by Darcy Burke
The Marquess of Wolverton had been the one killed? No wonder Bow Street had followed Ethan to the end of England. One didn’t kill a peer and get away with it. Not that he’d done it, but Bow Street thought he had. “I can. It wasn’t Ethan.”
“I don’t understand.” Philippa crossed her arms over her chest. “Why wouldn’t you have gone back to London together if you could prove his innocence?”
Audrey exhaled. She’d have to tell them the truth—or at least part of it. “We didn’t discuss the specifics of what he’d done. I didn’t realize who he was accused of murdering until now.”
But how she wished they had. If he’d been honest with her, she could’ve told him she’d been there, that she would give the testimony that would save him from hanging. Her neck chilled. If she’d been honest with him about why she’d been dressed as a gentleman, he would’ve realized she was there that night and maybe he would’ve told her his truth. They’d both been foolish, and now they were paying the price.
“You didn’t really see anything, did you?” Sevrin asked quietly.
“I saw enough. And I was there. I’ll be able to prove it. I won a large sum of money at hazard.” Which she and Ethan had spent on their travels.
Philippa gasped. “Audrey!”
Sevrin moved toward Audrey and pinned her with a serious stare. “Ethan says Gin Jimmy killed Wolverton. He was dressed in Lockwood livery.”
Audrey nodded slowly. “I saw him leaving the terrace.” She recalled Lord Lockwood and the man—now that she thought about it, she was sure that had been Teague, the Bow Street Runner—had gone onto the terrace. “Was Wolverton killed on the terrace?”
“Yes.”
Audrey’s heart sang. She hadn’t seen Gin Jimmy commit the murder, but she absolutely believed he had. “I’m going to say I saw Gin Jimmy kill Wolverton.”
Philippa came to her side and touched her arm. “You’re going to lie?”
She’d do that and more. “I’ll do whatever is necessary to save the man I love.”
Audrey barely slept that night and finally gave up trying just before sunrise. She dressed and went downstairs just as the sun was creeping over the horizon. Where was Ethan? Was he sleeping? Was he as distraught as her? Was he well?
Her heart clenched and she fought to take a deep breath. She went through the solar to a small room that led to the back terrace. She grabbed a bonnet and a wrap hanging from a hook and went out into the cool morning. Sea mist dampened her cheeks as she awkwardly tied the ribbon beneath her chin. The wrap was large and soft, something Mrs. Gates had knitted, Philippa had told her. It was also warm and comforting. She tried to imagine Ethan’s arms around her in place of it.
She was anxious to leave. Sevrin had promised they would depart early, but until they were actually on the road moving toward London, she wouldn’t relax. Hell, she probably wouldn’t even relax then. Listen to her, swearing. She smiled, missing Ethan and his foul but delectable mouth.
She walked through the yard to where there was a gate in the wall. Philippa had told her it led to a path that wound along the cliff side and then down to the beach. Audrey had hoped she and Ethan could walk to the beach together before they left for Guernsey. Now, alone, she went to the edge and looked out at the waves. Waves she ought to have been riding to her new life. With Ethan.
They could still have that life. He wouldn’t hang before she got to London—she wasn’t even a full day behind him. She’d tell her story, and he’d be freed. Maybe Bow Street would even apprehend Gin Jimmy, which would solve that problem too. Free from pursuit, they could stay in London; he could be close to his brother. But what sort of life would they have? He’d been marginally accepted as the curious long-lost brother of the scandalous and allegedly mad Lord Lockwood, but once the ton became aware of his criminal background, he’d be ostracized. And her reputation, such as it was, had to be ruined by now.
It didn’t matter to her where they lived, so long as they were together.
The breeze rustled the grass at her feet and the shrubbery dotting the cliff side. It was a bit noisy, but soothingly so. She could imagine living here, actually.
When the hands grabbed her arms, she inhaled sharply. When the palm came over her mouth, she jumped. When the voice hissed in her ear, “Don’t say nothin’ or we’ll just save ourselves the trouble o’ haulin’ ye back to London and slit yer throat right ’ere,” her stomach curled in on itself and her knees gave out.
The smell of unwashed flesh overcame the soft, fresh sea air and filled her nose until she thought she might pass out. She turned her head to see the assailant to her right. He was a bit shorter than her, with greasy black hair and a pockmarked face. The man on her left was taller with a short crop of sandy hair and small, vicious eyes. His lips spread in a nasty grin. “I’m Perkins and that’s Bird. If ye keep yer mouth shut and yer hands to yerself, ye’ll make it to London in one piece. Can ye do that?”
She nodded. Bird’s hand loosened over her mouth, but both men kept a tight hold on her arms. “Do you work for Gin Jimmy?”
Perkins’ grin widened. “We do.”
Her knees shook. How could she help Ethan if she was Gin Jimmy’s captive? And would she be just a captive? “What are you going to do with me?”
“Gin Jimmy wants ye,” Perkins said. “He wanted yer man too, but that damned Runner got to ’im first. No matter, Jimmy’ll get him one way or another.”
They knew Ethan had gone with Teague. And they wanted her anyway. Which had to mean they planned to use her to lure Ethan into some sort of trap where Gin Jimmy could exact his revenge. Audrey lifted her chin. “He’s in custody, and I’m the only person who can free him.”
The criminals exchanged looks and then laughed. “Ye don’t know Gin Jimmy!” Bird cackled. “Yer man’ll get out and come right for ye.”
Perkins sobered and gave her a hard look. “Time to go. Remember, don’t scream or do nothin’ else to draw attention. I’d hate for ye to get to London in more than one piece.”
Audrey’s blood ran colder than the Thames in winter. As they dragged her toward their pair of horses, she wondered how she was going to endure the journey to London. She quickly realized that was only the beginning of this nightmare.
Chapter Seventeen
Ethan lay on his bed in his basement cell at Bow Street and stared at the ceiling. Two other prisoners lay on their beds, to which they were each shackled. Ethan had spent the last night the same as the previous five: frantic with worry about Audrey.
Was she well? Was she on her way to London? Did she even want to come to London now that he’d been arrested?
The door opened and Teague walked into the windowless room. He was a large, beefy man, which made the low ceiling seem even lower.
“Sleep well?” Teague asked, though his sarcastic tone said he didn’t actually give a damn.
Ethan sat up. “Let’s get this over with.”
Teague gazed at him with stark superiority. “In a hurry to get to Newgate?”
Which is where he’d go to await trial if the magistrates found the evidence against Ethan sufficient. Teague unlocked the shackle around Ethan’s ankle.
Ethan massaged his lower leg before drawing his boots on. “Has my brother arrived?”
“He is, in fact, waiting in the courtroom. Carlyle, too.” Teague said the last with a tone of irritation.
Carlyle had come? Ethan didn’t know if he was friend or foe. Ethan had saved his life, but Carlyle had made no secret of the fact that if he had to choose between Ethan and the law, the law would always win out. Perhaps Jason had convinced him to come, but Ethan didn’t know why.
“I’ve waited a long time for this day,” Teague said slowly, deliberately. “But I won’t truly celebrate until the hood is placed over your head and you’re swinging from the rope.”
Ethan understood the man’s anger and sadness over the loss of his sister, as well as he understood the need for revenge. However, at no time in the long ye
ars in which he’d hated his brother had he wished for Jason’s demise. He only wanted him to feel the pain of loneliness Ethan had endured. “It’s a dangerous thing to want another man’s death.”
Teague’s head snapped up. “As if you haven’t wanted that.”
Ethan stood. “I have, but I’ve only killed when I had to, for my own survival. We’re human, Teague. It’s the one thing we fight for from the moment we enter this godforsaken world.”
Teague was quiet a long moment. “I’m a man of the law. I want you to pay the price for what you’ve done—and that’s hanging.” He moved toward Ethan, holding his gaze as his eyes narrowed. “Yes, you’ve survived. But you have to live with your actions. How do you do that?”
Ethan allowed the remorse and regret he worked so hard to repress wash over him like a cleansing wave. Only he didn’t feel clean. He’d never feel clean. “Not very well, I’m afraid. Do I look as if I’m living a dream life?”
In truth, he’d been so close. Closer than he’d ever imagined. But Teague only reminded him that he didn’t deserve it. And maybe that’s why it hadn’t come to pass.
Teague opened the door and held it open for him. “Let’s go.”
Ethan picked up his coat from the bed and shrugged into its wrinkled folds. He was a rumpled mess from traveling so many days, but there was nothing he could do about it save knot his cravat the best he could, which he’d done earlier.
He paused beside Teague and looked him in the eye. “I didn’t do this.”
Teague bared his teeth. “I don’t believe you.” He jerked his head toward the door.
Ethan kept his head up as he preceded Teague from the cell. They went upstairs to the ground floor and made their way to the courtroom.
Several people stood about the room. They were prosecutors or witnesses, perhaps even spectators who’d heard Gin Jimmy’s closest ally was appearing today. Or, they’d learned Mr. Ethan Locke wasn’t all he’d purported to be.
Ethan stepped over the threshold and looked for his brother. Relief sagged through him when he saw him standing near the dock. Jason pivoted toward him, the nasty scar Ethan had caused standing out on his left cheek. Ethan suppressed a wave of self-loathing. He couldn’t indulge any unnecessary emotion today. Everything inside him needed to be directed to gaining his freedom.
Ethan recognized Carlyle standing beside Jason, but there were two other men with them.
Carlyle gave Ethan a quick nod and gestured to a thickset fellow. “Allow me to introduce my friend, the solicitor Jeremy Bates. He’s brought along a colleague to stand with you today. Lockwood has apprised him of the situation.”
The fourth man, a young, slender gentleman, inclined his head toward Ethan. “Mr. Harworth at your service. Shall we proceed?” He gestured for Ethan to precede him up to the raised dock against the wall on the right side of the room. The magistrates’ table was opposite, with the well of the court between them. This is where witnesses gave their testimony and where Teague took himself. Jason and Carlyle joined him in the well.
The three magistrates were seated at the table. The one in the center, a portly fellow with a ruddy complexion scrutinized Ethan. “Ethan Jagger?”
“Ethan Lockwood, your worship” Jason answered.
Ethan grabbed the railing in front of him for support. So much for suppressing emotion. His knees nearly buckled from Jason’s declaration. He looked down at Jason, but his brother was glaring at the magistrates. Glaring. Ethan nearly smiled at how good that felt.
“Indeed?” the magistrate asked, while the one to the left scribbled a note. “Teague, is this the correct man?”
Teague sent Ethan a harassed look. “Yes, he is. He has several aliases, your worship.”
The magistrate nodded. “We’ll address him as Mr. Lockwood then. Mr. Lockwood, you are charged with murdering the Marquess of Wolverton.”
“I am not guilty of that crime,” Ethan said. Harworth elbowed him discreetly and he added, “Your worship.”
The magistrate on the right cleared his throat. “Mr. Teague, you have evidence to present?”
“I do. I witnessed Mr. Jagger, pardon, Mr. Lockwood, standing over the marquess’s body holding the knife used to stab him to his death.” Teague glanced at Jason. “Lord Lockwood witnessed the same scene.”
The magistrate turned his attention to Jason. “Is this true?”
“Yes, your worship,” Jason said coldly. “However, I did not witness him stabbing Wolverton. He merely picked up the knife.” He glowered at Teague. “Mr. Teague didn’t witness the murder, either.”
“Is this true, Teague?” the magistrate in the middle asked.
“It is, but Mr. Jagger, pardon, Mr. Lockwood, is a known criminal. He claims Gin Jimmy, a crime lord of some fame, committed the murder, but I believe they worked in tandem. I know they were cohorts. Your worship, I have other evidence that ties Mr. Lockwood to the murder of Lady Aldridge.”
The magistrate’s dark brows—at odds with his gray hair—rose. “Are you charging him with that today also?”
Teague grimaced, and the flesh around his mouth paled. “Unfortunately, no. The primary witness has gone missing.”
That would’ve been Oak. What had happened to him?
The magistrate on the right grunted, while the one on the left wrote more notes. The magistrate in the center turned his attention to Lord Carlyle. “Lord Carlyle, what are you doing here today?”
“I came to hear the evidence, your worship. It is my belief that Gin Jimmy committed the murder of Wolverton, as well as the murder of Lord Lockwood’s footman, without the assistance of Mr. Lockwood.”
Teague gestured to the magistrate’s table. “That knife is the weapon Mr. Lockwood was holding over Wolverton’s corpse. Upon inspection, you will see it is inscribed with a J.” Teague turned his head and smirked at Ethan. “For Jagger.”
Ethan sneered. “It’s for Jimmy, you half-wit.”
Mr. Harworth touched Ethan’s arm briefly before addressing the magistrates. “The inscription on the knife is not conclusive evidence that it belongs to Mr. Lockwood.”
The center magistrate picked up the weapon and examined it. “Is this your knife, Mr. Jagger?” That he’d reverted to Ethan’s criminal name tensed Ethan’s muscles. He didn’t dare correct him and was relieved when no one else did either. He wanted to be recognized as a Lockwood, but he wanted his freedom more.
“No, your worship.”
“And you didn’t use it to kill Lord Wolverton?”
“No, your worship.”
The magistrate frowned. He exchanged glances with the other two magistrates, who were also frowning. They spoke to each other in low tones, their discussion impossible to hear from Ethan’s location.
Ethan’s attention was drawn to the waiting area to the left as a pair of men made their way rather close to the dock. He recognized Sevrin, who was accompanied by his friend, the Earl of Saxton. Ethan looked for Audrey, who surely would be with him, but couldn’t find her in the crowd. He felt a moment’s relief—he wasn’t sure he wanted her to see him like this—but it was short-lived as he registered the lines around Sevrin’s mouth. Something was wrong.
At last the magistrate in the center addressed the room. “As much as it pains me, Teague, I’m not sure you have quite enough to commit him to trial.”
“I’m an eyewitness. Surely that should be enough.” Teague sounded desperate.
Sevrin went up to the dock and whispered to Ethan and the barrister, “There’s a witness who saw the murder and will testify that it wasn’t Mr. Locke.”
Mr. Harworth leaned down toward Sevrin. “Where is he?”
Sevrin glanced at Ethan and the lines around his mouth deepened. “Unfortunately, she’s unavailable.”
She.
Ethan didn’t have to wonder who Sevrin referenced. He bit the side of his mouth to keep from exploding. What the hell had happened?
Harworth frowned. “When will she be available?”
Sevrin’s expression was pained. “That will depend. She’s an estimable member of Society. Will that help his cause?”
“What are you discussing?” one of the magistrates asked in a booming voice.
Harworth straightened. “We beg your pardon, your worships. We’re discussing another witness who is currently unavailable. She saw who committed the murder and will testify that it was not Mr. Lockwood.”
The magistrate on the left made more notes while the one on the right asked, “Who is this witness?”
“Miss Audrey Cheswick,” Sevrin answered. “Her grandfather is Lord Farringdon.”
The magistrates exchanged looks again and then nods. The one on the right addressed Teague. “You don’t have enough to charge Mr. Lockwood with the murder of Wolverton, especially if this other, quite credible, witness is able to give testimony.” He looked up at Ethan. “Mr. Lockwood, you are free to go.”
Mr. Harworth clapped Ethan on the shoulder and escorted him from the dock. Ethan was bursting with nervous energy about whatever had happened to Audrey.
Jason and Carlyle came out of the well, followed by Teague, who paused only long enough to say, “I’ll find a way to see you hang.” Then he stormed from the courtroom.
Ethan didn’t take even a moment’s respite to celebrate. He turned toward Sevrin. “Where’s Audrey?”
Sevrin looked even more pained than he had in the dock. “I don’t know. She disappeared the morning after you left.”
Ethan wanted to wrap his hands around Sevrin’s neck because he was the closest person he could punish. The earth was falling out from beneath him and he was going to tumble into a black abyss. “What the fuck do you mean by ‘disappeared’?”
“She was just gone. No one saw her leave. It appeared she rose early—some of her clothing was gone—and went for a walk. There was a wrap by the door to the terrace and it’s missing, as if she went out that way and took the wrap with her. I think she went to the cliff side path. We searched, but there was no sign of her.”
Jason wrapped his hand around Ethan’s elbow, the contact giving him a physical support he hadn’t realized he needed. “What do you think happened to her?”