03 - The Wicked Lady Read online

  Water trickled down the walls and the foul stench of human waste almost made her retch. A little further along, another smell--a mixture of damp and musty--let her know real fast that things would only get worse. Then she heard an eerie noise. Was it human or animal? She wasn't certain she wanted the answer to her question.

  Finally, they came to a cell and stopped. Grady set the lantern down and opened the heavy wooden door, then shoved Kristen inside. Weak light filtered in through a barred window high on the wall.

  Kristen sighed with relief when she didn't spot another occupant in the room. She didn't want another fight or argument tonight. She was tired, and if she couldn't go home, at least she could sleep.

  Taking in her surroundings, she found a low table on a mat on the floor against the wall. She wondered what kind of vermin lived in this cell as she glanced at the other corner and saw a beat-up chamber pot.

  All the other times Kristen had been arrested, they had set her free. This was the first time she'd actually been locked up. There was no way she could get the key to slip out, because it was on a metal ring with the other keys.

  "There's a blanket in the corner, and someone will bring you water shortly," Grady announced. "Probably not what you're used to, sweetie, but it's better than most of these pens. His Grace did leave enough money to get you a cell by yourself."

  Kristen wanted to laugh. The cell was no worse than where she used to live. She'd gotten too soft and used to nice things, and that had been her mistake. What a fool she'd been. Hadn't she known her time at Chatsworth would never last?

  The thick door swung shut with a heavy, final thud that echoed around the cell. There was silence. Standing in the middle of the dark cell, Kristen stared at the door, not knowing what to do.

  She heard a cough from down the hall, and faint sounds of men swearing and fighting among themselves. At least, the noise reminded her that she wasn't alone. But they offered her very little comfort indeed.

  Kristen began to pace. She'd never been caged in her life, and she didn't like it at all. She had to get out of here. There had to be a way. She would keep her eyes open and wait for her opportunity, and when the time came she'd escape.

  As the night progressed, Kristen had too much time to think. Why hadn't she stayed behind like Trevor had advised? She wouldn't be in this mess if she had only listened. But, no, she had to be headstrong and try to do something herself.

  Could she ever be an obedient wife to Trevor? Probably not. That word didn't seem to go with her nature. She laughed ruefully. Of course, she would have to live long enough to get out of this place to be a wife. She could end up dangling from the end of a rope.

  Unconsciously, her hands came up and touched her throat. She shut her eyes and pictured herself dangling in mid-air. Her eyes flew open, and she paced some more. She didn't want to shut her eyes again and see the same vision.

  She had killed a man.

  That was hard enough to think about.

  She should feel bad about Ned, but she felt nothing. Ned had never been any good, and she couldn't stand by and let him mistreat Hagan. It bothered her that she had been responsible for a death, but she couldn't feel sorry for removing Ned from the world.

  How was she going to get out of this mess? She reached up and touched her puffy eye. At the moment she was very thankful not to have a mirror. She probably looked like she belonged in jail.

  Finally, Kristen could no longer put one foot in front of another, and she sank down to the hard mat. Reaching for the blanket, she found it surprisingly clean. Trevor's money had probably got her that small favor. She wrapped herself up and stretched out, trying to forget where she was.

  At least in her dreams, she was free.

  Trevor could not sleep. The thoughts of Kristen in jail ate at him.

  He had to get her out. Even though Kristen had broken the law, he knew trials could sometimes take a year or more to come around. He would have to pull a few favors to make sure Kristen would get on the next quarter session.

  He wasted little time dressing, and he didn't even bother to eat his breakfast in his haste to be on his way.

  The carriage had been brought about, and Trevor gave the address of the Justice of the Peace to his driver and settled in the plush interior of his coach.

  While Trevor rode, he thought of Kristen. He could think of nothing else. Her pale face and black eye had haunted him all night She'd been a pitiful sight. If Ned were not already dead, Trevor would have shot him himself.

  There had been no weeping. No tears. Kristen had stood proudly without begging. He couldn't have been more proud of her or her courage. His grandmother would have been proud--on second thought--she'd probably faint dead away at the news that Kristen had shot someone.

  Kristen was a problem . . . .

  And had been since he'd met her. He looked out the carriage window, picturing her petite face. That glorious red hair that framed these emerald eyes could bring any man to his knees. But there was something else about her that kept him intrigued. Her spirit. True, it usually kept her in trouble, but he wouldn't have her any other way.

  He sighed at all his mixed emotions. He could walk away. He could go back to his quiet life with its endless balls and faces that couldn't wait for him to glance their way. Or he could fight to free Kristen, knowing that the trial would cause a scandal. He didn't know whether Kristen would stay with him or return to the Johnstones.

  He could chose dull and boring.

  Or constant chaos.

  Trevor laughed for the first time in two days. There was no contest. The fiery, saucy wench had twisted him around her finger, and he loved every minute of it. And every inch of her. Of course, that was something he'd never tell her.

  The carriage slowed to a stop, bringing Trevor back to his problem. He got out and hurried to the front door of an old family friend, then knocked.

  A butler appeared in minutes, one Trevor didn't recognize. "I would like to see John."

  The butler looked down his nose. "Whom may I say is calling?"

  "The Duke of Chatsworth," Trevor articulated each word, and raised a brow a fraction.

  The man in front of him blinked several times and became flustered. "Begging your pardon, Your Grace. Please enter. I will go and get Mr. Briggs immediately." The butler bowed twice, backing away from the door. This way, if you please." The butler lead the way to a sitting area.

  Trevor didn't laugh until the man was out of the room and then he chuckled at the man's bowing. It had been much too long since he'd seen John. But the Justice of the Peace had been a friend of his grandmother's for years.

  Someone cleared his throat, and Trevor turned around and smiled. "John, it has been a long time." Trevor extended his hand.

  "Much too long, Trevor," John said when he took Trevor's hand.

  "I quite agree. I wish I could say this was just a visit, but I am in need of your help."

  "You sound serious. Please have a seat and tell me what's bothering you." John held his hand out and motioned in the direction of a chair. "But, first, how is Constance?"

  "I take it you've not heard," Trevor said quietly. "I'm sorry to tell you this way, but Grandmere passed away a month ago."

  John frowned. His shock showed and he remained silent for a few minutes. "I'm so sorry. I knew she'd been sick, but I expected she would have many years ahead of her."

  "I did, too."

  "Tell me, how I can help you?"

  "I don't know how to state this, except to be very blunt. My wife is being held in Newgate, and I want her out! Also, I need her trial placed on the docket for the up-coming Quarter Sessions."

  "A duchess in prison? I have never heard of such a thing. I will have her released immediately. How did this happen?"

  "She killed her stepfather."

  John frowned. "That puts a different light on things, I'm afraid. Even I can't grant bail for a murder case. Can you tell me what happened?"

  Trevor explained Kristen's backg
round, leaving nothing out.

  John rubbed his chin. "I can see that this is not a normal case. I will do what I can to make sure she makes the Quarter Sessions. A friend of mine by the name of Dickens Fagin is the Assize judge. I will speak with him. But I do think you have a problem."

  "And that is?"

  "Your wife had a very unsavory background before she married you. I think you will add a lot of credit to her, but you also need her grandfather in court with you."

  "You really think that I need Ian Johnstone?"

  "I do. And you need a solicitor. The word 'murder' will be heard again and again in court. Your lady is going to need as much help as she can get."

  "You do realize that my family and the Johnstones have never gotten along?"

  "Perhaps it is time to reevaluate your relationship. The feud was between your grandmother and the Johnstones, not you and them. Besides, you married a Johnstone," John pointed out. "Think long and hard about it, Trevor."

  Trevor stood. "I appreciate your time, John."

  "Sorry I couldn't help more. But think about what I said."

  Trevor could think of nothing else as he rode to Newgate. He didn't like having Kristen in this place. He also didn't like the fact that he was going to have to beg her family for help. But what else could he do?

  Stepping out of his carriage, Trevor stared at the cold looking building. Prior to yesterday, he'd never given a second thought to who could be behind the bars. Now as he entered the prison, he had never felt so helpless in his life. He would have to concentrate on Kristen's defense or she'd never get out of prison.

  He waited while the warden was summoned.

  "Your Grace." A tall thin man moved into the room. "I am Adam Williams."

  "I would like to see my wife."

  Williams rubbed his chin before he spoke. "With a master Felon, visits are only allowed in the hall with the prisoner behind--"

  "But for a price you can make arrangements," Trevor cut the warden off.

  Williams smiled. "Come with me," he said without further comment as he turned and went back out the door that he'd come through. "I heard we had a special guest, and I made sure we found an empty cell for her. Knew a ward would never do."

  "What is that appalling smell?"

  "It's the stench of Newgate, I'm afraid. After awhile one gets used to the odor."

  "I, quite frankly, don't see how," Trevor muttered as he followed the willowy man through the hallways until they came to a big oak door.

  Williams set his lantern down and pulled out his keys. He opened the door and stepped back so Trevor could enter.

  Trevor ducked down and entered the dark pit. "There is no light."

  Williams followed him with the lantern. "It is a dark day."

  The weak light from the lantern reached into the room, casting long shadows across the filthy floor and shabby interior. Kristen sat huddled in the corner with her arms wrapped around her legs, her head resting on her knees.

  She slowly lifted her gaze, squinting from the light. A slow recognition finally registered in the green eyes he knew so well, and she came off the bed to throw herself in his arms. "I dinna like it here. You must free me."

  "I know, sweetheart." Trevor hugged her.

  After he let her go, he turned to Williams. "Are there no better accommodations? This cell is deplorable."

  "This is, after all, a jail."

  Trevor arched a brow. "Yes, but I bet there are better rooms for a price. Am I right?"

  Williams grinned. "You're a very smart man, Your Grace. For a five hundred pound deposit, I could put her into the Press Yard, and for a few more shillings she'd have clean sheets and blankets," he said with supreme confidence. "When Lord Grodon was incarcerated, he had his servants here also."

  Trevor remembered the stories of Lord Grodon's parties he'd thrown in prison. Trevor realized that Williams intended to get every gold coin he could get his hands on.

  "And how much thereafter?"

  "Ten thousand pounds per week."

  "Done," Trevor stated, then took his wife's arm. That was when he noticed the handcuffs. "I would like these fittings removed also."

  "When we are at the other cell, I will give her easement of irons for a mere three shillings."

  "Let's go," Trevor stated, thinking he would like to take this man out back and beat him to a pulp.

  As they followed Williams, Kristen whispered, "I dinna want tae stay here."

  "I know." Trevor slipped an arm around her and squeezed her shoulder, wishing he could take her with him. "Unfortunately, because of the seriousness of the crime, I can't set you free."

  "But he was no good."

  "I know. Now we'll have to convince a jury of that fact."

  They reached the new cell, which was a vast improvement. It was clean and had plenty of light. It had two beds and the floor was made of oak plank, and it was large enough for the prisoners to walk and move about comfortably.

  Williams waited, his hand outstretched, to collect the money.

  Once the transaction was complete, Kristen was allowed in.

  "Listen to me, Kristen. Don't do anything foolish."

  She looked at Trevor. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Such as?"

  "Swiping the keys and letting yourself out."

  Awkwardly, she cleared her throat. "But, I dinna--"

  "Kristen!"

  "All right," she muttered hastily.

  "I have to go. I will have Rebecca bring over some of your things, and she can stay with you."

  "She doesn't have tae to stay," Kristen said.

  "Rebecca asked to stay with."

  Tears filled Kristen's eyes as she watched Trevor leave. That man was forever making her promise one thing or another. Now she was stuck with no chance of escaping. She just hoped Trevor had a firm plan to get her out of here. This time she would have to trust him. She just hoped she wasn't being bloody stupid. At least, she'd have some company when Rebecca arrived.

  However, deep down she wished Trevor would be the one staying with her. She could stand captivity a little better being held in his arms.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Trevor went to see John Winthrop, a highly recommend barrister. Trevor explained his situation and all of Kristen's background, then sat back and waited as John and his partner, Edward Gates, discussed the case in the next room. Finally, Winthrop came back into the office and sat behind his desk.

  "This is a most interesting case," Winthrop said, then cleared his throat. "My one worry is your wife's background before you married her. By your own admission, she was a thief and quite capable of murder."

  "Kristen didn't murder the man. It was self-defense," Trevor was quick to remind Winthrop.

  "I'm sure it was." Winthrop nodded his head in agreement. "However, the prosecutor might decide to dwell on Kristen's background and further damage her reputation. Does she not have a family who could vouch for her?"

  "She does have a grandfather and a sister," Trevor reluctantly admitted.

  "Then I suggest you have them at court. We will need their help."

  Trevor stood, thanked Winthrop, then left. He had tried everything he could think of to try and avoid this meeting with Ian Johnstone. When it was obvious that Ian was his last resort, he saddled up his horse and made the short trip to the Scotgrow.

  Reigning in his horse, Trevor looked across the green fields at the gray stone manor. He had to admit the home was impressive and nearly as large as Chatsworth. Nearly, he smiled to himself, but Chatsworth was still more impressive. Kristen's relatives had done well for themselves.

  Trevor drew in a long, deep breath. Nothing would happen if he continued to sit here. He nudged his horse and they cleared the final distance to his first meeting with the enemy.

  Trevor was glad he'd sent word of his arrival ahead. He wouldn't have to do any explaining at the door. A rather large brute met him at the door, and showed him to a sitting room, where he waited for Ian to make his appearanc
e. Trevor wasn't too sure how to handle this meeting, but he bloody well wouldn't beg the man for his help.

  "And to what do I owe the honor of this visit?" A Scots voice boomed out behind Trevor.

  Trevor swung around. He wasn't sure what he expected--maybe some small, feeble old man stooped over from the years. Certainly not this hulk of a man who was just as tall as himself, and reasonably fit for his age. He saw the resemblance to Kristen in Ian's sharp, green eyes and his faded reddish-gray hair.

  "I must speak with you. It's a matter of great importance," Trevor said, deciding it was better to come straight to the problem at hand.

  "I dinna believe we have a thin' tae discuss except for Kristen." Ian raised a bushy gray brow. "What have ye done with my granddaughter?"

  "Kristen is exactly what I need to discuss with you." Trevor tried to remain patient, but he feared his anxiety showed in his voice.

  "What have ye done to her?" Ian grabbed Trevor's coat. If ye have hurt the lass, I'll kill ye here and now."

  Trevor shoved the man's hands away from him, and narrowed his eyes. "I haven't done anything with Kristen, but she is in trouble and needs our help. So keep your bloody temper in check. Shall we sit down?" Trevor pointed to a set of tall black chairs that sat opposite each other in front of a huge stone fireplace. "And I'll explain what has happened the best I can."

  Ian grunted and grumbled, muttering under his breath. Finally, after a tense moment, he sat down in one chair and motioned for Trevor to take the other. The perfect place for two opponents.

  "Kristen is in prison," Trevor said bluntly. It wasn't the best place to start, but he wanted Ian to understand the seriousness of the matter.

  "What!" Ian shouted and jumped out of his chair. His face had turned as red as an apple. "By the saints above, what happened?" He threw his hands up in the air as if he expected an answer from the heavens.

  Trevor watched the old man's reaction with a observant eyes. The Scot was too damn excitable. He wondered how much help he would be. "If you don't remain calm, you'll be no bloody help to Kristen," Trevor said between clenched teeth, trying to keep his temper under control. "Let's get one thing straight, I don't like you any more than you like me. However, if we are going to free Kristen, we will have to work together."