Almost Yours (Ladies of Scandal Book 3)

by Hilly Mason

  Isla had given him a ticket earlier that day, saying that that she liked seeing him in the audience while she performed. She also told him to meet with him after the show, since she promised him she would have thought of something by then. Of course, she had yet to know what he had done earlier in the day, so he planned to take the opportunity to formally say goodbye to her.

  A small street urchin came up to him as he was about to enter the theater. The boy handed him at slip of paper before scampering off. Jack made sure that no eyes were on him before he unfolded the note. It was in his brother’s messy handwriting. With his outgoing personality, Milton had an extensive network of acquaintances throughout Philadelphia. If he had gone through this great lengths to send him a letter so indirectly, it was serious indeed.

  He’s going to get rid of the Ms and take your woman and her inheritance. Be ready. It can happen tonight.

  Of course, Milton was speaking of Gregory. Because Milton knew so many people, it was easy for him to spy on others, especially on a particular man like Gregory who liked to drink to excess and boast about his accomplishments. Jack pondered the letter. The Ms, of course, meant the Murrays. And the woman, Isla. Get rid of? What did he mean by that? Did Gregory plan to kill the Murrays?

  There was only one reason for him to do that. He wanted their money. He was Mr. Murray’s distant cousin and would inherit their property, being the next male in line. And then to marry Isla? He doubted Isla would agree to that.

  Isla seemed more subdued than usual as she performed her tricks with Golden. Her motions seemed somewhat mechanical. Where was her mind taking her? Jack wondered. Did she already know of Gregory’s plan?

  And would he be able to put an end to Gregory before Jack was ultimately arrested? Isla said that she would think about leaving to go back to England. Perhaps that was good enough to keep her safe. He would tell her to leave tonight, stow away in a ship if she had to, to stay away from Gregory for good.

  After the show, he found his way behind stage and watched from a distance as Isla and Gregory appeared to be arguing. Isla threw her arms in the air in exasperation as Gregory kept shaking his head. Then, quicker than he could blink, Gregory slapped Isla across the face. A cold-blooded fury poured through Jack’s veins. He pushed aside the guards blocking his path and punched Gregory square in the jaw.

  Like a giant gale had suddenly blown through, Gregory whipped around and fell to his knees. He then turned back around and glared up at Jack as he held his jaw in his hands. His eyes were bloodshot as though he had been drinking.

  “I should have known,” Gregory said as he spat out blood. “It’s not over yet, Lord Craig. You’re going to pay for this.” He tripped over his feet as he ran down the hall and through the back entrance.

  Jack let out a breath and crouched down next to Isla. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m supposed to save myself, yet you always come and save me instead,” Isla shouted at him. She hit his chest, not hard, but he still held on to her tightly. “Dammit, I never wanted to fall in love, but you’re making it so damn hard.”

  The iciness of his heart thawed just a bit at her words, but he knew better than to let it affect him completely.

  “We need to find Gregory, before he finds your parents first.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He handed her the letter. She snatched it from his hands and quickly read it.

  “Marry me? Over my dead body.”

  Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, he thought. “You need to run. Find somewhere safe. I’ll take care of him.”

  “Like hell I’m running,” Isla said, pushing herself up off the ground. “I’m going with you. I want to kill the bastard myself.”

  Jack then realized how badly the woman was shaking. “What’s wrong, Isla?”

  “I-I didn’t ken...”

  “Didn’t know what?”

  “He was abusing Golden, Jack. Hitting her, starving her. I—I wasn’t there for her when she needed me.”

  Jack put his hand on her shoulder “We’ll fix this. But we need to leave. Now.”

  They took a city carriage to the Murrays’ estate. Once they arrived, they immediately spotted Gregory walking towards the manor, holding a pistol in his hand.

  All the blood drained from Jack’s face. There was no way of getting out of this without someone getting hurt, or killed.

  “He’s not very stealthy,” Isla remarked.

  “I’m going after him.”

  “Aye, and I’m going with you.”

  “No, Isla. Please,” he insisted. “Stay hidden.”

  To his great relief, Isla nodded her head. “Fine I’ll stay put.”

  He made to go, but then turned back towards Isla. “I told the Lockhearts the truth. I expect I’ll be arrested at any time now.”

  “You what?” she gasped. “I told ye to wait!”

  “I’m not running away anymore, Isla. Besides, there’s one more thing I need to do.”

  He gave her a swift kiss on the lips before leaving, not giving her a chance to say anything else.

  Gregory was almost to the door when Jack came up behind him and hooked the man’s neck with his elbow. Jack landed hard on his back, with Gregory squirming on top of him, uttering a string of curses. He had dropped his gun, which fell beside Jack’s hip.

  Gregory was surprisingly strong as he struggled against Jack’s tight hold, and it took great deal of effort to keep the man from escaping. Hearing the commotion, Mr. Murray poked his head out of the window.

  “What in God’s name is going on out here? Townshend? Craig?” He disappeared from the window only to materialize at the entrance door.

  “He’s got a gun!” Gregory gasped, as Jack continued to choke him with the crook of his elbow. “He’s was going to shoot you!”

  “What?”

  “Shut up, you idiot,” Jack hissed at Gregory.

  “That’s enough.”

  Jack looked up to find the pistol pointed at his face. Mr. Murray was behind it, holding the weapon with a steady hand. “Let Gregory go.”

  Cursing silently, he released Gregory.

  “He was going to rob you, just like his brother did,” Gregory told him, rubbing his raw neck.

  Mr. Murray’s face went red with rage, from his chest all the way up to his hairline. When he spoke, his words were eerily calm. “The servants made a call to the sheriff. They’re on their way to arrest you, although it’s tempting to just shoot you here on the spot and be done with it.”

  “Yes, I already know the sheriff is on his way,” Jack spat at him. “They’re coming to arrest you too for murder of Theodore Lockheart!”

  Mr. Murray did not seem fazed by his words. “I doubt that will happen,” he said. “The sheriff and I have an… agreement of sorts. But until then…” He lowered the gun and grabbed Jack by the collar, and with a surprisingly amount of strength for an older man, he hauled him onto his feet. Mr. Murray then pushed him forward towards the door and into the house, the barrel of the gun pressed against his back, behind his heart. “I’m locking you in the drawing room, Craig.”

  Mrs. Murray was just on the other side of the door and seemed to have heard everything. She followed her husband into the room and watched as Jack was unceremoniously thrown to the ground. Mr. Murray proceeded to tie up his wrists and ankles after tearing down the decorative cords from the drapes.

  “Leave us,” Mrs. Murray told the other two men once Mr. Murray tightened Jack’s bindings. “I need to speak with Lord Craig.” Her eyes then flickered behind the men to the window, where Isla could be seen running up towards the house. “And keep the girl away, too.” Before the men could protest, she ushered them out and shut the door, leaving her and Jack alone.

  “I saw what Gregory was doing,” she said softly to him. “I saw him with the gun.”

  Jack swallowed. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I’m tired of hiding it.” She walked over to the settee and sat down
heavily before burying her head in her hands. “Gregory was just using me for our money.”

  “You’re not really Isla’s parents, are you?”

  “No, of course not,” she replied with surprising ease. But then her defenses broke and she started sobbing. “Oh, I’ve made a terrible mistake. The poor girl. I’m going to hell. I just know it!”

  “Why did you lead her on in the first place?” Jack asked.

  Mrs. Murray took out a handkerchief and blew her nose, emitting an indelicate honking noise. “You see, we were just traveling to Inverness one evening when we came across an abandoned carriage. There were two bodies inside: a man and a woman. It looked as though they had been robbed by a highwayman and left for dead. As we continued on we came across a red-headed child with a terrible bump on her head. We took her to the orphanage outside of Inverness and then went on our way. I thought nothing more of the girl until I started reading articles about Isla in the newspapers.”

  “What made you believe that Isla was this girl you found in Scotland?”

  Mrs. Murray sniffled. “A lucky guess. We read the article about her being an orphan and thought that by convincing her that we were her parents, she would come to America and make us some money.” She smiled sheepishly at him. “We’re not kind people,” she said, which then brought a new wave of tears.

  Jack was starting to get a terrible headache. He shook his head. A highwayman… why did that seem so familiar to him?

  “Where did you find their carriage?” he asked softly, although he thought he already knew.

  “Does it matter? On Ciarach Road, I believe.”

  It did matter. When he and Milton escaped during a family in Edinburgh, they had traveled northward to the Highlands. When they were at a fork in the road near the town of Inverness, a fancy carriage passed by them, heading up Ciarach Road towards Aberdeen. A few minutes later a man in a dark cloak on horseback came up to the boys and asked what direction the carriage had gone. The man told them that he was a policeman and that the people in the carriage were in need of his assistance.

  Being the young boys that they were, Milton and Jack believed the man and pointed him towards Ciarach Road.

  Remembering that, Jack doubled over and vomited. He vaguely heard Mrs. Murray’s dismayed shriek as he ruined her expensive Persian rug.

  Because of his actions, Isla’s real parents had died. Because of him he had led Isla away from her home in England to America, causing her more grief when all she wanted was closure.

  “He drugged you.”

  He blinked up at Mrs. Murray. “What are you talking about?”

  “My husband… he slipped laudanum in your drink. Gregory and my husband were the ones who went out to kill poor Mr. Lockheart. They later coerced you to believing that you did it. All of the memories you think you had of that night… it was all a lie, a mere story that they had concocted! Mr. Lockheart fell into the river, aye, but it was because of those two men.” She paused, and looked down at her hands. “And because of me. I sent them after him.”

  Jack licked his suddenly dry lips. “Why are you telling me this?”

  She had a distant look in her eyes. “Because it’s all over anyway,” she said softly. “And she’s a good lass. She deserves to know the truth.”

  Before Jack could ask any more questions, Gregory and Mr. Murray burst through the door. Isla stood behind the men, her face pale.

  “It was you!” Mr. Murray roared, the pistol one again pointed at Jack. “You were the one who assaulted my wife!”

  “Don’t kill him!” Mrs. Murray screamed, rising up to her feet.

  “What are you doing, woman?” Gregory hissed through his teeth. He was also deathly pale and drenched in sweat. He’s afraid, Jack realized.

  “It wasn’t assault, and it wasn’t Jack who did it,” Mrs. Murray explained quickly.

  “What are you going on about?” Mr. Murray yelled at her.

  “It was Gregory! He is my lover!”

  Gregory stumbled a few steps back until his body met the wall.

  “What are you saying?” Mr. Murray’s asked, his voice quivering.

  Mrs. Murray fell to her knees and pulled at her husband’s coat. “I can’t keep it secret any longer! Little Claire wasn’t yours, Mr. Murray. She was Gregory’s. Oh, Lord. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry!”

  Jack felt somewhat disconnected from the scene, like he watching a performance at the River Theater. The pistol was now pointed at Gregory’s head, and Mr. Murray’s aim was unsteady. Slowly, Gregory lifted his arms up in surrender.

  “Mr. Murray?” The sheriff’s voice suddenly called out from the foyer, which surprised Mr. Murray enough to quickly lower the weapon and slide it into a drawer.

  After all of that I’m still being arrested? Jack thought as neither of the Murrays said a word when Baxter put him in fetters and led him out of the manor. Isla chased after him but was held back by the sheriff’s runners.

  “Jack!” she said urgently as he was shoved into the awaiting carriage.

  “Don’t go back in the house, Isla.”

  Of course, she did not heed his words but turned around and sprinted back into the building.

  “Isla!” he called out. The sheriff pushed him roughly. As he was loaded onto the carriage he heard the crackling sound of the pistol going off.

  The sheriff and his runners shared uneasily glances but said nothing as the carriage began moving.

  “Aren’t you going to stop?” Jack shouted. What if Isla had been shot? What if she lay on the ground right now, bleeding to death because they did not turn around?

  He heard another sickening shot of the pistol as the carriage continued on towards the jailhouse. For the first time since his mother died, Jack started to pray.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Milton had told to him how difficult it was to spend countless weeks in the dark, dank basement of Philadelphia’s jailhouse, but Jack didn’t believe him until now. He hadn’t seen the sun in over a week, and Sheriff Baxter seemed to either be forgetting to feed him, or doing it on purpose.

  As he lay on his cot with only his thoughts to keep him company, Jack began to consider doing what Milton had done and bribe Baxter some of his assets just so he could have some fresh air again. But then what? Where would he go? What would he do? He didn’t belong anywhere. He never did.

  There was a leak somewhere on the roof. Jack drew his jacket closer around his body as the water splashed on him. Drip drip. Liar Liar. The words reverberated through his skull with each drop.

  When he did get food, it was always moldy. He ate it anyway, although his stomach always revolted, and more often than he lost the contents of his meal in the corner of his cell.

  When he wasn’t sleeping, he spent a lot of his time thinking about the revelations made at the Murray’s estate. He was relieved that he hadn’t killed Mr. Lockheart, but that relief was buried by the amount of anguish and guilt he felt for Isla.

  Jack may not have killed Mr. Lockheart, but he would feel every bit of a murderer if Isla was dead. After all, he was the one who brought her to America…

  “Jack. Jack wake up.”

  He heard Isla’s voice, and for a moment he thought he was back on the ship, feeling Isla’s body pressed against his as he kissed her lips and caressed her soft skin. In the back of his mind, he knew that his hunger was causing him to hallucinate, and decided to hold on to that hallucination so that he could dream about the woman a little while longer…

  “Jack.”

  He slowly opened his eyes, and realized with disappointment that he was still alone in his jail cell. Jack closed his eyes and waited for sleep to claim him again.

  “Wake up!”

  He felt a sharp kick to his leg and groaned, opening his eyes again.

  “The hell?”

  “It’s Isla.”

  “Isla?” he asked the darkness. “I-is that really you? You’re alive?”

  “Aye, it’s me. And I’m going to get ye outt
a here.”

  “How?”

  Isla grabbed the oil lantern hanging from the wall. Her familiar freckled face now illuminated by the soft glow, Jack let out a sigh. She was real, all right.

  “I knocked the sheriff out cold. Wasn’t difficult to do. He’ll be fine, but I dinna ken how long he’ll be out.”

  “What?”

  Isla grinned. “I’m joking! You’re free to go!”

  Jack pressed himself up to his feet, shaking his head. “What? How?”

  “I talked to Mrs. Murray. She told me the truth about what really happened, that you’re no murderer. She also went to Baxter and confessed. She told me that she never kent the extent of her husband and Gregory’s criminal activities and she felt angry and ashamed. But she is far from innocent. She willingly extorted money left and right.” Isla paused and then took a deep breath. “Her husband and Gregory still want to come after you, but they’re now in hiding from the authorities.”

  “You mean they’re not dead? I thought one of them would have killed the other by now.”

  “They’re both a poor shot,” Isla explained, shrugging. “And they both ran off to God kens where.”

  Sheriff Baxter came in just then and unlocked the door, doing his best to ignore Jack’s gaze. “Contact me immediately if you find them,” he told Isla.

  “Of course,” Isla said. “Are ye gonna arrest Mrs. Murray, then?”

  Baxter nodded silently. With the truth now public, it would be suspicious for the sheriff to turn a blind eye to the Murrays’ crimes, even if he had been bribed. Isla lowered her head, bit her lip, and nodded.

  “Good.”

  Once Baxter left, Isla threw herself into Jack’s arms. Jack wrapped his arms around her back and buried his head into her hair, inhaling deeply.

  “God, I thought I lost you,” he murmured.

  “Ye should ken by now that I’m stronger than that,” Isla said, although he could hear the tears in her words. She kissed solidly on the mouth.