, but he didn’t care. He kept going when most men would have stopped. Nothing mattered except his need to fight back, to answer their cruelty. But he knew he would pay. Even as the blow that knocked him senseless landed on the back of his head, he knew.

* * *

Alexandra had the cab driver drop her at the end of Berkeley Street. She wasn’t quite ready to face Mrs. Wright and the others. She was still shaking despite the long ride back, and needed a few minutes more to compose herself after the horrifying sight of watching Nathaniel being beaten like a dog.

She had to let Trenton know. The duke had misled him, had sent him off to Liverpool when Nathaniel was right here all the time, in London. Worse was the thought that Trenton might not be able to help Nathaniel. How could they, or anyone else, get him out of that terrible place?

Perhaps she should head to Liverpool in search of Trenton, she thought, anxious to do something. But she instantly knew the folly of that idea. How would they find each other? Besides, her sudden disappearance would arouse the duke’s suspicion, and until they had Nathaniel safely away from the hulks, she didn’t dare provoke Greystone.

If they
could
get him safely away…

The wrought iron gate of Greystone House loomed before her, and Alexandra took a deep breath. She didn’t want to go back, but she had to face the other servants and Lord Clifton and the duke and pretend she mourned for an ill mother. Otherwise, Trenton wouldn’t know where to find her. For caution’s sake, she knew he couldn’t return to the inn where he had stayed before.

“Where have you been?”

Alexandra jumped as the marquess stepped out from beneath an elm tree. “You frightened me,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest as if she could stop the racing of her heart.

“You haven’t answered my question. Where have you been?”

“If you needed me, you had only to ask Mrs. Wright, and she would have sent another maid.” Alexandra kept her voice calm, trying not to reveal how much his attitude irritated her.

“Mrs. Wright said you went to see your ailing mother. You told me when we were with Nathaniel that you have no family.”

Alexandra’s knees went weak as her mind groped for something that Lord Clifton might believe. “Actually, I—I wanted to show the earrings you gave me to a friend,” she said.

The marquess smiled, making Alexandra grateful that his vanity was sufficient for him to accept the lie. “Of course. Do you like them?” He took her hand and drew her back under the tree with him.

“Not every maid receives such a gift from the son of a duke,” she said, playing her part.

“You’re not every maid. I’ve never seen another so lovely.” Taking her by the chin, Clifton tilted Alexandra’s head back so he could kiss her. She knew what was coming, and for Nathaniel’s sake, she steeled her nerves to accept it. But when the marquess’s ardor mounted and his hand moved down over her hips, she pulled away.

“Perhaps I misunderstood,” she said. “I thought the earrings were a gift, not a form of payment.” And she ran back inside the house.

* * *

Alexandra sat in Greystone’s study, her ears trained for the slightest sound. It was late in the night. The grandfather clock down the hall chimed the hour of three as she hurried to finish.

Dipping the duke’s quill back into his ink pot, she signed her name, then quickly read over her letter. She had no idea if Nathaniel would ever receive it, but word from her was the only thing she could give him at the moment.

The milkman came before dawn every morning and left a can of milk by the back door. Alexandra met him outside today, her letter in hand.

She stepped from the shadows as Mr. Donaldson pulled his wagon to a stop. He got down, and with work-roughened hands lugged a huge can of milk to the ground, its thump as familiar as the rooster’s crow in the morning. Then he turned to Alexandra and silently accepted the letter. She pressed a few shillings in his palm besides, and he nodded his head in acknowledgment.

Alexandra started back through the door, but he caught her by the elbow. She watched as he reached into his other pocket and withdrew a wrinkled piece of paper that had been folded several times.

She smiled her thanks and waited until he left to read Trenton’s words:

Alexandra,

Nathaniel must not be in Liverpool. I would think perhaps he was transferred to Newgate, but I can find no record of it. I’m back in London now and hope you have better news. Meet me beyond the stables at midnight Wednesday next.

Trenton

Tucking his letter into the folds of her skirt, Alexandra hurried inside lest the new tweenie, who rose earlier than everyone else, find her. Wednesday next, Trenton had said. Why, tomorrow was Wednesday.

Tomorrow night, then,
she thought, and prayed the hope of Trenton’s impending visit would be enough to block from her mind the recurring vision of Nathaniel being struck by the guard.

* * *

The following night Alexandra sat in the kitchen, sewing. She had volunteered to make fresh aprons for some of the maids. Servants bore the cost of their own uniforms, and their low salaries often made such purchases a hardship, so she had agreed to do the work for free. Mrs. Wright was grateful for her help, and it gave Alexandra something to occupy her mind and to calm her nerves while she waited for Trenton.

“You’ve put in a long day, lass. Why don’t you go off to bed?” Mrs. Wright asked as she carried jars of fresh preserves to the pantry.

“I’ll go up soon. I’m not tired yet.” In truth, Alexandra was exhausted, but she didn’t dare lie down for fear she’d fall asleep and miss Trenton.

“You’re a hard worker. I’m glad Lady Anne knew enough to hire you, though your story had me worried at first.”

The housekeeper disappeared into the pantry and returned for another load. “You wouldn’t mind retrieving the tray I took up to His Grace in the study, would you? He’s up late tonight.”

Alexandra hesitated, wishing she could beg off. She avoided the duke at every turn, afraid her hatred of him would be too difficult to hide. She also feared his discovery of the broken lock on his metal box, knowing her connection to Nathaniel could easily make him suspicious of her. But Alexandra could think of no good excuse to avoid the task Mrs. Wright requested.

“Is Lord Clifton with his father?” She hoped the answer would be no. She’d made several attempts to return the marquess’s earrings, but he had refused them outright. And instead of losing interest in her as she hoped he would, he seemed to be more and more obsessed with winning her affection, or at least her acquiescence.

Mrs. Wright headed back for another load. “I’m not sure.”

Alexandra set her work on the table and left the kitchen to climb the back stairs. The other servants were asleep in their quarters, so she ran into no one on her way. Much to her chagrin, however, Clifton was in the study with his father.

Alexandra entered as unobtrusively as possible, but the two still glanced up. As she removed the tray, Greystone pulled off his glasses and spoke to her.

“Tell Harry to get the carriage ready. I’m going out tonight.”

Alexandra schooled her features to show no surprise, though it was late to be going anywhere, unless it was to his favorite tavern. “Yes, Your Grace.”

She curtseyed, balancing the tray in one hand, then turned toward the door. Lord Clifton said nothing, but she felt his gaze follow her out.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she made her way back, knowing the duke would be gone when Trenton came.

By the time Alexandra arrived in the kitchen, Mrs. Wright had finished moving the preserves and was taking off her apron.

“I’m going to bed,” she announced.

“His Grace wants Harry to get the carriage ready. Shall I go out and tell him?” Alexandra asked. Harry slept over the stables along with his son, who worked for the duke as a stable boy.

“If you would. My poor feet can hardly walk another step.”

Alexandra smiled. Mrs. Wright worked hard, and she was a fair, honest woman. “I’ll be right back.”

Harry was already in bed, but his son answered her knock on the stable door. “Hello, Rory. His Grace would like your father to get the carriage ready,” she told him. “And I brought something for you.”