The Gamekeeper's Lady

by Ann Lethbridge

  ‘Bring the rope,’ one of them yelled. The other two grabbed his arms.

  Robert shook off one, kicked another in the groin and struggled to his feet with the third hanging on to his sleeve.

  ‘Hold him,’ someone yelled. Three more men latched on to his arms and dragged him to the floor. His hat went skidding across the tiles. Robert, gasping for breath beneath the pile of men, stared at a gap in the tangle of arms and legs where John’s face appeared. ‘What the deuce is going on, Robin?’ he whispered.

  Robert shook his head. ‘I did not steal that necklace.’

  John winced. ‘Hold still, then, man. Don’t make it worse. I’ll see what I can do.’

  Submit to the final indignity. Rage welled up inside him. Blast it, John was right. The odds were against him. There was no sense in getting beaten as well as arrested. Robert took a deep breath and lay still.

  ‘Stand him up,’ the magistrate said, his flowing wig all askew, the footman at his side, rope in hand. ‘Let me have a look at him.’

  The men hauled Robert to his feet. He came face to face with Frederica. Robert pretended not to see her. He kept his chin low in hopes of hiding his face from those that might know him.

  The footman fastened a rope around his wrists and pulled it tight.

  ‘An emerald necklace isn’t the only thing you are hiding is it, my lord?’ Lullington murmured in Robert’s ear so no one else could hear.

  ‘Shut your damned mouth,’ Robert muttered.

  Lullington smiled. ‘If you don’t want your family name dragged through the mud,’ he whispered, ‘you’ll proclaim your guilt like a man.’

  ‘I’ll see you in hell,’ Robert whispered.

  Lullington held his scented handkerchief beneath his nose, muffling his words. ‘I’m sure you will. But you will arrive first.’

  ‘What is he saying?’ the magistrate said, leaning forwards.

  ‘Think about it, Robert,’ Lullington murmured. ‘I’ll give you ’til morning to admit your guilt. If not, I’ll really unmask you.’ He used his forefinger and thumb to pull Robert’s mask over his head.

  Maggie stared at him. ‘Robert?’ she whispered in disbelief. Her eyes rolled up in her head and she collapsed in a heap beside the magistrate’s high red heels.

  One of the ladies near her, a dark-haired woman in a toga, bent to chafe her hand. Robert saw all of that from the corner of his eye, but it was Frederica’s reaction holding him captive and rigid.

  At the moment Maggie fainted, the pallor of her skin blanched to translucent white, as if every drop of blood in her veins had drained away, but instead of fainting or screaming, she backed away with an expression of terrible hurt.

  Even at this distance he felt her shock and horror. Revulsion oozed from her pores and made his skin feel slimy.

  He wanted to deny the theft, but Lullington’s threat held him silent. It really didn’t matter what she thought. He had far more pressing problems.

  She shook her head, stumbled over the crocodile’s stupid tail, then turned and fled up the stairs.

  He watched her disappear until someone tapped him on the shoulder. John, looking as sick as a horse. ‘I’ll take my grandmother home and come back later.’

  Robert nodded, feeling a little less isolated.

  Everyone else, except the triumphant-looking Lullington and the two footmen clenched on Robert’s arms, huddled over Maggie’s inert body, proffering smelling salts, vinaigrettes and fans. What a bloody farce. If his position weren’t quite so desperate, he might have laughed.

  ‘Take Lady Caldwell into the drawing room,’ Lady Radthorn directed. She raised her head and peered through her lorgnette at Robert. ‘Fine mess you are in, young man.’

  ‘Grandmama, please, let us go home,’ John said.

  ‘Throw that vermin in the cellar,’ the magistrate said. ‘We can’t have a fellow like him ruining our evening.’ He puffed out his chest. ‘I will get to the bottom of the matter in the morning.’

  ‘Ain’t got no cellar,’ Michael the footman said, looking blank.

  ‘The coal cellar,’ Wynchwood said, mopping his brow with a handkerchief. ‘Oh, my lord. I feel faint. My health cannot stand the shock. Where are the smelling salts?’ He staggered after Maggie’s entourage.

  ‘Did you really think by posing as a gamekeeper you could hide from me?’ Lullington murmured into Robert’s ear.

  Robert said nothing.

  ‘Pay your debt or it will either be the gallows,’ Lullington said with an infuriating smile, ‘or transportation.’

  A cold chill settled on Robert’s shoulders. In that case, he’d count himself lucky to be hanged.

  ‘The only question is,’ Lullington continued, ‘under which name do you want to be tried?’

  Lullington knew Robert would do anything to protect his family’s name—he could see it in the other man’s face. He knew Lullington had never liked him, but he’d never thought the man so vindictive as to accuse a man of a crime he didn’t commit and make it impossible for him to deny it.

  ‘You bastard. I’m working to get your money.’

  Lullington’s thin lips curled in a sneer. ‘I think I prefer this method of settling your debts, my friend. I shall enjoy telling my cousin.’

  Michael, the footmen and a man from the village swung Robert around, hustled him down the back stairs and in short order shoved him into the cellar. Lumps of coal rolled beneath his feet. Stumbling forwards, Robert slammed into the wall head first. Stars circled in front of his eyes. Thick dust choked his throat. Coughing, he struggled to remain upright.

  The door banged shut. A bolt slid home. The key turned in the lock.

  Damp chill seeped through his coat and into his skin. He waited for his vision to adjust to the dark. It didn’t. Not one crack of light penetrated his cell.

  The beating of his heart filled his ears, a slow steady thud. His ears rang from the blow to his head.

  What an idiot he was to have given Lullington such an easy opportunity. If he’d been thinking with his brain instead of what was in his trousers, he would never have risked coming here tonight. And for what?

  A woman who was betrothed to another man.

  Why would Robert steal from the guests of his employer? She felt as if the ground beneath her feet rocked and swayed to a rhythm she didn’t know. She’d thought him perfect, a down-to-earth man, honest and straightforward. She’d trusted him.

  It was her fault he’d gained entry to the ball. Her fault he had access to Lady Caldwell’s chamber. He never would have been tempted if she hadn’t allowed him come to her room. Unless he had planned it all along.

  Her heart clenched. She didn’t want to believe it. Men are ruled by their needs, she’d heard.

  Apparently their needs included priceless gems.

  And why had Lady Caldwell said his name and then fainted? Did she know him? She kneaded her temples.

  At first, he’d denied his guilt. He’d stared at her, willing her to believe him. Was it the truth? Or was he hoping the spell he’d spun would keep her entranced?

  If so, sadly he was right. She couldn’t bear the thought of him locked up in the coal cellar. She got up from the bed and paced to the window.

  Lady Caldwell had her jewels back, so no real harm had been done, had it? Perhaps she could convince her to let the matter drop.

  But first, she wanted to hear what Robert had to say. He owed her the truth.

  Chapter Nine

  Robert cursed and gripped the shovel hard between his knees and once more began grinding the ropes against the dull edge of the blade.

  He allowed himself a wry smile. The magistrate had done him a favour, putting him in a place he knew only too well. With a bit of luck, he’d be long gone before they came to fetch him in the morning. He huffed out a breath. His escape wouldn’t help prove his innocence. It would probably make matters worse, but without the evidence, namely Robert’s person, the viscount would be unable to prove the identity of the so
-called thief. And John would deny it, Robert was sure, even if Maggie supported Lullington.

  What would it matter once he was gone? He’d lost any chance of a future here and this way, his family would never know for certain that the man arrested was him. They’d only have Lullington’s word.

  He sawed back and forth. The first strands of the rope gave way. He still half-expected Wynchwood to stomp down here accusing him of debauching his niece. Well, if it got her out of a marriage she didn’t want, good luck to her. Her cousin was an idiot. He wasn’t going to stay around to find out if she succeeded. The last thing he wanted was for his father to hear his son was not only a debaucher of innocents, but a thief to boot.

  He’d thought she was different from all those other women he’d known. That she liked him for himself, not what she could get from him.

  It didn’t matter. He was leaving. He would never see her again. Just as he’d planned.

  One thing was sure, he wasn’t going to let Lullington get away with his ridiculous accusation. Once free, he’d find Maggie and get her to withdraw the charges. He was not going through the rest of his life with this hanging over him.

  He sawed harder and faster. The edge of the shovel scored his wrist.

  Pain tore up his arm. He clenched his jaw, bit back a curse, blinking away the welling moisture in his eyes. He did not want his guard lured down here by a noise.

  Awkwardly, he wiped his face on his upper sleeve. The shovel fell to the flagstones with a clang.

  Hell.

  He listened. A muffled silence greeted his ears. It was like being entombed alive, or how he imagined being entombed alive. Dark, silent, damp and cold, with the only noise his rasping breath and pounding heart.

  Don’t think, you idiot. Just get this bloody rope off. He scrabbled among the lumps of coal for his shovel.

  The back stairs creaked beneath Frederica’s feet as she felt for each step with her foot. Creeping around Wynchwood in the dark was something she had done as a child, looking for food when sent to bed without supper for some transgression or other. Tonight it seemed far scarier, far more risky with so many strangers in the house and something other than food on her mind. Robert.

  A thief. He hadn’t offered one word of explanation after the gems’ discovery, once Lullington muttered something in his ear. He’d stood there, sullen and angry, the very picture of guilt.

  Her stomach heaved again. Was that why he’d befriended her, made love to her? So he could steal from her family?

  Had she been so utterly taken in?

  And here she was planning to set up on her own. If she was so easily duped, here in a house where she was protected, how would she manage on her own?

  Whatever he was, whatever he’d done, she wanted the truth. Deep in her heart, she prayed there was some explanation.

  Frederica tiptoed along the passage toward a sliver of light cast on the flagstones by the ajar kitchen door. Knowing William, she’d find him taking his ease by the fire instead of standing on guard outside a locked cellar door. Her tale of noises below her chamber window and fears of a possible accomplice should send the footman out into the night chasing shadows, wanting to satisfy her foolish womanly fears.

  If she played her part right.

  With shaking fingers, she pulled her wrap closer about her and pushed the door open. The figure on the settle by the hearth straightened. Sharp eyes observed her over a tankard.

  She stared at him, mouth agape. ‘Mr Snively?’

  ‘I wondered how long it would be before you put in an appearance,’ Snively said.

  She winced. ‘I thought William was guarding the prisoner.’

  He set his mug down on the hearthstone. ‘I sent him to bed with a belly full of his lordship’s best porter.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Come to see Robert, have you? You’ve been getting far too close to that young man, you have.’

  Nothing slipped past Mr Snively. ‘I wanted to speak to him. Ask him what happened.’ She twined her fingers together. ‘I just can’t believe he would do such a thing.’

  ‘No more do I,’ Snively said. ‘That there lass and the viscount are up to something.’

  ‘Lady Caldwell, you mean?’

  ‘I do, Miss Wynchwood. There have been some latenight visitations between those two. And the way his lordship looked at Robert Deveril, I could see there was bad blood between them. Old bad blood, or my name’s not Joshua Snively.’

  A little bud of hope unfurled in Frederica’s chest. ‘Do you think they put the jewels in his pocket to make him look guilty?’ She frowned. It didn’t make sense, or answer the question of how they knew Robert. Or why they would deliberately incriminate him? Or why he’d let them? But it was a relief to know that Mr Snively shared her doubts. She plunked down on to a chair. ‘What should we do?’

  ‘If he runs, he’ll never prove his innocence. If he is innocent, that is. He’ll be a hunted man.’

  Frederica’s blood chilled. ‘What is the alternative?’

  ‘Damned if I know,’ Snively said, scratching at his chin. ‘If he stays, he’ll hang for sure.’

  She couldn’t bear the thought of Robert being hanged, even if she was his dupe. ‘Then we must set him free.’

  He nodded. ‘We’ve another matter to discuss too, miss. This business of your betrothal. You don’t want to marry Master Simon, do you?’

  Even though she’d hinted to Snively that she had no desire to marry her cousin, astonishment didn’t begin to describe the emotion whirling in her head to hear Snively speak so boldly of family matters.

  He narrowed his eyes. ‘If you do, I’ll say no more.’

  Frederica found her tongue. ‘No. I do not want to marry my cousin.’

  ‘Ah. Fair shook the wind out of my sails when I heard the announcement, it did.’ He glowered. ‘Something’s gone wrong. Your uncle received a letter from Bliss two days ago. I’m thinking it’s behind this rush to marry you off.’

  ‘Who is Bliss?’

  ‘A London lawyer with information of interest. I can’t say any more.’

  Could he sound any more mysterious? ‘I don’t have time for this now.’

  ‘It’s important.’

  ‘I can’t see how it is more important than a man’s life.’

  ‘You would if you knew,’ Snively muttered.

  ‘Knew what?’ She felt like screaming—he was being so secretive.

  ‘I’m not at liberty to say, miss. Not yet. But something has to be done.’

  It did and it would. She was leaving for London. Tomorrow. She’d use the first instalment from her drawings and buy a passage to Italy. The publisher could forward the rest of her money to Florence.

  In the meantime, she had to do something about Robert. ‘Can you saddle Pippin and leave him at the gate? I will talk to Robert and explain that running is his only course.’

  ‘I doubt he’ll need any encouragement,’ Snively said. ‘I’ll do as you bid, miss, but you and I needs to talk after.’

  ‘First thing in the morning.’

  ‘You’ll need these.’ He handed her a candle, a knife and a key. ‘Tell him to be as far from here as possible by morning. And he’s to keep mum about your part in letting him go.’

  Frederica felt her jaw drop. This was not the man she knew, the stiff and starchy Wynchwood butler. Not only had his accent changed, his personality had undergone a metamorphosis. It was all very odd. But right now she didn’t have time to think of anything except Robert and securing his freedom.

  She dashed down the cellar steps to the coal room. At the door she paused to listen.

  ‘R-Robert?’ she whispered through the keyhole.

  A metallic clang and then a crunching sound emanated from the other side of the door.

  ‘R-Robert. It is Frederica. Can you hear me?’

  ‘I can indeed.’ He sounded impatient. ‘Go back to bed.’

  ‘I’m going to open the door.’

  ‘All right,’ he sai
d slowly.

  The key turned easily in the lock. The bolt was stiff in its hasp and she flinched every time the metal squeaked, despite knowing no one could hear. The moment it shot back, the door flew open.

  Blinking, Robert stood in the doorway illuminated in the light of her candle. Coal dust streaked his face and his eyes were red-rimmed.

  ‘I-I…Are you all right?’

  A wry smile twisted his lips. ‘Aren’t you taking rather a risk, Miss Bracewell? Opening the door to a desperate criminal?’

  ‘Did you really steal the necklace? You denied it at first.’

  He stiffened slightly, so imperceptibly it almost seemed a trick of the wavering light. He lifted an arrogant brow. ‘And if I told you I did not steal it, would you believe me?’ He leaned one shoulder against the dusty wall, the picture of arrogance and insouciance. The picture of a rogue.

  It was as if he didn’t care if she believed him or not. She glared at him fiercely. ‘If you tell me you are innocent, then, yes, I believe you.’ She realised it was true. Despite everything, she trusted him, as she had trusted few others in her life.

  He stared at her for a long moment as if trying to decide whether or not to believe her. ‘I have a question of my own. Why did you say nothing about your betrothal?’ While the expression was still uncaring, she heard an edge in his voice.

  ‘I had no idea it would be announced tonight.’

  ‘That wasn’t my question.’

  How could she possibly explain? ‘I’m not going to marry my cousin Simon.’

  ‘You’ll forgive me if I say the arrangements looked pretty firm from where I was standing.’

  ‘How could I denounce poor Simon in front of all those people? I couldn’t make him a laughing stock, even if he is an idiot.’

  ‘Poor Simon indeed.’ The corner of his lip lifted in a mocking smile. ‘When did you plan to tell him of his cuckolding, before or after the wedding?’