“I...she...is entertaining in the green room.” The butler continued to back away in horror. “I shall just inform her of your presence, shall I?”
He turned and hurried away while Percival dropped his bag, taking the stairs two at a time, and burst into his chambers like a man possessed.
“Abigail!” he looked around for any sign of her possessions before hurrying across the hall to the chambers she had shared with Tommy. It, too, was devoid of any sign of her.
“Where is my wife?” he bellowed.
Claudette burst into the house calling for Abigail’s mother. “They took her!” She cried, “They took Abigail!” The house was silent, and nobody responded to her cries.
“Madam Joan probably went to work,” Tommy said.
“Indeed. I plum forgot.” Her hands were shaking so hard and her knees were so weak, she was quite surprised to still be on her feet. She flopped down on the settee, breathing hard.
“And you, young sir? How are you faring without your foster mother?” She frowned at Tommy, concerned at all the upheaval he had undergone in his young life. She was no stranger to upheaval herself, so she knew well the trauma it could cause.
She had gone to get him as soon as she got the message about Abigail’s arrest from her lady’s maid, Nell. Tommy shrugged, looking resigned before heading to the kitchen to look for something to eat. Abigail had to smile indulgently at his perpetual hunger.
Such a bottomless pit. She thought with affection.
A knock at the door startled her. “Come in!” she called before she could think further about it. The door opened slowly, and slow heavy steps trudged towards her.
She tensed, holding her breath.
Waiting to see who would come in. When he stepped in the room she froze with surprise.
“Percival.”
“Claudette.”
Suddenly a rage like she had never felt before built up within her and she got to her feet, rushing him. She pushed him against the wall, one hand on his throat, choking the life out of him.
“Where have you been, you bastard? Do you know what’s been going on here? Do you know what’s happened to your wife while you went off to sulk?” She was breathing hard as she let him go, stepping away from him, her teeth still gritted.
He did not try to defend himself or stop her. He simply stood there and took it.
“I was given some disturbing news and I needed some time to come to terms with it.”
“Well, I hope you have come to terms with that because there is more disturbing news. Abigail has been arrested. She’s being arraigned in court tomorrow.”
Percival shook his head. “This is the Earl’s doing for sure. Where are Mr. Sinclair and Mrs. Thorne?”
Claudette shrugged. “I don’t know. I just arrived myself, looking for them.”
“Right, well, I shall make my way to Newgate. Why don’t you go to the shop and find out if Mrs. Thorne is there?
Claudette nodded, swallowing hard as she got up to leave. She paused at the door, looking back at him. “We’ll save her, won’t we?”
Percival gave her back a grim nod. “I certainly hope so.”
Percival stepped into his house in search of all the gold he kept in his safe. His first task was to make sure Abigail was as comfortable as possible and that would mean greasing palms. He caught sight of Henry, walking down the hall and called after his cousin, wanting to know where his aunt was.
“Percival!” Henry said turning to face him. “You’re back.”
“I have been back for a while.”
His mouth quirked. “So I heard. I take it you finally found your wife?”
“I did. I am surprised that you don’t know that they took her away to prison.”
Henry shook his head. “I heard something of the same and would have written to apprise you, but you did not leave a forwarding address. When I got back from my sojourn to Brighton, I found that the Duchess had already been arrested.”
Percival sighed. “Henry, I am afraid your mother can no longer stay here. She has long been complicit with the Earl against my Duchess. Forbes tells me she fired him after he protested Abigail’s arrest.”
Henry nodded, his eyes unusually grave. “I understand.”
“What? No arguments? No pleas for a second chance?” Percival’s eyes sharpened as he got a good look at Henry’s eyes.
“Henry…what’s the matter?”
Henry’s shoulders dropped in defeat. “Let’s go into your study. We need to talk.”
Percival followed his cousin with a frown.
He shut the door of his study behind him and turned to face Henry. The grave expression on his cousin’s face was discomposing.
“Henry? What’s the matter?”
“I…” Henry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I inadvertently walked in on my…mother and…”
Henry’s eyes filled with tears.
Percival hurried to the decanter tray to fill up a glass with brandy. He handed it to Henry. “Drink.”
Henry swallowed the whole thing down.
“Now tell me.” Percival said, his heart pounding with anxiety.
“I stumbled upon my mother…in her bedchamber…and she was not alone.”
Percival frowned, going over the words, and then his brow cleared. “Oh.”
“Yes.”
“Well…she is a widow, Henry. If she has found—”
“It was Benedict Hoskins. The man she was with.”
Percival went cold. “I beg pardon.”
“My mother, was in flagrante with Lady Rosaline’s father.” Henry’s voice trembled. “But that is not the worst part.”
Percival snorted. “What could possibly be worse?”
“They seemed to be discussing…” Henry’s mouth opened and closed as if the words would not come out.
“What, Henry? What were they talking about?”
Percival had an awful feeling he knew what was coming.
“I think…they were talking about possibly making sure the Duchess had some kind of fatal accident. From the way they were speaking, I have a feeling it was not the first time. They mentioned foxes. I don’t know why.”
Percival had to sit down before he fell down.
They arrived early to the courtroom, Mr. Sinclair and Mrs. Thorne rode with Percival. The carriage was deathly silent, everyone lost in their own thoughts. Nobody wanted to talk about what would happen if Abigail was found guilty. All indicators pointed to this judge having been…persuaded to do just that. There was no jury. With the speed at which the trial was convened, there was no time to assemble one.
They had already been notified by their solicitors that the death penalty was to be considered.
The carriage came to a stop and all three alighted in front of the residence of the magistrate. A carriage was already parked nearby, bearing the crest of Newgate Prison. That meant that Abigail was already here.
Percival took a deep breath, and began to walk towards the door, Abigail’s parents following closely behind.
The door was opened by a man dressed like a butler and they were directed towards a small hall, where Abigail already sat, flanked by two Newgate guards. Percival’s heart broke to see her looking so small and scared.
He took a step towards her, but one of her guards shook his head at him, a grim look on his face. He stopped, but his eyes sought out Abigail’s. Her hair covered her face in an unruly mane and she had not looked up once. Percival willed her to look up, to see him, to know that he was here for her. She didn’t move.
The magistrate entered the room and everyone got to their feet. Once he had taken his seat, Percival sought a chair behind Abigail, next to her parents, and sat down as well.
The magistrate hit his gavel, exhorting the room to silence. His court clerk read out the charges, loud and clearly and then he sat down, giving way to the prosecutor.
The door opened behind him and Percival turned around to see Lord Huntington and his family
file into the courtroom, closely followed by his aunt. He gasped, not having expected them to show up, and then turned to face the front. His teeth ground together in frustration as he thought about everything Lord Huntington had done to his family.
And here he is, cool as you please, trying to destroy us once again.
It was all Percival could do not to lunge at him and strangle him until he was dead. He had never felt so deeply and utterly betrayed, so violated and attacked.
What did I ever do to you?
The proceedings continued, with the prosecutor calling as witnesses to the crime, all the principal members of the Hoskins family staff as well as Lady Rosaline herself, to testify as to the theft of the ruby. Further, he called on various members of the ton who were present on the day Lady Rosaline accused Abigail of theft in her shop.
They all confirmed that Abigail was a thief and a danger to the ton. Lady Ahern even went so far as to declare that Abigail had ingratiated herself by lying and that is how she managed to bamboozle the Duke into running off with her to Gretna Green.
“The marriage itself is evidence that she is a charlatan of the highest order.”
Percival was on his feet before he had time to think and resisted when Philip tried to pull him back down.
“I will thank you to keep your bird-witted insults to yourself,” he growled.
Lady Ahern gasped, hand on her chest in genteel shock. She looked to the magistrate to rescue her from this unwarranted attack.
“The Duke will kindly refrain from speaking out of turn in my courtroom.”
Percival growled again for good measure before re-taking his seat.
“You see, Your Honor? She has probably bewitched him with herbs and spells. Who is to say what the scapegrace is willing to do to get her way?”
Percival had never thought to hit a woman before in his life but Lady Ahern was really testing his resolve. Mrs. Thorne reached over and put her gloved hand over his, a quelling look in her eye.
The door of the chambers opened again and everyone turned to see Claudette enter, looking flustered, her color high indicating she had been running.
“Sorry,” she mumbled before taking a seat behind Mrs. Thorne.
The magistrate thanked Lady Ahern for her testimony and she left the witness chair. He then turned to face the room.
“Would the accused like to offer a defense?”
Abigail got to her feet.
The sound of Percival’s voice speaking up in her defense had quite startled Abigail. She had not known he was there. She had wished it with all her heart but hadn’t dared raise her head to check, lest she be disappointed.
There was not a snowball’s chance in hell of escaping the hangman’s noose unless they could equal Lord Huntington’s influence. Even with the Duke in court and on her side, it was evident that sentiment was against her. Indeed, the Duke’s presence on her side seemed to harden whatever animosity the participants felt toward her.
A wave of nausea overtook her.
I don’t want to die!
When the magistrate asked if she had something to say, she got to her feet on shaking legs. What could she say that would change his mind?
“Y-your honor, I have nothing to say other than I am innocent of all these charges. I went to Lady Rosaline’s house at her invitation. She wanted me to reject His Grace’s suit in her favor. I said no and made to leave. She ordered the Bow Street Runner to search me, and he put his hand in my garment and emerged with the ruby. But that was her doing. She must have put it there when I was distracted!”
“But this was the second incident of theft, was it not?”
“Your Ηonor, I did not take the first piece of jewelry, either, and no trace of it was found in my shop. It was simply a bit of chicanery to cast me in a bad light in front of the Duke.”
She took a deep shaky breath, trying to swallow her tears.
“Please, sir, I just want to go home to my family.” The last word was shaky as she could not stop her breakdown. Tears streaming down her face, she groped blindly for her seat. The warmth of Percival’s hand on her shoulder squeezing as if he would never let go steadied her a bit. Once the guard caught sight of it, though, he flicked it off her shoulder like it was a troublesome fly. Percival made a sound of annoyance but did not try to retaliate.
The magistrate sighed, reading over the evidence in front of him as everybody waited with bated breath. He looked up at one point; eyes narrowed at Abigail and then continued to read.
Putting the papers aside, he faced the court.
“I have looked through the evidence and weighed the testimonies of all who have taken the stand today.” His eyes flicked towards the earl and Abigail’s heart sunk.
“Having done that, it is my opinion that Miss Abigail Thorne is guilt—”
“Before you continue with your verdict Your Honor, I should like to say something.”
Abigail turned, her body freezing in shock at this new development. There was a man standing at the door, distinguished, with salt and pepper hair, meticulously groomed. He was fairly tall, though not as tall as Percival, and looked vaguely familiar. He took a step toward the magistrate and then another. Abigail noticed he had a slight limp.
No.
All the blood drained from her face in disbelief. She looked back at her mother and uncle. The former looked scared while the latter looked resigned.
Did they know about this?”
“And just who dares interrupt the court?”
The man stopped right by Abigail’s chair, turning his head slightly to wink at her.
“My name is Reginald Sinclair, Your Honor, and I have evidence pertinent to these proceedings.”
If Abigail had been standing she would have fallen to the floor. Her mother’s hand on her shoulder, squeezing so tight it hurt, grounded her a little.
The magistrate frowned. “Reginald Sinclair? Why is that name familiar?”
Lord Huntington got to his feet. “It is because he is a notorious criminal, my lord, one who was presumed dead.”
Reginald Sinclair waved his hand airily. “Reports of my death have been vastly overestimated.” He turned to the earl. “Especially by old Benedict here.”
There was uproar in the courtroom at this blatant disrespect. Reginald stood nonchalantly, waiting for it to dissipate.
The magistrate banged his gavel and the room fell silent. “Perhaps you should explain yourself before I have you arrested for disrupting my court.”
Reginald bowed. “Gladly, Your Honor.”
He turned to face the gallery, filled with members of the press, the public and other interested parties. “Twenty-six years ago, Lord Huntington was done up and sought out cent per centers to recoup his losses. When he could not repay the loan, he went to his friend, Edward Montagu, for help. But Lord Huntington was punting on River Tick and His Grace was not a bottomless pit of charity. There was only so much he could do to help. Lord Huntington was angry with His Grace, they fought, and Benedict accused His Grace of deliberately withholding his help because of jealousy. You see, Montagu and Hoskins once vied for the affections of the same woman.” His eyes fell on Lady Huntington. “His Grace asked the Earl to leave and not return.
“Meanwhile, Lady Stanley became a widow with a young son and even though her late husband had left her a jointure, it apparently was not enough for her needs.”
There was a growing murmuring among the listeners. Reginald ignored them while Abigail watched open mouthed. There was a ringing in her ears.
My father is alive? He is here?
“They not only wanted to recoup their losses, but also to control His Grace’s finances, have access to his titles, and the properties that were not entailed. Furthermore, they wanted his son, as the next Duke, to marry Lady Rosaline in order that his descendants would be under their control. So they came to me, and asked me to kill the Duke and his wife.”
The uproar in the courtroom was at a crescendo. Reginald kept talking a
nd the quietness of his voice did more to end the noise than all the magistrate’s banging on his gavel.
“It was that or lose all his property and have his family on the street. You see, he signed a paper with the impost takers, giving over his property in exchange for a large sum of cash. He managed to hold them off by paying them slowly with money skimmed off the Duke’s family income for years, with Lady Stanley’s compliance. But then, a twist in the tale; the son rejects Lady Rosaline and marries a commoner. They could not have that, so they made plans to frame the poor woman and get her out of the way.”
Secret Confessions of the Enticing Duchess: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 28
