by Brenda Novak
She finished wiping off the whatnot shelf in the corner and began to replace the extensive collection of porcelain thimbles and birds she had removed. “What’s that?”
“Evidently Nathaniel has disappeared, and his men are looking for him. They held my father at knifepoint at dawn.” He picked up an ivory elephant that graced the table next to the window and examined it thoughtfully.
Alexandra paused from her work. “Nathaniel has disappeared? From Newcastle, you mean?”
“From everywhere. Like I said, his men are looking for him. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?” He set the elephant back where he had found it and turned to look at her with such intensity that Alexandra almost dropped the vase she cradled in her lap.
“How would I?”
“I was just wondering how they knew where to find my father.”
Alexandra set the vase down. “I’m sure I don’t know. Perhaps they followed him.”
The marquess smiled and crossed the floor, coming to stand behind her. “You’re probably right. I’ve always liked you, you know. You have a certain… appeal.”
He touched the nape of her neck, but Alexandra didn’t move. She felt the pressure of his hand on her shoulder, turning her toward him, and risked a glance at his face. The look in Lord Clifton’s eyes reminded her of Rat and the way he had looked at her in Nathaniel’s cabin.
The marquess’s hand traveled over her shoulder and traced her collarbone, then started down toward her breast. His gaze followed his hand as it moved inexorably lower until Alexandra could stand his touch no longer. She pulled away, attempting to hide her distaste by averting her face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You didn’t react that way when Nathaniel touched you.”
She remembered how her pulse had raced at the slightest contact with the pirate captain. Clifton’s fondling brought nothing but revulsion. “I had no choice when Nathaniel touched me.”
“I can give you much. I have never taken a mistress before, but I would be generous. I could get you out of here”—he glanced around them—”and into a place of your own. You would have clothes and jewelry, nearly everything you want.”
Alexandra shook her head. “You have no idea of what I want.”
“I know what every woman wants. Are you so different?”
“I want a family of my own,” she countered.
“I didn’t say children were out of the question.”
Alexandra moved back, putting a few feet between them. “I didn’t say I want children. I said I want a family—and that means a husband.”
A look of irritation descended on Clifton’s face, and his next words sounded incredulous. “Certainly you’re not so naive. You can’t expect me to marry you. Someday I’ll bear the title in my father’s place. The son of a duke can’t marry a maid.”
“No, of course not.” Alexandra let bitterness ooze through her voice. By demanding the one thing Lord Clifton could never give her, she hoped to keep him at arm’s distance until she was able to help Nathaniel. Depending on what Trenton had learned at the Greentree Tavern, that could be sooner rather than later.
“I’ve got to finish my work,” she said. “If you will excuse me.” Setting the porcelain birds back on their shelf with a clink, she skirted past the marquess and darted through the door.
* * *
That night Alexandra found a small gift lying on her pillow. She worked later than the other maids, so they were usually asleep by the time she climbed to the attic. Tonight was no different. She glanced around the room, wishing she could ask one of them where the package had come from, then contented herself with opening it.
Soon the answer was obvious. A pair of diamond ear-bobs sparkled in the mellow light of her candle, simple yet elegant, and obviously expensive. A note fluttered to the ground from the open box. She retrieved it, then bent toward the light so she could read the sloppy writing of Lord Clifton’s left hand.
Dear Alexandra,
Please accept these as a token of my esteem.
There are many good things in life, besides marriage.
Fondest wishes,
Jake
Stunned, Alexandra sat numbly on her cot, staring at the teardrop earrings. Her refusal of Clifton was producing the opposite effect to what she had hoped. Instead of keeping him at bay, it created a challenge, causing him to pursue her, evidently without compunction.
Abbey stirred, prompting Alexandra to replace the lid. The marquess could give her many things, anything money could buy, but she wanted only one, and that was to know what had happened to Nathaniel.
Rising, she decided to return Lord Clifton’s gift immediately. She didn’t want her fellow maids to learn of his interest, nor did she want him to think a pair of earrings could change her mind.
She quickly descended the back stairs and used the servants’ door to enter the second floor. The marquess’s bedroom was just down the hall. If he was at home and the door was closed, she’d leave the small box on the ground, where he’d nearly step on it come morning. If he happened to be away, she’d put the earrings on his bed so he couldn’t miss them when he returned.
Before she’d gone halfway down the hall, however, she heard voices coming from the library. Someone was still up. Who? The duke? Lord Clifton? Lady Anne?
Alexandra paused to listen.
“Why would you buy such a costly gift for a maid?”
Recognizing Lady Anne’s voice, Alexandra crept closer.
“She probably would have been just as happy with a shawl or other trinket. She’s lucky a man of your status has decided to take an interest in her.”
“Not this maid. Alexandra is different.”
The marquess’s sister laughed. “Are you sure Nathaniel didn’t do something to that head of yours as well as your hand? I just took your bishop.”
Alexandra heard the clink of crystal.
“Pour me one, too,” Clifton said.
There was a moment of silence, and Alexandra pictured the two of them puzzling over a chessboard.
“Nathaniel’s getting his just due for what he’s done to me,” the marquess said.
“Holding Father at knifepoint is scarcely getting one’s just due.”
“That wasn’t Nathaniel. It was one of his men. Nathaniel is languishing in prison. He’ll never get out.”
“He’s at Newgate?”
Alexandra could barely hear the surprise in Lady Anne’s voice above the beating of her own heart. Nathaniel is alive, it thumped. Nathaniel is alive! She closed her eyes in relief and strained to hear Clifton’s next words.
“No, he’s in the hulks at Woolwich. Not a pleasant place, I assure you. It’s your move.”
In the hulks? Alexandra’s eyes flew open. That place was a living hell. Did Trenton already know? Was that why she hadn’t heard from him?
Or had Greystone captured Trenton as well? Her heart raced at this last thought. She didn’t want to be alone in her efforts to help them both.
“Do you ever wonder if Nathaniel is telling the truth?” Lady Anne surprised Alexandra with the sudden sincerity in her voice. “I mean, if he is our older brother, then he has been sorely wronged.”
“I am the one who has been sorely wronged. Nathaniel’s nothing but a liar and a thief,” the marquess retorted. “Besides, Father has chosen between us. Otherwise, Nathaniel would inherit everything, and you and I would find ourselves dependent upon that scoundrel’s charity. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not. I was just—”
“Don’t.”
“But I was only asking.”
“It doesn’t matter. Some things are better left alone.”
Alexandra didn’t hear Lady Anne’s response. The sound of footsteps came from the hall below, and she fled, seized by a mixture of emotions. Relief that Nathaniel was alive surged through her, along with a certain satisfaction in knowing, at long last, his situation. But the hulks… She covered her mouth, remembering the
bits and pieces she had heard about the prison barges.
At least he was in London—and still alive. Her mind returned to that one small ray of hope as she made her way to the attic. Only when she reached her bed did she realize that she’d forgotten to return Lord Clifton’s earrings.
* * *
Alexandra received word from Trenton the following day, but his message said that Nathaniel was in gaol at Liverpool. Confused, she wondered how that could be. If Nathaniel was in Liverpool, why had Lord Clifton said he was imprisoned at Woolwich?
Biting her lip in consternation, Alexandra considered sending Trenton another message. She had to let him know what she had learned, but she hesitated to trust the milkman with yet another letter. He delivered their correspondence only while traveling his normal route, so it would be delayed another day. She was certain Trenton would be on his way to Liverpool by then.
Instead, she approached Mrs. Wright in the kitchen, arranging her face into a worried frown. “Mrs. Wright?”
The busy housekeeper looked up. She was going over something with Cook, but Alexandra’s tone succeeded in gaining her attention.
“I’m afraid I’ve had some bad news.” Alexandra clutched Trenton’s letter to her breast. “It’s my mother.”
“What’s wrong?”
“She’s very ill. My sister says she’s on her last breath. I was wondering if I might have the afternoon off to visit her—just this once.”
“Oh dear, child. I didn’t know you had family close by. Of course we can manage here. Do you need some money for a cab?”
Alexandra squirmed at having to lie. “No. I’ll walk or beg a ride with someone who’s going that way.”
Cook, who stood next to Mrs. Wright, clucked her tongue in sympathy. “I hope your maman pulls through, mademoiselle.”
“I’ll use this as my afternoon off and won’t take another,” Alexandra offered, to appease her own conscience.
“Don’t worry about that now.” Mrs. Wright waved her away. “You’d best hurry along.”
Alexandra grabbed her shawl and headed out the door. At least her eagerness to escape the house was a reality. She fumbled in the pouch tied beneath her dress for the coin she would need to hire a cab, then ran around front. Woolwich was much too far to walk.
* * *
It took Alexandra well over an hour to get to Woolwich, and her palms sweated the entire way.
When she saw the outline of the prison barges in the distance, her breath caught in her throat. Could she do this? She had heard awful things about the hulks, but she had to know if Nathaniel was there or not.
The cab finally stopped near the royal arsenal, and Alexandra bade the driver to wait. She would only be a minute, just long enough to catch a glimpse of him.
It was a hot, dreary day, the onset of summer. Alexandra left her shawl in the carriage before descending.
A quick glance at the darkening sky told her a storm was on its way. She’d spent most of her time indoors and had all but missed spring. Now she felt deprived. The summer months were hot and miserable. And they had to be doubly so for the inmates, she thought, watching a gang of men stacking shot.
Unmistakably prisoners, they were sixteen to a group with a club-carrying guard to keep them in line. Most were shackled; those who were not seemed too weak to move, let alone work, but work they did.
Alexandra scanned the group, trying to see the face of each convict. Six prisoners were being led through the throng toward the water, evidently heading back to the ships, but Nathaniel was not among them.
She turned her gaze to those who were stacking shot. Please, just let me know where he is and that he’s alive, she prayed, her eyes frantically searching among the filthy, emaciated bodies.
When Alexandra finally saw Nathaniel, she wondered how she had ever missed him. He stood, working with the others, not more than thirty feet away. Dirt and sweat streaked his face. He wore rags like the other prisoners, but his arm gave him away—that, and an undeniably confident air.
Nathaniel seemed to feel her stare, as if it were something physical that spanned the distance between them. He paused from his work and rose to his full height, gazing back at her as though she were some sort of vision.
Alexandra gasped, and her nails curled into her palms. She wanted to acknowledge him in some way, but the ache in her heart made it difficult to move.
She forced her hand open to wave. “Nathaniel,” she whispered as her throat constricted with unshed tears.
Nathaniel’s face looked hewn from stone. He did not react, but Alexandra was positive that he recognized her.
Then a guard appeared next to him. “Ogling the ladies, are we, cripple? Get back to work.”
Nathaniel glared at the guard, then looked back at Alexandra. She could almost see the clarity of his blue eyes—until the guard struck him with a large, ponderous stick.
“I said, back to work,” the guard shouted, hitting him again.
“No!” Alexandra cried, clinging to the fence. “Please, let him be!”
The blows continued as another guard approached her. “Miss! Miss! Who are you, miss?” he asked, and Alexandra knew she had to get away from the pitiful scene before she caused Nathaniel any more harm.
Turning, she stumbled blindly toward the carriage, tears streaming down her face. She tripped on her hem and fell once, then scrambled to her feet, biting her lip to hold back the sobs that racked her frame. Finally she climbed inside the waiting conveyance, and the driver pulled away.
Chapter 18
Something snapped inside Nathaniel as Alexandra disappeared from the wharf. He had bided his time and paced himself for ultimate endurance, but the sight of her horrified expression broke the tenuous grip he had on his patience. He exploded with a ferocity that stunned the guard who beat him. Wrapping his arm around the stick, he jerked it away in one fluid motion that left those around him gaping in surprise. Then he used it to knock the guard to the ground.
The chaos that erupted after that seemed to last forever, but Nathaniel knew it could have been no more than a few seconds. He fought with the energy of a wild man while the shouts and cries of the other prisoners and guards rang in his ears. Some of the prisoners took his lead and began to fight as well, while others cowered in fright.
Ultimately the prisoners didn’t have a chance. Nathaniel had known it before he landed his first blow. The chains were too much of a hindrance, the clubs too devastating with so many guards to wield them.
After some initial fear and confusion, the guards rallied with a vengeance. Nathaniel felt the pain of their attack, but he didn’t care. He kept going when most men would have stopped. Nothing mattered except his need to fight back, to answer their cruelty. But he knew he would pay. Even as the blow that knocked him senseless landed on the back of his head, he knew.
* * *
Alexandra had the cab driver drop her at the end of Berkeley Street. She wasn’t quite ready to face Mrs. Wright and the others. She was still shaking despite the long ride back, and needed a few minutes more to compose herself after the horrifying sight of watching Nathaniel being beaten like a dog.
She had to let Trenton know. The duke had misled him, had sent him off to Liverpool when Nathaniel was right here all the time, in London. Worse was the thought that Trenton might not be able to help Nathaniel. How could they, or anyone else, get him out of that terrible place?
Perhaps she should head to Liverpool in search of Trenton, she thought, anxious to do something. But she instantly knew the folly of that idea. How would they find each other? Besides, her sudden disappearance would arouse the duke’s suspicion, and until they had Nathaniel safely away from the hulks, she didn’t dare provoke Greystone.
If they could get him safely away…
The wrought iron gate of Greystone House loomed before her, and Alexandra took a deep breath. She didn’t want to go back, but she had to face the other servants and Lord Clifton and the duke and pretend she mourned for an ill
mother. Otherwise, Trenton wouldn’t know where to find her. For caution’s sake, she knew he couldn’t return to the inn where he had stayed before.
“Where have you been?”
Alexandra jumped as the marquess stepped out from beneath an elm tree. “You frightened me,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest as if she could stop the racing of her heart.
“You haven’t answered my question. Where have you been?”
“If you needed me, you had only to ask Mrs. Wright, and she would have sent another maid.” Alexandra kept her voice calm, trying not to reveal how much his attitude irritated her.
“Mrs. Wright said you went to see your ailing mother. You told me when we were with Nathaniel that you have no family.”
Alexandra’s knees went weak as her mind groped for something that Lord Clifton might believe. “Actually, I—I wanted to show the earrings you gave me to a friend,” she said.
The marquess smiled, making Alexandra grateful that his vanity was sufficient for him to accept the lie. “Of course. Do you like them?” He took her hand and drew her back under the tree with him.
“Not every maid receives such a gift from the son of a duke,” she said, playing her part.
“You’re not every maid. I’ve never seen another so lovely.” Taking her by the chin, Clifton tilted Alexandra’s head back so he could kiss her. She knew what was coming, and for Nathaniel’s sake, she steeled her nerves to accept it. But when the marquess’s ardor mounted and his hand moved down over her hips, she pulled away.
“Perhaps I misunderstood,” she said. “I thought the earrings were a gift, not a form of payment.” And she ran back inside the house.
* * *
Alexandra sat in Greystone’s study, her ears trained for the slightest sound. It was late in the night. The grandfather clock down the hall chimed the hour of three as she hurried to finish.
Dipping the duke’s quill back into his ink pot, she signed her name, then quickly read over her letter. She had no idea if Nathaniel would ever receive it, but word from her was the only thing she could give him at the moment.