The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 5

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  "Oh Alistair, I’m sorry."

  "This is all-out war now," he said with a sigh, holding her close.

  "I’ll be right there with you."

  "I know you will. I love you."

  "I love you too. No matter what happens. Should we go see Thistlewood now?"

  "They won’t let us. Not yet. Time enough tomorrow."

  Viola nodded, and kissed him, and stroked his handsome face, now a picture of bleak despair.

  She knew how he felt. She looked at the future stretching out before them, and all she could see was a swirl of oppressive black.

  After waiting all day with his ‘clerk,’ Alistair was eventually allowed to see Thistlewood the following evening. It was a cold February night, and he and Viola shivered in their greatcoats and tried to urge some heat from the small brazier that Alistair had requested be brought.

  Philip had begun taking depositions from the other conspirators who had already been arrested, but Alistair knew the government would bring Thistlewood to trial first as the leader of the whole rebellion.

  Thistlewood was surprised to see Alistair. "Thought you were dead, so I did. And even now the sensible thing to do would be to bloody scarper."

  The tall barrister shook his head. "I’m not going to run from a fight. I only wish you had. This young lady here tried to warn you. They nearly killed me and my friend Philip and his innocent family. This was a game with the highest stakes, and you, poor soul, never even saw it coming."

  "Damned if I did. They betrayed us at Spa Fields, that bugger Castle. How was I supposed to know they’d do it again?"

  "Well, you do have a tendency to be, shall we say, rather extreme. Predictable. It gives them the chance to move you right where they want you, and watch the play unfold."

  "Yes, with me in the role of the clown. Or puppet," he said in disgust.

  "Your heart was in the right place, even if your head was addled."

  "It’s going to be more than addled if you don’t help me, Mr. Grant," Thistlewood said with a wry look. "It’ll be removed from my shoulders."

  "So start from the beginning. And keep in mind you need to tell me everything, for Edwards has most assuredly rendered a full account already, and if not, he will in court."

  Viola sat poised to take notes. She gave the thin man with stooped shoulders a reassuring smile. "Go on. How did it come about?"

  He lifted his chin. "High Treason was committed against the people at Manchester. Those poor innocents at the Peterloo Massacre. I resolved that the lives of the instigators of massacre should atone for the souls of murdered innocents," Thistlewood said.

  "It was in late January or early February that George Edwards pointed out to me an item in The New Times which stated that several members of the British government were going to have dinner at Lord Harrowby’s house at 39 Grosvenor Square on the night of the 23rd of February.

  "He told me this was the opportunity we had been waiting for. He said it would be simple. We could force our way into the house to kill all of the Cabinet members attending. No one ever mentioned anything about the Duke of Ellesmere and the Earl of Hazelmere being there. It was supposed to be a Tory government dinner only."

  "And whose idea was it to stick Castlereagh and Sidmouth’s heads on poles?"

  "I believe Ings said it, but it was all just a bit of oratorical bluster to incite people. But I did hope we might be able to form a new government committed to creating a society based on the ideas of Thomas Spence."

  "So you were going to storm your own Bastille, in this case Newgate, eh? And bluster? You had pikes and grenades."

  "Pikes, yes, we did," he sighed. "Edwards got us the grenades, the little bastard. But violence begets violence. We had the chance to rid the world of a vicious pack of murderers, so we took it."

  "Er, quite. I think we can phrase that more judiciously when the time comes," Alistair said with a significant look at Viola.

  She knew better than to write down something so incriminating, and simply waited patiently.

  "But you didn’t get many volunteers for the revolution, now did you?" she asked. "What happened?"

  Thistlewood shrugged. "With hindsight, I can see Edwards tricked me, well and truly. He lied about everything, how many people would join. And now I know that we were betrayed, had been for years. They must have thought we were pretty damned important to have fed so many spies into our midst. In addition to Edwards, John Williamson, John Shegoe, James Hanley, and Thomas Dwyer were also spying. All Bow Street or Home Office men."

  Alistair nodded. "Aye, specially recruited by Stafford to spy on the Spenceans. Possibly with some Foreign Office input to make sure you weren’t getting any backing from the Continental powers who might wish to see England brought to its knees."

  Thistlewood nodded. "Any road, only twenty-seven people agreed to participate. They included William Davidson, James Ings, Richard Tidd, John Brunt, John Harrison, James Wilson, Richard Bradburn, John Strange, Charles Copper, Robert Adams, James Gilbert and John Monument. All the men who have been arrested, in other words, and the five traitors. I won’t tell you the others. They've got away, the lucky chaps."

  "Why these men, do you think?" Viola wondered aloud.

  Thistlewood shrugged. "William Davidson worked for the Earl of Harrowby in the past and knew some of the staff at Grosvenor Square. We stood a good chance of him getting us in. If they had really been there, of course. I should have smelt a rat when I sent him to find out more details about the cabinet meeting. He came back and said that when he spoke to one of the servants he was told that the Earl of Harrowby wasn’t in London. I was a fool. I insisted that the servant was lying, and that the assassinations should proceed as planned."

  "Who came up with the Cato Street location, Edwards?"

  "No, actually. It was John Harrison." He laughed ruefully. "As it turned out, it was perfect for Edward’s purposes. It was small, two-storey, stable below and hayloft above. It was only a short distance from Grosvenor Square, perfect for a base for the operation.

  "But it had only one ladder up or down through the trapdoor into the loft, and only one window. Still, we managed to run like buggery, thanks to the warning you sent. I’m very grateful you tried." He smiled wanly at Viola.

  "Sorry we couldn’t do more."

  "No, the others all got away. The Bow Street Runners bungled that one, thanks to you."

  "Don’t thank me yet. You should have fled to America when you had the chance."

  He shook his head. "Too late now."

  "So what happened next?" Alistair demanded.

  "I don’t know too much apart from what I heard whispered after the fact. Stafford, head of the Home Office spies, put Sir Richard Birnie in charge of the operation. He was actually waiting for the Second Battalion of the Coldstream Guards to join the police officers from Bow Street to arrest us.

  "Birnie decided to send George Ruthven in to capture us. He’d been in the Society for years. I was shocked."

  "I’m sure," Alistair said regretfully. "I saw Ruthven, tried to talk him out of it. Then Edwards shouted, and it was all up with us."

  "Aye, when they charged up into the hayloft, the police found James Ings trying to keep them out. He was quickly overcome and Ruthven led his men up the ladder into the hayloft where we had been having our meeting. As he entered the loft Ruthven shouted, ‘We are peace officers. Lay down your arms.’

  "We were getting everyone down the rope ladder at the back. I won’t tell you how many of us there were in total, but a fair few got away, at least. But leaders don’t run and leave their men to die. Davidson and I raised our swords, while some of the other men attempted to load their pistols.

  "One of the police officers, Richard Smithers, moved forward to make the arrests, but I stabbed him with my sword. Smithers gasped, fainted, and died soon afterwards. Or so I hear. Maybe I shouldn’t have done it, but I was trying to buy time, thought the cowards would see him fall, and turned tail and ran.


  "Some surrendered, but Davidson fought like a savage and bought time for me Brunt, Adams and Harrison to escape out of the back window. But what was the point? Every police officer in London had a description of me thanks to Edwards and Ruthven.

  "So they arrested me and here I am."

  Alistair nodded. "But hopefully not for long. We’ll use the same strategy as at Spa Fields. Your testimony will indicate that Edwards was an agent provocateur. You will also make the most of the fact that the policemen you’ve mention have been coming to the Society of Spenceans’ meetings for years. That all of this was a cunning plan to rid the new government of seditious elements. To curtail our freedoms even further."

  "Sir Robert Gifford isn’t going to—"

  "The Attorney-General will open the case for the crown against the Cato Street Conspirators, as you are being called, but he won’t have everything his own way. He will try to gag us, but if we just stick to the central fact, that Edwards incited you, we should be fine," Alistair promised.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  But Alistair's optimism that he would be able to easily help the Cato Street Conspirators was sorely misplaced.

  Philip came to see them at the end of their long day hunched over the desks at Newgate taking Thistlewood’s deposition and drawing up a list of witnesses he could call.

  He told Alistair with a shake of his head, "We’ve got trouble. My men tell me Edwards has vanished. Worse still, two of the prisoners have been persuaded to turn King’s evidence to save their own skins. We’ll be defending only eleven of them now."

  "Damn. I knew it. Good old Sidmouth. Divide and conquer." He grimaced. "Who turned?"

  "Robert Adams and John Monument."

  Alistair blew out a ragged breath. "At least it wasn’t one of the top ringleaders. We still have a chance."

  Thistlewood's long, dour face lengthened further. "Between them and the evidence from Ruthven on behalf of the police, this is a foregone conclusion."

  "Not if we maintained that they tricked you at every turn. Have been duping you for years. It's better to look like a fool than a traitor," Alistair argued.

  Thistlewood sighed. "I know you’re trying to do your best, but God knows we have little enough time. It’s impossible."

  "Don’t say that. We will try our utmost. We have no choice."

  Viola nodded. "We’ve come too far to just lie down and give up at the first sign of trouble."

  At length Thistlewood nodded. "All right. Let’s go over it once more."

  "Just stay calm. All will be well. It just has to be."

  The date for the trial was set: Alistair would have to begin to defend the eleven remaining men who had not turned traitor to their comrades on the date set, the 18th of April. It didn’t give him much time.

  In some senses he prayed he might not need it. For if he could prove Edwards had been responsible all along, then the charges would be dismissed. Proving it was the hard part, however. He was also not so calm about the fact that so far as he knew, the bounty had not been lifted from his head. Or Viola’s.

  Moreover, there was no sign of Sebastian or George, which had them both worried.

  Philip and Jasmine refused to allow the children to come home from wherever he had hidden them until they were certain that the danger was truly over, so it left everyone on edge in their new home.

  Everyone was on tenterhooks as they gathered all their papers together, and waited. It was during this calm before the storm that Jonathan Deveril presided over the services at Fulham House which united Alistair Grant and Viola Morrison in holy matrimony.

  It was a subdued occasion despite all the Rakehells and The Three Bells residents present. Neither George nor Sebastian were there, and Viola could not help but feel despondent.

  Alistair more than tried to make up for it, however, as he showered her with gowns and jewels, and impressed her no end with a few tricks he had learned from Philip.

  Viola never imagined she could ever be capable of such passion as he filled her to the brim with ecstasy, and truly made them one flesh in a magical meeting of hearts and minds which lasted long into their wedding night.

  They had met under such dire circumstances, and by some miracle they had fallen in love. She prayed now for a miracle for all of them that would keep everyone safe. She had found the love of her life—she certainly didn't want to lose it due to the machinations of a few power-hungry men she had never even met.

  As Alistair held her in his arms and felt complete for the first time in his life, he prayed as he never had before, for his friends, his family in the Rakehells, and the men he was being forced to defend. He had never been much of a religious man, but as he lay with his new wife, touched her, kissed her, was even in the same room with her, it was like touching the divine.

  Whatever miracle had brought them together, had done it for a purpose. He just had to hope that a light would break through the clouds to show him the way through the darkness before it was too late for them all.

  By day she and Alistair spent their time at his chambers, in the prison, or in the courtroom. By nine in the evening, they would withdraw to their sapphire and gold silken bed chamber to explore every aspect of their sensuality and each other’s.

  Alistair marvelled at his ability to give and receive love; never before had any woman become the centre of his universe. He couldn’t even recall what his life had been like before Viola had come into it.

  For Viola, every moment she spent with her new husband was a revelation and reaffirmation of their love. She had never imagined anyone could become her entire universe until she had met him.

  She couldn’t imagine that a child could be more a part of her than he was. Between working together during the day, and the loving they explored at night, she couldn’t stand being parted from him for even a few moments in twenty-four hours.

  He was gentle, playful, tender one minute, boisterously all male the next. He invented love games for her which had her shocked to the depths of her soul, and delighted. He made love to her with his barrister’s robes and wig on, and once even just the horsehair wig, which he had some interesting uses for when he wasn’t wearing it.

  He also had a few interesting uses for a couple of sets of police manacles, though to be fair he also let her have a turn and begged her not to lose the key.

  Still other times they pretended to be street walkers out to seduce the other. Alistair came up with some new ways of ‘questioning’ her about what she wanted in bed which had had her blushing for days afterwards and not able to look at a quill pen in quite the same way again.

  In fact, Viola never could look at her world in the same way again. Their love made them so deliriously happy that it was all too easy to become complacent, forget the dangers which lurked on the fringes of their world.

  The prisoners were finally arraigned formally on the 15th of April, with a view to commencing the trial of Thistlewood on the 18th. Alistair was planning to try to end it as soon as possible through his testimony about Edwards being an agent provocateur.

  On the night of the seventeenth, they had finished up with Thistlewood, and were preparing to leave. Alistair and Philip flanked her either side as they approached the main gate leading out of Newgate.

  Viola stepped out first, as was her wont, only to be seized roughly around the waist. She clung onto the briefcase with their depositions for dear life as she felt herself being dragged down the alley.

  A second man had jerked the door shut and rammed some sort of bar into the outside handle, trapping Alistair and Philip inside when they would have run to her rescue.

  Viola tried everything to get away, bashing him, shouting for help, digging in her heels. Her abductor rammed a pistol to her temple, but it only subdued her for a moment.

  They turned the corner into the next street. Viola was just about to scream rape at the top of her lungs when she heard a familiar voice declare, "Let her go, Castle, or I’ll tear your head off and stick it on a pole."r />
  "Just stay out of this, George. If your runners find out you helped, you’re never going to find what you’re looking for."

  George didn’t bat an eyelid. "Knowing our masters, I never will anyway. Let her go!"

  "We won’t hurt her. We just need to keep her out of the way until the trial is over. She’s looking a bit pale. A couple of weeks in the country—"

  "The lady is coming with me, back to her husband," he said firmly. "You think Grant will be able to conduct a fair trial tearing his hair out worrying about her? Forget it. You Home Office men have gone far enough. Let her go. And don’t even try to get in my way, Oliver," he growled as the second man caught up.