Unveiling Love: A Regency Romance (A London Regency Romantic Suspense Tale Book 4)

by Vanessa Riley

  Barrington sat back at the barrister's bench. At least the woman's duplicity wasn't exposed.

  Hessing trudged to the witness box. Even his face seemed light. Was he also smitten by the woman? "Miss Miller, you seem so sweet. Indeed, the love of a brother is so touching. Is that why you hid the deserter?

  "I'm sorry." Cynthia's mouth dropped open. "I don't understand."

  "Did Gerald Miller not leave his service early?"

  She pulled out her fan and waved it. "Yes, but he was wounded and confused."

  Hessing tugged his hands behind his back and faced the crowd. "So this paragon deserted? He let down Mother England in her time of need. Why wouldn't he have at her daughters, too?"

  "That's a lie." Cynthia shifted and gazed at the jurymen. "Gerald came home to protect us, to aid us in our time of woe." She started crying. "Would you let your family fall to ruin? No, sir. No good man would."

  The males in the gallery nodded their heads. Cynthia was good for something.

  His mentor spun with a lightness of foot and approached the weeping singer. "I suppose that is why you hid him when he was found with the dead woman?"

  Stopping in the middle of her jig, Cynthia beat upon the rail. "Gerald didn't kill Miss Druby!"

  Barrington dropped his head into his hand. The woman just left an opening for his nearly defeated opponent.

  "You admit that Gerald was found with the dead woman, Miss Druby?" Hessing moved closer to the stand. He drew himself up as if to use his girth to separate Cynthia from the audience.

  "He didn't kill her. The Abductor did."

  "You say that with such assurance. I submit you know who the Abductor is."

  Cynthia reached into her reticule and gripped something. "I know Gerald is not guilty." As she craned her neck toward the gallery, her face became blank. She put her hand down at her side.

  The button. At the first opportunity, Barrington would snatch it from her palm.

  Hessing turned to Justice Burns. "Since this case now hinges upon proving that Gerald Miller is Hampshire's murderer, I will now call witnesses to prove it."

  His mentor's smirk said everything, chilling the marrow in Barrington's limbs. Amora would soon be called to testify. The Old Bailey, the law he loved would destroy everything he held dear.

  Chapter Eight: The Truth Shall Reign

  Barrington shook his head. There was no way to lessen the damage of Mr. Johansson's testimony of finding Gerald with Nan Druby.

  Gerald looked to the floor. The pain on his face, the pinch of his lips was intense. Hearing Mr. Johansson announce to the world how he discovered Miss Druby's lifeless body, strangled at Gerald's feet had to be devastating.

  From the near silence in the courtroom, it had surely sucked away all the ground Barrington had made with the earlier testimony. "Did Mrs. Druby seem beaten?"

  Johansson rocked back and forth, his low heels clicked with each sway. "No, she didn't have a speck on her. She might not have fought with Miller. It's hard to say."

  "Gerald Miller is the type of man who would step forward and take a bullet meant to kill you." Barrington slowed his pitch, lowered his shaking fists. "Based on your description of the wound gushing from Miller's head and not a spot of blood on Miss Druby, isn't it more likely Miller was hit and incapacitated by the Abductor? With Miller unable to help, the brute strangled Miss Druby."

  Johansson nodded over his jiggling belly. "Could be. Hard to say."

  This man was no help. Barrington went back to his chair. He glimpsed at Miller. Please say something to show your innocence.

  His friend looked hopeless. All the air in his chest must have leaked out, leaving him flat and lifeless. Would the jurymen see it as reverie or guilt?

  Defeated, Barrington took his seat.

  Hessing smiled big as if he'd eaten every teacake in a sweet shop. "I've a final witness. I call Mrs. Amora Norton, formerly Miss Amora Tomàs. Her testimony will be conclusive."

  Barrington's heart sunk as he focused on his wife coming down from the gallery.

  Mrs. Tomàs and the vicar steadied her until she reached the bottom of the steps. Wilson patted her arm and looked down upon her as if to bolster her.

  Part grateful, part jealous, Barrington wiped his brow and watched Amora float across the floor and climb into the witness box. Like a butter colored flower, her cheeks matched the color of her sunny gold dress. She looked good, seemed well, but could she endure the forthcoming storm?

  His heart lurched. She seemed so tiny, so vulnerable within the frame of the stand. Why couldn't he protect her from this?

  The judge shifted in his chair. "Mr. Norton, were you aware--"

  Barrington straightened within his chair. "Yes, my lord."

  Hessing kissed Amora's hand. "I discovered, from the administer of Bedlam, her connections to Sarah Calloway. They both were taken and held together by Miller."

  The crowd roared. "Hang 'em! Hang 'em!"

  His mentor smiled even wider, savoring this opportunity to serve Barrington comeuppance on a platter. "Mrs. Norton, you've come to this court today to shed light on this miserable business. I know it is difficult, but can you tell the court about the evening when Miss Druby died?"

  She clutched the railing, fingers shaking. "I was trapped in the Priory as was Miss Druby. Sarah had already been released. The monster got rid of the women he abused."

  The crowd silenced. Amora's small tone seemed to have squeezed the air out of everyone in the court.

  Hessing started pacing in front of the witness box. "So you are a victim of the Abductor?"

  With a raise of her countenance, she released a slow breath. "Yes."

  Again, the absence of noise in the Old Bailey made Barrington's pulse rise.

  "I was abducted by the villain on 13 April, 1814 whilst I painted in my father's orchards very close to the Norman relic in Clanville, the Priory. Yes, April 13."

  Hessing guffawed and stopped in his tracks. "How can you be so certain?"

  Her gaze seemed to focus on Barrington for a moment. He hoped he didn't look like an ogre sitting on his hands.

  "It was exactly a fortnight since my father's passing." She smoothed her fingers along the rail. "I count things. It helps me focus." She folded her arms. "As I painted a watercolor of the Priory outside of the village of Clanville in Hampshire, someone grabbed me from behind. He struck me as I fought. I awakened in the dark root cellar of the Priory."

  "You fought? You were taken without consent?"

  "Yes." Her gaze lowered. "I never consented, ever."

  Posting between Barrington and the witness box, Hessing lowered his voice. "There's no easy way to say this. Were you tampered with?"

  "He punched me." Her tone decelerated. "He kept me against my will." Her hands shook. "Almost two months."

  The lack of surety in her tone was palatable. It didn't matter. Barrington would love her no matter what. Did she know that?

  Turning, Hessing's face wore a frown. He wasn't unfeeling, just a man set on winning. He tugged at his wig. "Could you recognize him, the Abductor?"

  "No."

  Hessing looked disturbed, furrowing his brow. "But in your sworn testimony..."

  Amora nodded. In clear loud tones, she stated, "I said that I could identify that Mr. Miller was in the Priory, and he was. He was rescuing Mrs. Druby."

  The crowds squealed.

  Hessing marched to the barrister's table, planting himself right in front of Barrington. "This is some joke, set up by your husband."

  "No." She pulled from her reticule several pieces of papers. "Here are the accounts of four doctors and Mrs. Henutsen Tomàs's statement attesting to my abduction and condition upon escaping. I was there, Mr. Hessing. And I know that Mr. Miller is innocent."

  Hessing stumbled back to his seat.

  Barrington stood and took the documents from her shaking fingers, giving them to Judge Burns. "Amora...Mrs. Norton, please state exactly what happened." He swallowed hard. "Spare no detail
for the court."

  Her husband looked at Amora with such tenderness, yet a lump still formed in her throat. It was time to say the truth to the world.

  A smile formed on his lips, then thinned. "Please tell me, the court what happened."

  She swallowed and scanned the packed courtroom. Everyone must be here. So many faces. Cynthia sat in the front row sobbing into a handkerchief. Samuel's dark mop of hair bowed in prayer. Mama held his hand and nodded as if giving her permission.

  Lord Charleton, along with his brother, the reclusive Lord Hampshire stood at opposite ends of the high gallery. Even the Duchess of Hampshire attended.

  The babe quickened in her stomach. She patted him. God, don't let my courage diminish.

  Barrington's jaw trembled. He craned his neck toward the ceiling beams. "Mrs. Norton, I know this is difficult, but tell the court what you remember. You haven't come this far on your journey to stop now. I trust...I trust that everyone wants to hear your story."

  Her husband trusted her and encouraged her. She almost raised a hand to his dear face. Instead, she clasped the wooden railing. "A shout bellowed through the Priory. I knew it wasn't the Abductor. The evil man never spoke above a whisper. The footsteps moved closer to my chained cell, and I heard clearly Gerald Miller's voice."

  "Ma'am, what did he say?"

  She licked her dry lips. "He asked, 'Is anyone in here?'"

  Pacing to stand closer to the prisoner's stand, Barrington's tall form seemed very stiff in his movement. With a blank face, he locked his gaze with hers. "Did you answer?"

  "I was afraid at first. My mouth felt parched, as if it were packed with cotton. I hadn't had anything to drink that day, but I did answer."

  A growl uttered from Barrington's mouth. He rubbed his jaw until it held no expression again. "What did Miller do?"

  "He recognized my voice and told me not to worry. He tried to open the door but couldn't get the chain off. I still hear the heavy clanging of the chains. He tried several times but he couldn't get them removed. I still hear the clang, clang of the chains. They were so heavy, unbreakable..."

  Of its own volition, her voice trailed off. A tremor set in her fingers, and she started counting planks on the floor.

  "Continue, Mrs. Norton, with your testimony." Barrington shuttled closer. "Please."

  "I told him the Abductor would return soon and to go save Miss Druby. I heard horses' hooves as the light began to disappear."

  "Mrs. Norton. You've said enough. We can infer--"

  Hessing stood up. "No. She must state her testimony." He wrenched the back of his neck. "No matter how horrible."

  Justice Burns grimaced, but nodded. "Please continue, Mrs. Norton."

  She dug into reticule for one of her notes of encouragement, but couldn't finger any, just Barrington's button. It didn't jingle like the buttons of what freed her. She raised her head as more memories returned. "I shouted to Mr. Miller to hurry. The Abductor had arrived. He always arrived when it grew dark." Tears leaked, but she didn't swipe at them. She would let the world see the stains. No more hiding.

  Tugging off his wig, Barrington came near, put a finger to her cheek and caught a few of the drops. "Did Miller leave you as you advised?"

  "Yes, he promised to tell you…where I was held. Mr. Miller went to save Miss Druby. Then I heard drumming boot heels, the heavy footfalls of the monster."

  He stepped back and moved closer to the jury stand. "What occurred next?"

  Sounds of captivity returned, echoing within her skull. Her breath came in gasps. "I heard yelling! Lots of yelling."

  "How many voices?"

  Forcing air into her lungs, Amora looked up to the gallery and then to the roof of the Old Bailey. "Three. I heard Gerald Miller's, Miss Druby's, and the Abductor's. Then screaming." An ache ripped through her temples. The memories chiseled away at her composure. She panted and clutched the rail to stay upright. "Endless screaming, worse than ever."

  Barrington's mouth moved, but she heard nothing. She pulled her hands to her ears.

  His lips formed the words, "God give her strength."

  She had to finish this, intact, with her wits. It was the only way to save Gerald and reclaim the bits of her soul the true abductor took. She blinked until the pain in her temples subsided.

  Barrington's voice became clear. "Can you continue?"

  She nodded. "I heard the chains fall to the floor. The torturer came. He...he shouted at me, said I caused him to do this. Then he struck me with his heavy hand. I don't remember any more."

  Barrington folded his arms. With his eyes closed, he looked as if he'd rip the walls down. "Mrs. Norton, you've remembered enough." With a lift of his lids, he unveiled raw anger stricken pupils. "You are so brave."

  He sucked in a breath, before reaching back and tugging his wig on lopsided. "Tell the good jurymen if Mr. Miller is the Abductor."

  Each of the fellows seemed frozen as if posed for a portrait for her to paint. Tall, short, fat and skinny, all sat quietly on the edge of their seats, waiting. She leaned in their direction. "No, Mr. Miller is not him!"

  Murmurs swept the length of the courtroom. Not a one yelled, Hang 'em.

  Barrington turned to Justice Burns. "By the logic brought by the prosecution if Gerald Miller is not the Abductor then he did not abduct Miss Calloway and Mrs. Tantlin. My client is not the guilty party."

  His head dipped toward Miller, as if to send a signal.

  Mr. Miller banged the frame of his stand. "Judge, I'm…innocent. Please re…lease me." He waved at her. "Thank you, ma'am."

  Justice Burns rotated to Mr. Hessing. "Do you have anything more to ask of this brave witness?"

  Mr. Hessing shook his head. "I'm finished."

  The judge pivoted to the jury. "You must now decide based on the evidence you've heard if you believe Mr. Gerald Miller is guilty of abducting Miss Sarah Calloway and Mrs. Anna Tantlin. Norton, take a moment and escort your wife from the witness box."

  "My lord, I'll do just that." Barrington held an arm up to Amora.

  She clasped it. The joining of their palms, the strength of his fingers entwining with his. If only the jurymen would pronounce Gerald innocent.

  Seeing Cynthia's reticule tottering on the rail, Barrington remembered the hidden clue. He steered his beautiful wife to a seat near the viper.

  Cynthia's brow rose as she sat on her palms, her pouty lips poked out. The noise of the crowd fell upon his shoulders, but he kept his gaze on her satin reticule. With a slight of hand, he knocked it off the rail, dumping its contents to the floor.

  The button she'd kept all these years rolled to his foot. He picked up the silver thing. Eyes growing larger than silver dollars, he identified the crest.

  Cynthia frowned so deeply her chin disappeared.

  Barrington didn't care. He pushed his thumb over the crest as he put the button in his pocket. His fingers throbbed, aching to kill. He knew the identity of the blackguard. Leaning close to Amora's ear, he whispered, "This will be over soon. Love you."

  Turning, he allowed the smile he donned for his wife to disappear. As soon as Miller was proclaimed innocent, Barrington would send runners to arrest the true Dark Walk Abductor.

  Justice Burns pounded his fist. All conversation stopped. Every head in the crowd pointed toward his desk. "Jurymen, what say ye?"

  Every mouth quieted. All ears were craned toward the men sitting in judgment, the deciders of Miller's fate.

  The lead man jumped from his chair. "We find the defendant not guilty."

  The gallery roared with chants. "Not guilty! Not guilty!"

  Barrington's heart started to thump. Some overly exuberant person might bump into his petite wife. Where was she? He squinted but excited spectators bounced up and down, obscuring his view.

  Justice Burns knocked along his table. His palm looked blackened from the effort. His bailiff offered him a deep-brown gavel, which Burns seized. He pounded the surface again. "Mr. Miller, you have been found innocent
of the two charges of abduction and assault, but you will be held in Newgate and then transported from there to stand trial in the assize in Winchester for the Hampshire charges. The case will be taken with the September circuit. Bailiff."

  The crowd went wild, shrieking. Joyful and loud, so different from the hanging mob of before. They surrounded the prisoner dock and the bar.

  Barrington pushed his way through and stalked over to Miller. "The assize meets in September. One hundred and twenty days and you'll be free. You've slept longer."

  "Thank you." With a tight, bony grip, Miller seized Barrington's hand. "Tell the Mrs., grateful." Chin high, his friend stepped down, plodding between the gaoler and the bailiff.

  Barrington pivoted and fought his way through the well-wishers and the pats on the back, heading toward Amora's seat.

  Beakes planted in front of him. "Congratulations. I did as I said. My men are at every door looking to stop trouble. I hope we have no hard feelings." He stuck out a hand.

  Barrington clasped it. No one could procure runners faster than this solicitor. "Get your men ready." As soon as I attend to my wife, we will go get the true Abductor. You'll have your big catch."

  The man nodded then disappeared into the milling crowd.

  A few more steps and Barrington was stopped again as Hessing laid a palm on his shoulder. "You beat me, Norton. I suppose you are better at the law."

  Barrington hesitated then pivoted, standing toe-to-toe with his mentor in front of the barristers' bar. "On the contrary, if you hadn't brought my wife into this, I would've lost."

  "A wins a win." Hessing took off his wig, left it on the table, and plodded out of the courtroom.

  Barrington touched the cast-off. He'd defeated his mentor, the person who engendered the power of the court. A sigh filled his lungs. This was a great way to end his legal career. This trial would be Barrington's last in the Old Bailey. A quiet home with Amora and their child, that was his heart's desire.

  And the Abductor's head was on a stake. Maybe a bullet between the eyes. Barrington dumped his court wig atop Hessing's, then marched to Amora's seat.