The young woman curtsied. “Thank you, Your Grace. Shall I send the doctor in?”
“Yes, please.” Phoebe smiled and then turned to Mary. “What shall I wear to meet my husband’s cousin?”
Chapter 21
They sat in the drawing room, the ladies drinking wine and the men, brandy. Mary had sent over to Wimpole Street for her maid, Susan, who now serenaded them with her lovely piano playing. Little baby Robert slept peacefully in Jorge’s arms. Everyone was relaxing after a very tense day.
“Uh, Your Graces, Duke and Duchess Atwater, my husband and I have a question for you.”
“What is it, Lady Judith?” Phoebe smiled. “Cousin.”
Lady Judith smiled back. “What is to become of this little child?”
“I have promised Charlotte Evans that I will take care of his schooling and well-being.”
“Well,” Judith looked at Jorge and smiled. “Jorge and I would like to adopt him.”
Atwater sat forward. “That’s a huge responsibility, cousin. Are you sure?”
Lady Judith looked at her husband and smiled sweetly.
“We are very sure, Your Grace,” Jorge answered.
“You see, Robert, I’m unable to have children of my own. This little darling has stolen both my husband’s heart and my own. Jorge’s family makes wine. We have no money worries. I would like to go to the jail and ask Charlotte Evans if she will sign a paper giving us complete custody of her son. And the guarantee to never contact him. Ever.”
“It sounds like she and Jorge are sure about this, Robert.” Phoebe smiled.
“Well, here, here, then. Let us have a toast. Terence, get a few bottles of the French bubbles my wife so enjoys, will you?” Atwater smiled back at Phoebe, and everyone began talking at once, laughing and joking, kissing on the cheeks and patting each other on the back.
*******
“But where am I to go?”
The lieutenant shrugged. “Wherever you like, Miss McGowan. But the Duke and Duchess choose to press no charges against you. Your crimes have been cancelled out due to the fact that you saved the lives of the Duke and Duchess of Atwater.”
“So I’m free to go?”
“You are.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“My pleasure, Miss McGowan. Oh, and you may as well take this.” He handed her Charlotte’s frock. “It was taken from Charlotte Evans when she came in. She was given a prison smock to wear. And she will be wearing that smock for a long time.”
“Oh. I see. Well, thank you again, Lieutenant.”
Olivia walked out of the jail. She knew that Bruce and Charlotte would be incarcerated until their trials. Bruce was to be tried for kidnap and attempted murder of a member of the peerage. Charlotte was to be tried for kidnapping and intent to murder a member of the peerage.
She sighed, realizing that she’d been given a new lease of life. But where to go? She headed to Covent Garden. It had been just a few hours since they’d been taken to the prison. She knew the room had not been let as Charlotte had secured it for the night.
She entered the building. Young Smothers was asleep at the desk, and she quickly got past him. She headed up to the third floor. Once inside the room, she lit the lantern off the spill she pressed against an ember in the tiny fireplace. She looked around. Charlotte’s belongings were still in the room. Well, she wouldn’t need them where she was going.
She sat on the bed, her reticule open beside her. She began to go through Charlotte’s things. There were twenty gold sovereigns wrapped inside a chemise.
Olivia remembered something. She went to the clothes press and removed Charlotte’s five frocks. In the hems of all, there was jewellery. Olivia slashed the seams and gasped.
There was all manner of brooches made from emeralds, pink topazes, and diamonds. There were coral earrings and a brooch, and there were loose gems, with no settings. There was a veritable fortune. Charlotte must have stolen from every family she’d ever worked for.
Olivia checked the dress the lieutenant had given her. Sure enough, the hem was loaded with even more jewellery. What to do? Olivia thought that for sure some of the jewellery or gems must belong to the real Lady Judith. Charlotte had lived in the woman’s house. In her chambers.
There was nothing to do about it now. Olivia was exhausted. She lay on the bed and was asleep before her head touched the pillow.
*******
A few days later, Judith and Jorge prepared to go to the jail with little Robert. Judith’s heart was particularly soft when it came to women and their children.
They pulled up to the prison building in a hired hackney. Jorge assisted his wife out of the carriage, and they went inside, Jorge holding the baby.
Charlotte had been thinking long and hard about her crimes. She hadn’t killed Jacob, even though she knew that there were those who believed she had. However, since it could never be proven, she was to be charged only with the kidnap with intent to murder. No one knew about the side crimes of theft and working the deserted country roads at night as a highwayman. She smirked. She’d been mighty surprised the night she and her partner had attempted to rob a carriage only to find the Duke of Atwater and his party. She’d thought herself lucky, indeed, that he hadn’t recognized her voice.
She knew that she’d be defending herself. She’d realized that one day she might be caught and in a position such as she was in. She reckoned the very least she would get in sentencing was a branded thumb. But when would that be? She could be in this place for months, possible years before her defence would be heard.
She’d decided to write a letter to the powers that be asking to be sent to the Colonies. The United States. She could start over there. She was still young, just twenty-three. No one would know her past. She could make up a new one. And she was very good at that.
“Evans.” The sound of the guard’s voice tore her from her reverie.
“Yes? What?”
“You have visitors.”
“No. There must be some mistake.”
“You’re Charlotte Evans, are you not?”
“I am. You know this.”
“Well, you have visitors. Follow me.” He bound her hands behind her and shackled her ankles.
They walked down a long corridor. Charlotte’s mind was racing. The only person she could figure it might be would be Jacob, and she prayed it wasn’t him. He would want to take the child.
They entered a sort of sitting room, a table and chairs and some other chairs against a wall. There was a window high in the wall covered with bars.
Charlotte looked up, and her breath caught. “Lady Judith.”
Judith stood. “Hello, Charlotte. I don’t imagine you ever expected to see me again.”
She didn’t answer.
“I have someone here to visit you. Jorge.”
Jorge entered the room with little Robert.
Charlotte went to the boy.
“Mama.”
“Oh yes, my darling. Mama loves you so much. More than anything. Please, always remember, darling. Mama loves Robert.” She smiled through tears then turned to Lady Judith.
“Why do you do this? Why do you bring him here?”
Lady Judith untied Charlotte’s hands and led her to a chair. Her husband brought the baby to Charlotte so she could hold him.
“Charlotte, I, or we rather, would like to adopt Robert.”
“Adopt? I don’t understand.”
“If you sign this paper you give us all parental rights regarding your son. And we love him, Charlotte. He will have the finest of everything. We will take him back to our estate outside of Seville.”
“But why? Why would you, of all people, want to adopt my child?”
“Because I cannot have children. And because we can give him what his mother went to prison trying to give him.”
“And you will take care of him? Always?”
“We will. This is my husband, Jorge. We’ve made this decision together.”
> “Yes, I remember you,” Charlotte spoke to Jorge.
“If you need a little time to think about it …”
“No, Lady Judith. I need no time. I give you my son with my blessing. Where do I sign on the paper?”
“Here.” Judith pointed to the line. “Your son will be Lord Robert when we are in England, Charlotte.”
“Oh,” Charlotte whispered, “thank you, My Lady. Thank you.”
“Well, that’s that, I suppose. Would you like a moment alone with him?”
Charlotte made a stoic effort to stop the tears that rolled down her face. “No, My Lady, he is your son now.”
Chapter 22
Phoebe and Atwater were having breakfast, basking in the sense of normalcy that now rested over their home. One month had passed since the abduction, and Lady Judith had gone back to Seville.
“What shall we do today, love?”
“Oh, we could go for a ride in the park. Or perhaps a whist game with the Radcliffes. I’d very much like to have them over.”
“Why I haven’t seen Tom in a fortnight. That’s a splendid idea, my love. I’ll send a note straight away.”
“Wonderful. There’s something I want to share with them.”
Atwater was writing his note and half listening. “Mm-hmmm.” He folded the note and gave it to Terence to hand off to Jimmy. “Yes, my love you have something to share with the Radcliffes.”
“I do.” Phoebe had another sip of chocolate.
Atwater gazed at her, enjoying the pert figure she presented in her morning dress, her hair in curls and tied up with a ribbon. “You know, my darling, sometimes you look so beautiful, I need to remind myself that you are, indeed, my very own wife.”
Phoebe giggled. “Is that so, Your Grace?”
“Yes it is, and I don’t think I could ever be happier than I am at this moment.”
“What if I were to tell you something that, I believe, would add to the happiness of this moment?”
“What could that possibly be?” He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips.
“What if I were to tell you, Your Grace …”
The ringing of the bell at the front door interrupted their loving exchange.
“Are you expecting anyone, darling? Mary, perhaps?”
“I am not.”
“Your Grace.” Terence entered the room with a tiny silver tray. A letter had been carefully placed in its centre.
“What was that racket about, Terence?”
“The letter, Your Grace. It’s from Scotland.” Terence hurried from the room.
Phoebe laughed. “Oh if you could see your face, Robert!”
“Shall I do the honours or would you like to.”
“Please, Your Grace.” Phoebe bowed her head in a charmingly flirtatious way. Robert, once again thanked his lucky stars.
“Hmm. Your good cousin, the Duke of Carlisle, will be visiting London. He requests if he may stay here.”
“Oh. La! He is such a bore. You know, I don’t recall ever hearing of his lecherous behaviour prior to the last time he visited. Right after my father, God rest his soul, was taken from us. I happen to know he was absolutely devoted to the late Duchess. My father told me that the Duke had been heartbroken to lose his wife. She died in childbed.”
“Grief has driven more men to baser things than being an obnoxious prig. I vote to have him here. However, if you do not wish it, I will alert him. I will of course, as a gentleman, make something up as to a reason why.” Atwater chuckled.
Once more Phoebe giggled. “So when does my dear cousin arrive?”
“Let’s see, September 2nd.”
“Darling.”
“Yes, love.”
“This is September 2nd.”
Atwater checked the newspaper. “Well, well. I guess the Duke will be making his arrival imminently. Wonderful.” He smiled wryly not having any idea of how things might turn out.
*******
Olivia was down to the last gold sovereign. She’d paid the hotel bill and sold Charlotte’s frocks. She had some gems and jewellery in her reticule. She’d also taken a pointer from her mentor and sewn other, more expensive pieces, into the hem of the frock she wore. She also had a pair of old-fashioned pockets sewn to a ribbon that she tied around her waist under her skirt. And she had the haphazard collection of silver Charlotte had made her steal from the Atwaters. It was time to pay a visit.
She gathered everything she needed. She had the reticule, and the best frock she owned was on her body. She sat and waited at the top of the stairs until the Smothers boy left his post at the desk inside the hotel. And when he stepped out, she ran down the steps to see which way he went. Then she went the opposite.
She was on her way to Regent Street.
She hoped upon hope that the Atwaters would believe her. She’d acted horribly towards them. She wanted to apologize and return the silver and anything else she might have that possibly had belonged to Lady Judith Barton.
She walked at a brisk pace so she wouldn’t lose her nerve. Why had she not listened to her first inklings as far as Charlotte Evans had been concerned? When they’d been in Spain, Olivia had thought there’d been peculiar occurrences. And when the real Lady Judith was ill, Olivia left the staff.
The next time she’d seen Charlotte as Lady Judith she’d been alternately impressed and horrified. Where had the actual Lady gone?
She’d told Duchess Atwater what had transpired, but then somehow everything had backfired. Olivia had found herself learning the art of the con artist. From Charlotte Evans.
Conning was one thing, but when Charlotte began to talk murder, Olivia had become afraid of her. And, she reckoned, Charlotte Evans could smell fear.
What had she done? Olivia not only found herself alone, she feared she would not be able to find domestic work. She had no letters of reference. The one she’d had from Lady Judith had disappeared. Of course, Olivia suspected Charlotte, but she’d gone through all of Charlotte’s belongings after she’d been taken to prison.
The reference letter had been nowhere, and Olivia reckoned it had been destroyed. She prayed that by returning the silver pieces to Regent Street she would be able to procure another.
*******
“What do you mean he’s not in his cell, Lieutenant? This is highly improbable.” Colonel Drake was red in the face. All he needed was an attempted murderer disappearing from the confines of his prison.
“Sir, he got to the window somehow. He actually filed through the bars. He must have begun his deed that very night. It’s been one month, and he managed to file through all eight bars. The file must have been hidden in his boot when we brought him in.”
“In his boot? Why was the man not searched? Why was he not restrained while in the cell? Now you tell me that he’s escaped.”
Falling for the Heartbroken Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 25