by Pamela Labud
He took comfort in the fact that if the court turned against him, at least Beatrice was safe and with those who loved her. With his title and Ash’s protection, she needn’t marry again if she didn’t want to. During the war, he’d regretted the battles he’d fought, the men he’d killed. But not so with Bainbridge. He was finally put down, once and for all. The blackguard would never hurt another woman.
It was in the midst of his ruminations that he heard the key turning in the lock.
“Ah, Michael, you’re awake.”
Ash entered the cell and another younger man followed him. Tall, thin, stoop-shouldered, he looked as though he’d spent his entire life bent over a desk. He wore wide, thick spectacles and, like his body, his face was long and narrow, and his cheeks and chin were as sharp as cut glass.
The stranger nodded to Michael as he lifted his hat and gave him a tenuous smile. He appeared to be a nervous sort, clutching his impossibly large case with a white-knuckled grip.
“This is Mr. Jonathon Fisk, your defense council,” Ash told him. “If we’re to get you out of this tangle, then this is the only way to do it.”
Michael nodded to the other man. “With the charges they have against me, I doubt there will be any chance of a good defense.”
“I won’t lie to you, Lord Bladen. It is a complicated case. First, your colluding with His Grace to keep Mr. Bainbridge from Lady Bladen is quite debatable. His Grace has already given a deposition in regards to the man’s reputation.”
“Which is to say, his was deplorable,” Ash added.
“The fact that you and Lady Bladen were married in haste might count against you. I believe if the two of you testify to the seriousness of your love for each other, the court will be sympathetic. Especially so, considering her ladyship’s refusal of Bainbridge’s offer of marriage. That His Grace procured a special license as well as that you were joined in a proper ceremony should help your marriage to be recognized as valid. There’s very little to contest there, especially since the previous suitor is now deceased.”
Michael let out a breath. “At least there’s that.”
“And the other charge?” Ash asked.
“It’s a bit more complicated.” Opening his satchel, he removed a leather-bound book and placed it on the table in front of him.
“As to the charge of unlawful dueling, which resulted in the death of Mr. Bainbridge, I plan to call several witnesses to testify that Lady Bladen’s life and freedom were threatened. I must ask you, however, who proposed the duel?”
Michael sat back in his chair. “I did. He’d already taken my wife from me, held her at gunpoint, and threatened her life. I felt it was the only way to get her away from him.”
“Of course,” Fisk said, scribbling in his book. “You will need to testify to that.”
“I will.”
“I think, given your reasoning, it should go well.” He shrugged. “Now, you understand the prosecution will also provide witnesses to support their case?”
Michael nodded. “I do. And to the charge of murder?”
Fisk closed the book in front of him. “That, sir, will be difficult to disprove. You are a top marksman, are you not?”
“I am,” Michael said.
“And yet you chose to deliver a fatal shot?”
“I did. As long as Bainbridge was alive, my wife’s life would have been in danger.”
Fisk tilted his head sideways. “Was there a romantic attachment between them?”
Michael knew it had been a tough question to ask. “Not in the least. Prior to his abduction of her, they had never met.”
“Indeed,” Fisk said, dipping his quill into the ink pot and writing in his book.
“Why is it, do you think, that Bainbridge was so determined to marry your wife?”
“We’re not so clear on his motives. We think that he meant to use her to manipulate His Grace.”
“An interesting theory,” he said.
“I’m sure when her use was done, he would have killed her.”
“But you have no proof of that?”
Michael shook his head. “I do not.”
Ash leaned forward. “This is beyond acceptable. Lord Bladen is a decorated soldier. He has an exemplary record of service in His Majesty’s Army.”
“Of course, Your Grace, and I will be calling you to testify to that.”
After the councilor left them, Ash turned to Michael. “Do you think that will be enough?” Ash asked.
“I think we’re wasting our time and your money on this scheme.”
“It’s not a scheme. You’re innocent of the charges and I mean to prove it.”
Michael walked to the small, barred window, crossing his arms. “But I’m not innocent. I initiated the duel, knowing full well that my skill bested his. I shot him. What’s more, I wanted to kill him. I was happy to do it and I feel absolutely no remorse.”
“I know you better than that.”
Michael turned back to him. “The truth is, Ash, I’m tired of fighting. I’ve been doing it all my life. My father, the gossips, Connie, and now the courts. Perhaps this is as it should be. I’ve a little money left in my accounts. It should be enough to cover a grand tour for Bea. She’s always wanted to travel.”
“What she wants is for her husband to stay alive. She loves you.”
“And I love her. But love isn’t always enough.”
Ash shook his head. “Well, for the sake of both of you, I hope you’re wrong. I know that, in the end, love was what saved me. If you’ll let it, you may find it will save you as well.”
Michael watched his friend leave. He knew that no truer words were ever spoken. The question was, was he worthy of being saved?
—
It had been an extremely long morning, which had now dragged into a seemingly endless afternoon, and there was no end in sight. The small gallery was crowded with onlookers, people Bea had known and many who she hadn’t. Lady Farabee and Lord Cowlington, two of the biggest gossipmongers in London, were in the row of seats right behind them.
There was an atmosphere of excitement in the room. All around her, the crush of people sat shoulder to shoulder, buzzing like an angry beehive. The temperature in the room was practically sweltering and the entire place reeked of unwashed bodies and a nauseating mixture of colognes.
They brought her husband into the chamber and Bea gasped at the sight of him.
“Michael.” She covered her mouth, her eyes filling with tears.
During his time at the Tower, he and Ash had decided that the women should not visit him. They’d insisted that a prison cell was nowhere a gentle lady should ever be. Though she and Caro had argued vehemently, Ash remained unwavering. Even Amelia had agreed. They would be together soon enough, she promised.
Her heart nearly broke at the sight of him.
A guard at each side, he was escorted into the room. He was thin and pale but stood as tall as ever. Though he wore his usual sharp wardrobe, this time it was only a plain brown coat, a starched white shirt, and newly pressed pants. One was forced to dress simply when one was in the Tower.
He looked in her direction and sent her a mischievous grin and a wink.
She started to stand but felt Ash’s hand on her arm. Aching to go to him, to touch and feel the solidity of him, it took all of her strength to relax back into her seat. It was excruciating to see him like that, but at least being this close was a balm in itself. He was alive and well, or relatively so.
It tore her heart to think of him locked away in a prison cell. He’d enjoyed the outdoors more than anyone she’d ever met.
Others filed into the courtroom as well. Twenty-four white-wigged gentlemen dressed in black robes filed in. Members of the House of Lords, they were the peers who would act as judges and decide her husband’s fate. Bea had heard that the duke of Curryington would sit as judge over the proceedings. He was a tall, behemoth of a man, middle aged and generally said to possess an ill temper.
After t
he peers, her husband’s barrister, Mr. Fisk, took his place across from where Bea and Ash were seated. Finally, the High Lord Steward, Lord Kendall, a short, rotund man entered to take his place in front of the Lords.
Through the course of the afternoon, there were all sorts of testimonies given. Some spoke of Michael as a good friend, if a bit impetuous. Others spoke of him with fist-shaking anger, referring to him as an arrogant, black-hearted rogue.
Just then a cacophony of frantic whispers traveled around the room. A woman entered the chamber. Dressed in a royal blue gown, black lace overwrap, her hair swept up under a tall hat decorated with peonies and delicate vines, she curtsied and bowed her head.
“Lady Merriweather,” Lord Kendall said, “thank you for coming.”
“You’re quite welcome, Lord Kendall, Your Honors.” Turning to face the crowd, she smiled demurely, but not before sending Michael a pointed expression.
Bea glanced at her husband and saw him send a barely perceptible nod in Lady Merriweather’s direction.
A challenge had been issued and answered between them.
“What is your relationship to the defendant?” Kendall asked.
“He and I were”—she paused, sending a glance toward Bea—“close friends. Very close friends.”
Again she smiled.
“Go on,” the barrister said.
“He’d once professed his undying love to me, promising me that if my poor, poor George ever were to pass on, he would stand by me.”
“Really? He offered to marry you?”
“That was how I took his meaning, yes. Knowing that Michael was there for me helped me grieve for my dear husband.”
“I see. And when your time of grieving ended?”
She sighed. “I met with him when I attended the Summerton ball a few months ago. I’d heard that he’d come on hard times. I meant to help him if he’d let me.”
“What happened?”
She dabbed her eyes. “He told me he no longer wished to continue our friendship. That he’d already had one unsuccessful marriage and didn’t want another.”
“I see. And what happened after that?”
“I learned that very night that Michael and Miss Hawkins, uh, excuse me, Lady Bladen, had left for Hampshire. Not long after they left, my own travels took me south as well. While I was down there, I visited with him again.”
“And what did you discuss on that occasion?”
“I told him of the rumors I’d heard about Lady Bladen. But later I found that they’d married. Imagine my surprise when I’d heard that they’d married.”
“Indeed. And why have you come to testify here today?”
“It’s my belief that the marriage between Lord Bladen and his wife is a fraud. That they plotted against poor Mr Bainbridge. When he confronted them, Lord Bladen challenged him to a duel. Of course, being an expert duelist, his lordship killed him outright.”
Pandemonium broke out and the room filled with gasps, angry shouts, and accusations that were bandied about. It took several minutes for the judge to return the room to order. When a semblance of calm settled over them, the barrister faced his witness once again.
“What reason could they possibly have for committing such a heinous crime?”
Lady Merriweather pulled her fan from her sleeve and began to wave it furiously. “It’s my understanding that Lady Bladen’s guardian had arranged a marriage between her and Bainbridge that she’d declined.”
“And Mr Bainbridge disputed their claim?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“How did you come to know this?”
“He told me, sir. He’d been an acquaintance of my late husband. The two had had business dealings for years. Anyway, I was traveling south with Lord Carrick and we spent a night at Dorrowby’s Inn. Mr. Bainbridge was staying there as well. He told me all about his troubles with Lady Bladen.”
“Thank you, my lady.” The barrister turned to Fisk.
“Any questions, Mr. Fisk?”
Michael’s attorney stood. “I do have questions, yes.” He strode around the table and moved to stand in front of the witness box.
“Lady Merriweather, have you any proof to corroborate your claims?”
She gave him a sharp expression. “Proof? I would hope my word would be enough.”
Fisk shook his head. “For some things, it is. But in a court of law, where a man’s life is at stake, a mere verbal testimony is sadly inadequate. Tell me, were there any witnesses present when you had your discussion with Lord Bladen?”
“No,” she said.
“What about your discussion with the deceased, Mr. Bainbridge?”
She sat straighter, her shoulders back and her chin up. “It was a private conversation.”
“I see,” he said and then turned to the bench. “I’ve no more questions for this witness, my lords.”
Clearly abashed, Lady Merriweather left the witness box.
Bea watched her leave the room, and swore she hissed at Michael as she passed him.
Fisk turned to his opponent. “Next witness, Lord Kendall?”
“I call Lady Bladen, sir.”
The next thing she knew, Bea was escorted to the witness box and sworn in. Her stomach in knots, it was all she could do to keep herself calm.
“Lady Bladen, is it true that you had been compelled to marry Mr. Bainbridge by your legal guardian?”
“My mother’s cousin had arranged for me to marry him, yes.”
“And you disobeyed him and refused to do so?”
“I didn’t love him. And, His Grace, the Duke of Summerton, had been appointed my guardian for two years. He felt that Mr. Bainbridge was unsuitable for marriage and asked Lord Bladen to take me to a safer place until he could challenge Mr. Bainbridge’s claim on me.”
“So you ran away.”
“I did.”
“And then you married Lord Bladen?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love Lord Bladen?”
“I’ve been fond of him since we first met, but now that I know him better, I have fallen deeply in love with him.”
“That wasn’t the question. Did you agree to marry Lord Bladen in order to avoid marriage to the deceased?”
“I told you. I loved him.”
“Lady Bladen, beg pardon, but I don’t think you’re telling the truth. Had you refused Lord Bladen’s proposal of marriage at any time since you’ve known him?”
“Yes. I’ve refused many others as well.”
“But it seems that you only married him to avoid the lawful marriage to Mr. Bainbridge.”
“That’s not true…”
“No more questions, Your Honor.”
Curryington turned to Mr. Fisk. “Have you any questions for this witness?”
“Only one, Your Honor.”
“Then proceed.”
“Very good, sir.” Fisk sat back in his seat, crossed his arms, and smiled at her. “Lady Bladen, I ask, do you love your husband?”
“With all my heart.”
“And, to the best of your knowledge, does he love you?”
“Yes. I believe he does.”
Fisk’s smile widened. “No more questions, Your Honor.”
Chapter 21
Worn to the very last of his patience, it was all Michael could do to remain calm. After seeing first Constance and then Beatrice testify, he wanted nothing more than to rage at everyone in the room.
The rear door opened and three men entered. His stomach sank like a stone when he realized who they were.
They were the blackguards who’d stood with Bainbridge during the duel.
“Gentlemen.” Kendall motioned the first one forward.
“State your name and occupation.”
A tall, thin man, who looked to have had more than his share of rough drink, sat hunched over in the tiny chair. “Name’s Bradly Togger, sir. I was in Mr. Bainbridge’s employ until the night that bugger took his life.”
The room exploded around
them and Michael sat stunned, for the first time realizing what sort of trouble he was really in.
The judge quieted the room once again and then motioned for the man to continue.
“He ambushed Mr. Bainbridge, right enough. And then, when it was clear he was trapped, that blighter challenged him to a duel. But it was murder, I tell you, murder. His nibs is a better shot than Mr. Bainbridge.”
He went on to detail the duel and Michael’s threat to all others who might cross him. And how Bea, who had willingly come with Sir Richard, laughed at the man’s death and left with the earl.
The next two men’s testimony was no different.
—
When Ash was called to testify, Kendall stated he had no questions.
Michael applauded him for that. To cross a duke could be a dangerous thing. It could be his downright ruination to question one who was as highly decorated a war hero as Ash was.
Mr. Fisk rose to speak.
“Your Grace, how long have you known Lord Bladen?”
“Since we were children.”
“And you served with him in the army, didn’t you? During the Spanish campaign?”
“I did.”
“How would you describe Lord Bladen?”
Ash took a deep breath and looked across the courtroom before speaking. “He’s a true and loyal friend. He risked his life for king and country in Spain. Then, when he came home, he’s led a straight, upstanding life. He’s had a few dalliances, but none more than many of the young bucks about town. A most sensitive man, he can’t tolerate dishonor, whether involving a fellow soldier or a helpless young woman. It matters little to him. He will defend those in need to his last breath.”
“And, in this altercation, he was risking his life once again?”
“He was indeed. On their trip south, their carriage was set upon and Lord Bladen and his wife barely escaped with their lives.”
“Your Grace, what is your relationship to Lady Bladen?”
“She’s my sister-in-law. After my marriage, her mother’s cousin, Lord Alfred Danbury, and I had an arrangement. Because of his own limited financial stability, I convinced him to sign over her guardianship to me. It had remained so for two years.”
“What happened then?”
“Mr. Bainbridge arrived at Summerton wielding documents stating that Danbury had reclaimed his niece’s guardianship and had subsequently arranged a marriage between Lady Bladen, then Miss Hawkins, and Mr. Bainbridge.”