The Gamble

by Laura Parker

  And then he smiled, having had a brilliant thought. There was a way to insure that she would not be left out again, even in this matter. “I will, of course, require a woman’s touch in the affair.”

  Lotte’s eyes narrowed. “What sort of woman’s touch?”

  “Yours, Lotte love. I must find a way to speak to Sabrina Lyndsey alone. I have a message for her from Darlington.”

  Lotte’s expression brightened. “Leave that to me. No one would think a thing of it were I to visit her. And we must hurry this up, Ran. We must find a method to free Jack so that he and Sabrina can be as happy as we are.”

  As happy as we are, Ran mused and he tenderly rolled Lotte onto her back so that he could make love to her again. He did not think a dozen people on the globe were as happy as they were at that very moment.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Randolph Lovelace rose to his feet as the counsel for the defense with the full confidence of a man who had shared with his peers in the House of Lords the long tedious hours of this trial. Some members of this august body had fallen asleep during the recitations of witnesses for the prosecution while others contented themselves by gossiping. In the rear, a card game had sprung up. But all eyes were now alertly upon him, curious as to what defense he would offer for the West Indian-bred nobleman.

  The trial had become a spectacle, with feelings running high on both sides as the prosecution had interrogated a parade of presumed victims of the notorious outlaw Jack Law. Some had called for hanging but most, predominantly women, carried bouquets to show their sentiment in favor of the romantic exploits of the highwayman. The benches as well as the galleries were full to bursting with the curious who had come to see to it that, as the prosecution had stated that morning, “Someone pay for the infamous variety of crimes.”

  It was his job to see that it was not Lord Darlington.

  Randolph turned his attention to his first, and hostile, witness. “I submit to you, Sir Alan Buckley, that you must refute the prosecution’s claim that the gentleman in the dock is Back Jack Law.”

  “I will not!” Sir Alan crossed his arms before his chest, his expression pugnacious. “Lord Darlington claims to be the highwayman and I stand here to second that claim. He was in Bath at the time of the recent robberies that plagued us.”

  “Then do explain to us, Sir Alan, why during that same time you arrested another man whom you claimed was the real Jack Law?”

  Sir Alan snorted. “No need to explain anything. The rascal confessed.”

  “Under the administration of a whip,” Randolph added.

  The witness’s smile was complaisant. “Many a confession has been got by the use of the lash. Loosens the tongue of the miscreant.”

  “I should imagine a useful lie would serve as well, if it halted the application of torture,” Randolph said sharply.

  The knight shifted on his feet. “I took his confession in the spirit with which it was rendered.”

  “Under duress.” Randolph knew he should move on from this point, for there were more sympathizers in the House for Sir Alan’s methods than not. “Are you certain that it was not the wily fellow’s escape that led you now to accept another candidate for the role of Blackjack?”

  “Nonsense. Lord Darlington gave himself away.”

  “Then you forced an innocent man to confess?”

  Sir Alan’s face reddened with ire. “I cannot speak for the fellow. All I know is I did my duty as I saw fit under the law.”

  Ran smiled and turned a sly expression on members of his constituency. “Gentlemen, I should take care if you are ever so unfortunate as to come under Sir Alan’s jurisdiction. His persuasive manner leaves something to be desired.”

  The contemptuous snickers and guffaws from both sides of the aisle heartened Randolph. Buckley was a pompous braggart who deserved no less than to be hoisted by his own petard.

  “Are you equally certain, sir, that your testimony is not corrupted by a personal enmity toward Lord Darlington?”

  Buckley’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I refer to an encounter in a gambling salon in Bath on the evening of the very same day you boasted of your arrest of Jack Law. There are witnesses to an altercation between you and the viscount. I believe he remarked upon your—” Ran pointed to a line of text on the table before him. “Lack of prowess in the boudoir.”

  Sir Alan turned an alarming red. “Might have done,” he muttered. “ ’Twas said more to impress his whore.”

  Randolph moved quickly from that point, as well. “I stray from the matter before us. Your certainty of Lord Darlington’s culpability baffles me. We have all heard the testimony, testimony that described Jack Law variously.”

  He reached for the foolscap upon which he had scribbled a few notes. “Ah yes, let me read a few samples. ‘A dark fellow,’ ‘a brooding hulk of a man with bad teeth,’ ‘a thorough-going gentleman in rich garments,’ ‘a monster with flaming eyes,’ ‘short and thick-necked,’ ‘tall and handsome,’ ‘rapier thin with a thatch of red hair.’ ”

  Randolph glanced up with a bemused smile as the chamber hummed with comments and chuckles. “I defy any individual to step forward who can answer that description in total.”

  Sir Alan’s lip curled in disdain. “Some may be mistaken, or perhaps the fellow wore a disguise.”

  “Or perhaps in the extremity of the moment,” Randolph suggested, “they saw nothing at all, or only a cast of their own worst nightmares.”

  Buckley crossed his arms high on his chest. “I will not call a single one a liar.”

  “Nor do I,” Randolph replied cordially. “The witnesses were robbed.” He turned to face the Lord Chancellor. “I only contend that they were not, any of them, robbed by Lord Darlington.”

  Amid the mutters and murmurs that rose in the wake of his comment, he flipped through his notes, smiling to himself. The prosecution, in their haste to submit a large number of charges, had not bothered to exercise any regularity upon the testimony they had allowed.

  “But now we come to the greater perplexity. Sir Alan, you apprehended the fellow you suspected to be Black Jack Law on November 2nd in the environs of Bath. Yet that very same night Squire Helium declares Jack Law held him up in Derbyshire. I submit that Blackjack would need Satan’s own nag to ride from Derbyshire to Bath on the same night.”

  Sniggers and querulous mutters again rolled through the chamber.

  “Perhaps not every robbery was committed by Black Jack,” Buckley conceded testily. “That don’t negate the fact that Lord Darlington confessed himself to be Black Jack.” He nodded, snug in his assertion. “That’s good enough for me.”

  Randolph offered him a blighting glance. That parting shot struck at the very heart of his defense. Darlington had yet to recant. For that he needed other help. “I am done with you, sir. You may step down.”

  As the man left the witness box, Randolph strolled over to his side of the aisle. “How goes the course?” he inquired of Lord Stilton, who sat on the front row.

  “They are listening, which is rare enough,” his colleague and advisor answered.

  “I believe that the next few minutes shall entertain them mightily.” He stepped away. As he did so, he allowed himself a rare glance at his wife. She sat in the first row behind the lords on his side of the aisle, looking splendid in rose brocade and fox fur. Despite his desire that she remain away from the stress and strain of the day, she had insisted upon coming to the trial.

  “I wish to be there in your hour of triumph, Ran,” she had declared at the breakfast table. “I should like to be able to tell our child of your glorious victory over small minds in the name of friendship.”

  Ran doubted he would ever account Darlington among his friends, but he owed Lotte her pound of flesh in a public forum for he had once, to his everlasting shame, believed the worst of her. His defense of the gentleman presumed by rumor to have cuckolded him was
a small price to pay.

  Lotte’s eyes shining with loving devotion made him feel as though he had tiptoed past the gates to hell and found the devil sleeping. He had nearly lost her! Her frank adoration in a room of disinterested parties made his heart beat quicker with gladness that he had not.

  He turned to face the Lord Chancellor, who acted on this occasion as judge. “The defense calls Miss Lyndsey.”

  From the corner of his eye Randolph saw Jack rise to his feet and he approached the defendant to keep it from appearing that anything untoward was occurring.

  “What the devil do you think you’re doing?” Jack demanded in a deadly whisper.

  “Saving your neck,” Randolph responded under his breath.

  Jack eyed him coldly. “I don’t need to be saved.”

  Randolph smiled slightly. “I know, old boy. But there’s my reputation to think of. Sit down before you do her testimony irreparable harm.”

  “If you insult her in any way, I will kill you.”

  “You must needs be free to do that.”

  Randolph moved quickly away and turned his attention to his next witness. What he was about to do was harsh but necessary. Since Darlington would not defend himself, he was now forced to do it for him. “My lords, the defense again calls Miss Sabrina Lyndsey.”

  Sabrina ignored the swelling of comments as she rose from her seat beside her guardian. But McDonnell trod hard on her toe as she made to move past him. “Remember our bargain,” he hissed between clenched teeth.

  She moved quickly away, the feeling of revulsion running high in her. She had pledged to wed Merripace, this very day, if Jack were set free. The lavender silk gown she wore, an elaborate affair with a formal arrangement of pleats that showed off her neat, corseted figure to full advantage, would either be her wedding dress or her shroud.

  As she walked between the rows of benches, she could not help but hear the murmurs of the lords who sat in judgement of Jack.

  “Darlington’s whore.”

  “Fine-looking filly.”

  “Strumpet.”

  “… the merchant classes above themselves!”

  “Money don’t make for breeding.”

  “Can’t blame Darlington.”

  “… abscond with that piece meself!”

  The alternating waves of hostility and suggestive puerile comments battered her until her legs trembled by the time she reached the witness box. Yet she kept her head high, though the effort cramped the muscles in her neck. She knew what most of London thought of her. She was either the disgraced maiden of abduction or a common wanton who had led one of their own astray. Their sympathies lay elsewhere.

  After she was sworn in, she folded her hands before her. During the entire ordeal, she had not so much as spared Jack a single glance. She feared that Cousin Robert would notice the looks that passed between them and refuse to allow her to speak. Now she was about to risk everything on a gamble to save Jack.

  “Miss Lyndsey,” Ran began politely, “are you acquainted with the defendant, Lord Jack Laughton, Viscount Darlington?

  “Yes.”

  “Did he pay address to you in your position as companion to the Countess Lovelace? Or was it your habit to undermine the lady’s generosity by conducting idle flirtations with any and all of her aristocratic male guests?”

  “I did no such thing!” Sabrina answered, surprised by this unexpected attack from Jack’s counsel. Lord Lovelace’s expression gave no hint of his purpose.

  “No? Then perhaps you were opportuned upon by the viscount without encouraging him. His reputation is that of a seducer.”

  Sabrina quickly reeled in her temper. She knew she must keep her wits sharp. The slightest mistake could cost Jack his freedom. “Lord Laughton never made any improper address to me while I was companion to the countess.”

  “Then must we assume, as the prosecution suggests, that Lord Darlington, in the guise of Jack Law, stole you for ransom.”

  Sabrina forced a smile. “Preposterous. I left Bath with Lord Darlington of my own free will.”

  “As would half o’ London!” came a catcall from the upper gallery.

  “To what purpose?” Randolph questioned at the back of the laughter.

  Sabrina began to breathe a little easier. She could now tell her story. “He offered to help me free my brother.”

  With one eye on his colleagues, Randolph offered her an incredulous expression. “Why should a viscount wish to help you, a commoner, steal a bastard child?”

  Sabrina’s mouth tightened at the use of the word bastard but she refused to let it hinder her. “Lord Darlington is a remarkable person. He saw my need and offered his aid.”

  Cynicism colored the counsel’s tone in suspicious shades. “For no perceived consideration or recompense?”

  “I cannot claim to know the workings of his lordship’s mind,” she answered crisply. “You will have to ask him.”

  “Yet the most grievous offense against my client is that he abducted you for nefarious reasons.”

  “I was not abducted,” she maintained with dignity despite the contempt and sneers directed toward her by the room of leering males. Suddenly she felt the need to declare the truth, though it made a fallen woman of her. “What I did, I did freely and I would do so again.”

  Randolph allowed himself a quick glance at his client to gauge his response to her declaration, for it made momentary pandemonium of the chamber. He saw with relief that Darlington’s features held no expression whatsoever. He appeared bored, disinterested, and even inattentive.

  As the Lord Chancellor banged his gavel for order, Randolph decided to offer her an escape, if she chose to use it.

  “There is another possibility, of course, Miss Lyndsey,” he declared in the sonorous voice that made him a great orator. “You are possessed of a goodly fortune. Could it be that the viscount, whose circumstances at the time you left London were, to put it delicately, indigent, might have conceived of the notion to follow you to Bath in order to woo your substantial fortune?”

  This was one answer she did not have to consider. “Lord Darlington has never proposed marriage to me.”

  “O’ course not, lovey!” came another taunt from the gallery. “Not when ye were swivin’ ’im for free!”

  That drew shouts of ribald laughter, but they quickly subsided in the avid desire to hear more.

  Randolph looked away from her, resigned to the necessity of delivering the last, most damaging blow to her character. “Your guardian had determined at the time you went to Bath that you were to be wed. Is that not so?”

  “Yes,” she answered guardedly, wondering anew at his purpose.

  “Yet there is a witness who will testify that you meant to spite his rightful authority in the matter.”

  “Mrs. Varney,” Sabrina murmured, anger gusting her breath. She had witnessed her argument with Cousin Robert. “I will not deny that I was averse to marriage. That is hardly a crime.”

  “And what better way for you to foil your guardian’s plan than by comporting yourself outrageously with a known rake?”

  The spitefully-worded question startled Sabrina. It seemed Lord Lovelace had taken the role of prosecutor and she was the accused. Well then, she knew how to treat an enemy.

  “I had thought the word ‘no’ might answer as well,” she said coldly. “I cannot be wed without my consent.”

  As the audience once again freely offered comment that required the Lord Chancellor’s intervention, she glanced at Jack for the first time. There was nothing in his mask of indifference to hint at his feelings about her presence in the courtroom, or whether he even cared. Dressed in severe black and white, he looked like a mourner at his own funeral. She looked quickly away as her heart filled with tamped-down emotion. Oh, but she had missed him, had never thought to see him again.

  For four weeks memories of him had been her only company. During her lonely hours of enforced isolation sh
e had kept her sanity by calling to mind every detail of their moments together. She dwelt upon the exact shape of his smile, the intoxicating taste of his lips, the strength of his arms about her, the inexplicable glory of their ecstasy. How long ago it all seemed, how far away they were from that time … how little it changed her feelings.

  “Miss Lyndsey?”

  Sabrina started at the sound of her name. For the duration of that one glance she had completely forgotten where she was and why. She refocused on Lord Lovelace. “Yes, my lord?”

  “Did you not tell the tale in Bath that you yourself were robbed and mistreated at the hands of a highwayman?”

  How did he know that? Sabrina felt as if she had stepped onto a frozen pond only to find it less solid than she had supposed. Trepidation tiptoed up her spine. “My coach was stopped and the thief relieved my companion of forty pounds.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you are too modest, Miss Lyndsey. I’m told you vowed that you had shot the villain with his own weapon.”

  “Oh, that.” Sabrina glanced down, as if horribly embarrassed by the admission when she would have liked nothing better than to take a shot at the too-wily Lord Lovelace. She could not guess his purpose and that unnerved her all the more. One slip and she could ruin everything.

  She looked up, summoning a smile that was all disarming charm. “I believe I may have embellished the tale. Perhaps, I made a too generous estimate of my skills with a pistol.”

  He looked at her sharply. “Who robbed you, Miss Lyndsey?”

  She did not look away from Lord Lovelace this time. “The fellow did not give his name.”

  “Did you not declare before your traveling companion that you recognized him to be none other than the notorious Blackjack Law?”

  She silently wished Mrs. Varney to blazes. “I might have. I was frightened and cold and in no mood to be detained.” Dear lord, what had that old harridan told the authorities?

  She turned deliberately away from members of Parliament to address the Lord Chancellor. “I had the evening before been teasing Mrs. Varney, my companion, about the perils of highway travel. We had discussed specifically the highwayman Blackjack Law. Quite naturally, as I had had no other acquaintance with villains, I thought of the name when the fellow who took her purse accosted us. Had I known the name Lovelace as that of a notorious outlaw, I might have been put in mind of the counsel for the defense, my lord.”