Edmund started to refuse, anxious to return to Selina and head to the bank, but stopped. He had hours, far too many, before the banks opened for the day. Pacing Selina’s parlor would not help the situation. Or her.
He took a deep breath and nodded. “See I’m not disturbed.”
Once in the study, he took out paper and quill and made a list of all he needed to accomplish today. Visit the bank first, obviously, though he didn’t want Selina using any of that money for her father’s defense. He’d pay the barrister, the new solicitor Hamilton had by now no doubt enlisted.
Edmund didn’t want to leave her side, not today. The broadsheets had already been printed — would they care about a merchant? Did they care about anything that happened on the docks?
He ran a hand down his face and snorted at his own naivety. Of course they would. Not because Arthur Lyndell was moneyed or successful.
Because the Earl of Granville was engaged to his daughter.
The wedding. He’d have to move it up and marry Selina quickly before any more rumors clung to her.
He scratched down a list of things he’d send his steward for and absently ate the breakfast Magnus had sent in. Edmund tasted none of it but dutifully ate as if he were a boy again. Magnus held a grudge about a great many things; disobeying him led only to headaches.
“Miss Norwood is here to see you,” Monroe, the butler, announced.
Edmund grimaced. He’d asked not to be disturbed. How difficult was that to understand? Usually it meant he wanted to see no one. Not even Miss Norwood.
Though he’d make an exception for Octavia. Or Hamilton.
He opened his desk drawer and shoved his list inside. Much as he liked Lillian Norwood, he did not wish for her to see his plans. She was a distant cousin, one he felt responsible for — nothing more.
Edmund rose and walked to the parlor. Lillian’s lady’s maid — whose name utterly escaped him — sat in the hallway on the bench. Lillian herself sat primly on the settee, the tea set out… and broadsheet in hand.
“Miss Norwood, now isn’t a good time,” he began.
She looked up at him with serious eyes. “It needs to be.”
It seemed everyone was destined to ignore his wishes this morning. Edmund dearly hoped this wasn’t a sign of how his day was to progress.
“Have you seen the day’s broadsheets?” she asked and rose, offering the one in her hand.
Edmund took it but did not glance at it. He didn’t need to know what it said. He also didn’t care.
One of her servants must’ve woken Lillian with the news. Of course she’d then dressed and waited until a barely respectable hour before paying him a visit and shoving the broadsheet in his face. Edmund was surprised she waited this long, surprised she wasn’t standing outside his front door when he arrived home this morning.
“If you do not separate yourself from that woman,” she continued in a soft yet still forceful voice, “your house will be as mired in scandal as hers is now. You need to rectify this quickly, Granville. I know there is no future for us.”
Lillian paused as if to judge his reaction. Edmund watched her impassively, and she nodded.
“You may use me,” she offered.
If he hadn’t already been speechless by her early morning call and the reason for it, Edmund found himself so now. Speechless and furious.
“Let everyone know you have already severed your ties with Miss Lyndell to do your duty with me,” she continued. “It will soften the blow to your name from all of this.”
Jaw clenched, he threw the paper to the ground with all the angry force he could muster. With great care, he managed to rein in his temper and speak somewhat evenly.
“Do you think any of that matters to me?” he demanded.
He spoke louder than he meant and heard her maid inhale sharply. With his hands fisted at his side, he took a deep breath. “They can say all they want,” he told her in a quiet, deadly tone. “Spout their lies, for all I care. I love Selina.”
He watched Lillian, but she seemed unsurprised at his declaration.
“And I won’t abandon her under any circumstance.”
“Don’t be a fool,” Lillian hissed, but her voice remained low. “If that man is found guilty, if the worst happens, it will taint you and your name. What of Octavia?” she asked, still quietly but with more vicious force. “Do you want to stifle her future? Destroy her name as well as yours?” Lillian took a step closer. “Who will marry her then? If not simply for her money. Think of more than yourself.”
With very careful precision, Edmund stepped back. Lillian only said what all of London would be by breakfast. It wouldn’t do to shoot the messenger.
“Leave my house,” he ordered.
Now shock did register over her lovely, pale features. Her head jerked back as if he had struck her, but she nodded once. Without another word she left the parlor, gathered her things and lady’s maid, and left his house.
Fury beat through him. Edmund wanted to pace, to relieve some of the excess energy currently pounding in time to his heart. He wanted to destroy something. Instead he turned sharply on his heel and reentered his study.
* * * *
Selina sat stiffly in the front parlor, anxiously awaiting Edmund’s arrival. Her fingers brushed down the somber blue of her gown over and over, pressing into the tops of her thighs in a vain attempt to still herself.
After Edmund left that morning, before the sun fully rose, she hadn’t been able to fall back asleep. Her body tugged pleasantly as a beautiful reminder of what they’d shared last eve. Without him by her side, his long, warm body wrapped around her, Selina hadn’t been able to stave off the nightmares.
She’d risen, quickly washed and dressed, and met Annabelle in the dining room. A scrumptious breakfast had been laid out, but neither woman felt up to eating.
The little bite of scone she’d managed churned nauseatingly in her stomach, and Selina barely managed to keep down her tea. Thompson, the butler, had tired cajoling her into eating more, but even he seemed unable to eat.
The entire household vibrated with the buzz of inactivity and the stress of waiting.
She knew they hid the broadsheets from her. Normally they lay on the sideboard, but today they were conspicuously absent. It was just as well, as she’d no desire to read them this morn. No desire to see the half-truths or vicious gossip.
She simply wanted to get on with the business of the day.
Selina had never truly had to wait. Not like this. Not for something so very important. She hadn’t cared when the shops opened or when the banks did. Even as her father’s bookkeeper, tracking the hours of such establishments was not one she worried over.
Her foot tapped on the floor, and her leg twitched. Unable to sit still any longer, she rose and gave into her nervous energy to pace.
She and Annabelle had emptied as many trunks as they found for the money Selina needed to withdraw from her accounts today. She’d easily found the paper authorizing her access to those accounts and it was currently tucked securely in her reticule, which even now hung from her wrist.
“I have the food basket,” Annabelle said from the parlor door.
She looked pale, with dark circles beneath her eyes. But she stood straighter now, still scared but ready to do anything she could to help. Selina loved her all the more.
“And the coin?” Selina asked.
Their voices were no more than whispers in the cold, unlighted parlor. The curtains hung open to the bleak October day; overhead the sky threatened to unleash a torrent of rain, and the wind that had gusted through the streets yesterday had not let up.
“I have it,” Annabelle assured her. “I’ll see he has all he needs. And,” she added with a forced smile, “I’ll see what I can learn about his trial.”
Selina nodded and hugged her cousin close. With another squeeze of her hands, Annabelle took her lady’s maid and one of the footmen, and left for Newgate.
Selina released a breath and resumed
her pacing. The parlor was not best suited for such a tense activity, but she didn’t care. There was much to accomplish today, and the sooner they did so, the easier she’d feel.
They’d free Father. They’d remedy the situation. They’d free Father. They’d remedy the situation. Selina thought this over and over, holding tight to her deep-seated belief in her father’s innocence. In their ability to free him — Arthur Lyndell was innocent and Selina knew they could prove that.
They’d free Father. There was no other option.
A sharp knock on the door startled her. For a heartbeat Selina froze, remembering yesterday’s unexpected guests. No, she knew that at this time of morning it had to be Edmund. The butler opened the door immediately — they’d all anxiously waited for Edmund’s return.
He barely had the chance to hand his cane and hat to Thompson before Selina crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him.
She didn’t care what it looked like, what the servants thought, or what any passersby might witness. She needed his arms around her, needed the comfort of being in his arms.
“Selina.”
He held her close, and the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear soothed her.
“I haven’t been able to sleep since you left, or eat.” She lifted her head to look at him. One of his large hands smoothed down her back, the other pressed between her shoulder blades.
“I wouldn’t go to the bank, save Father requested it of me. I only want to go down to the courthouse and yell at them.” Her voice hardened, rose. “Tell them what fools they are. They cannot hold an innocent man.”
One hand cupped her cheek, the other the nape of her neck. He was warm against her chilled skin, his dark eyes calm. But Selina knew him too well and saw the tension around his eyes, lining his mouth. But his touch was firm, intimate.
“I know.” Edmund kissed her softly, a brief press of his lips to hers. “We will move with purpose today and do all we can to see that your father is freed.”
Selina nodded and forced herself to step back. They had far too much to do for her to stay in his arms any longer.
She barely remembered the drive to the bank. The papers in her reticule weighed heavily, as did both keys to the wine cellar, where she planned to hide the trunks. Selina clutched the cloth tightly in cold, stiff fingers.
At the bank, they were taken to a private office, where Edmund greeted the manager with a cordial nod and handshake.
It took much less time than Selina thought it would to empty her accounts. Hours still to finalize everything and formalize the books; far less time than she imagined to empty out a part of her life.
And though the bank manager assured her they moved as quickly as possible, Selina wanted them to hurry. She wanted to see her father, to reassure herself he was safe. To assure him she’d done all she could to help. Her fingers twisted in her skirts, wrinkling the fabric, but she didn’t care.
The manager rose to see to something, and Edmund’s hand closed over her fingers. Selina looked up and tried to speak. The words caught in her throat. She didn’t know what she wanted to say, but she appreciated his presence. His touch.
She had no real notion of such a process and watched the somber bank employees pass the money from vault to chests, then carry each chest to Edmund’s carriage under the watchful eye of his heavily guarded footmen.
Instead of easing the knots in her stomach, seeing her money leave the bank in her clothing chests only tightened them further.
“I don’t like the thought of these trunks lying in your wine cellar,” he said in a low voice.
It was not the first time he’d expressed his displeasure with their hastily concocted plan.
“It’s the only way,” she repeated, fingers again twisting in her skirts. “I trust my staff.”
And she’d need the money close for whatever else happened.
Finally they returned to her townhouse, and Edmund handed her out of the carriage. Selina looked up and down the street, but nothing had changed. It looked as it always had — a beautifully maintained and well-to-do street in a fashionable neighborhood.
Selina didn’t know what she expected, but given how her life had changed, she expected her world, this street, to have as well.
Annabelle stood in the foyer, even paler than when Selina had last seen her early this morning. Thompson barely closed the door before she spoke.
“Mr. Hamilton sent word from the courthouse,” she said, eyes flicking from her to Edmund. “Your father’s indictment proceedings have begun.”
Her stomach fell to her feet. “So soon? Don’t these things take days?” She tore her gaze from Annabelle and looked up to Edmund. Her chest constricted, and it hurt to breathe. “Have you managed to find a barrister?”
His hand settled on the small of her back, a slight comfort. “He was being contacted this morning. I don’t know if he’s made it to the Old Bailey.”
“We need to go.” She turned back to the door, where even now the footmen carried in the first of her trunks. “I need to go. Annabelle, will you see to the trunks?”
“Yes, of course. Yes.” Annabelle stopped her and took the reticule from Selina’s wrist. Her fingers shook, Selina noted, even as Annabelle squeezed her hand. “As soon as I do, I’ll meet you at the Old Bailey.”
Selina nodded and handed Annabelle the keys to the wine cellar. She kept the bank papers, just in case, and the small purse of coins she held on her person.
It took forever to remove the trunks to the foyer, but as soon as the footmen unloaded the last, Edmund helped her into the carriage and they raced for the Old Bailey.
“Why has this indictment been conducted so early?” she demanded.
But her voice caught, and she struggled to draw breath. Beside her, Edmund shook his head. He gathered her close and simply held her, despite the bumpy ride through town.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
His words sent a cold wave of fear through her. Her stomach threatened to rebel, and her blood moved like ice through her veins. Something was wrong; this wasn’t how she’d come to understand the proceedings at the Old Bailey.
Someone moved against her father — but who? To be taken to indictment the following day? No, the accused were given days, often weeks, to sort their affairs and hire a barrister. She shook with nerves and fear, and felt his arms warm around her, but even his touch gave her little comfort.
“We’ll investigate when we get there.”
Selina nodded and held onto her lover even tighter. The carriage could not arrive soon enough.
Chapter Twelve
Despite the cold day outside, when Selina and Edmund entered the Old Bailey, a stifling wave of heat and close bodies made her stomach roil again. The room was packed, and Edmund had to push their way through the whispering crowd.
Their voices surrounded Selina like a cacophony of buzzing — whispers that the Earl of Granville arrived with the murderer’s daughter.
Edmund bent around her, protecting her from the whispers and stares, the aggressive bystanders who wanted a look. Even with her absolute fear for her father and the terrifying uncertainty of what lay ahead, Edmund’s shielding of her warmed Selina.
His body covered her, one hand on the small of her back, the other pushing people out of their way. They walked through a gauntlet but Edmund’s presence steadied her.
As soon as they arrived in the courtroom, she sought out her father. Arthur stood in the prisoner’s box, irons clasped around his wrists. His clothes were disheveled, but he had cleaned up well enough and stood impassive in the box.
The band tightening her chest eased at the sight of him, but she still clasped Edmund’s arm tightly and stood as close to him as the courtroom allowed. He miraculously found two seats and steered her to them.
Mrs. Ashworth stood in the witness stand and dabbed her eyes with a black mourning handkerchief.
“He often threatened my husband,” she said.
Selina stopped de
ad and turned to stare at the woman.
“Demean him in so many ways,” Mrs. Ashworth continued, her voice choked. “Nothing my husband did was ever good enough for Mr. Lyndell.”
“That’s not true!” The words left Selina before she realized they were there.
“Young lady, control yourself,” the wigged judge snapped.
Edmund pulled her toward the benches, but her gaze was only on her father. He looked to her and offered a very small smile and faint nod.
“It is true,” Mrs. Ashworth said haughtily.
“Arthur Lyndell was a tyrant at the office. The only respite my husband had was when he took journeys on one of their ships to find goods. Mr. Lyndell worked him like a slave. It was not right.” She shook her head and dabbed again at her eyes.
“It’s not right. I know that man murdered my husband.” Mrs. Ashworth pointed dramatically at Arthur, and Selina wanted to smack her hand away. “
Gritting her teeth, Selina clenched her hands into the skirts of her gown. “None of that is true,” she told Edmund quietly. “My father is a good, kind man. He treated Mr. Ashworth like a brother. How could she say such things?”
Edmund didn’t respond but merely took her hand and held her. He sat straight and stiff beside her, but his touch was reassuring — an anchor in the storm Selina found herself adrift in. She clung to him as if he knew the only way to guide her to a safe port.
“My lord.” The wigged and robed man stood and turned toward the judge. “This should be sufficient evidence to indict the criminal Arthur Lyndell.”
The mass of voices surged with the man’s words, their murmurings pushed against her. Selina took a deep breath of thick air and shuddered. Only Edmund’s hand on hers kept Selina seated.
Beside her, Edmund cursed. “That is not the barrister I sent for to represent your father.”
“They did not give us a chance to arrange for our defense,” she whispered back, her words rough. “What is this?”
His fingers tightened around hers. “This is merely an indictment. We’ll prove his innocence at trial.”
Her father’s barrister raised his voice over the whispers of the crowd. “A woman’s opinion should not be enough for indictment. Particularly that of a wife.”
Improper Match: Scandalous Encounters Page 10
