9781618858467ASinfulEducationPimentel

by Layna Pimentel

  “Avonlea, you bastard, you have two visitors. I will be back shortly. We would not want you conspiring anything, would we?” The mangy guard, who looked as if he had not had a bath in ten years and fallen into a tub of ale, disappeared into the darkness.

  A young ruffian and Wycliffe, of all people, stood before his cell. “Did the boy come with you, Wycliffe?”

  “He most certainly did not. But I get the impression he is here by someone else’s request.”

  The young man puffed out his chest and took off his cap. “My lord, my sister serves the young Lady Thompson and is seeking permission to see you. She also wishes you well and misses you terribly. She desires to dissolve the marriage pact, but they have her detained at the duke’s manor.”

  Christ. She really is there. He glared at Wycliffe, searching for a plan. “Young man, what is it that you go by?”

  “Gregory, my lord.”

  “She may not come here. No proper lady should ever enter such a place. Although, if you stay just a moment, Wycliffe may have use for you yet.”

  “What are you about, Avonlea?” Wycliffe asked, crouching down.

  “Have you already sent someone across?”

  “I have.”

  “How long do you suppose we have?”

  “One month.”

  “That is too long. We must act now. She is to be married in one month, and we need to be rid of him sooner. As it stands, no one will listen to me, and I have a sneaking suspicion they will move me to Newgate.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  The only thing that will have him hanging on the gallows. “You remember my hunting lodge, do you not?”

  “I do. We need to get her there.” Wycliffe turned to the boy. “And you are going to help us.”

  The boy nearly bounced. “My lord, a most excellent plan, too, as the women plan to go dress shopping. We can simply remove the duke’s driver, and I can steer the carriage where needed.”

  “The duke’s carriage would be too noticeable. We need something like a hackney coach or a farmer’s cart from the market.”

  “Both can be managed. I am sure the boy can arrange the switch, and I will ride with the lady to ensure her safety. What will you do about Nathaniel? Will you tell him?” Wycliffe asked Charles.

  “Not just yet. I do, however, need to talk to him about how delicate this situation has gotten. He has the connections to put someone on this case. There are far too many corrupted people involved, and I need someone who will not dismiss my evidence.”

  “I will see if I can convince him to visit you.”

  “Thank you. You are a good friend, and I owe you.”

  Now if only I could get out of jail, join with Emily, and travel to Scotland.

  Hours passed and the earl had not heard a word from the marquess. Nathaniel would not abandon me now, would he? Uncertainty flooded the pits of his belly, and for the first time in a long time, he was not so sure he would be able to get out of this situation.

  About to doze off, he heard the guard rake his baton along the cell door. “Wake up! You have company.”

  “I see you have made yourself quite comfortable, Lord Avonlea, though, it would be my suggestion not to get too familiar with these surroundings. I plan on having you transferred before weeks end. Newgate has room for one more traitor,” the chief prosecutor announced.

  Charles rose from the floor, dazed. “What in the devil are you speaking of? I am not a traitor!”

  “Of course you are. I have some evidence here—albeit doctored—that proves you were working with the French. Imagine how all of London will react when they learn of the news.”

  Words escaped him as he tried to think how, or why, they would produce false evidence. But then it dawned on him. If he were not so close to the truth, they would not have gone to such lengths to have him transferred.

  “Well, I must be going. I will be informing the magistrate of my discovery this evening. Do enjoy your short stay. I imagine these will be the most comfortable of living conditions until you are hanged.”

  The moment the door at the top of the stairs closed, Avonlea fell to his knees, burying his head into his palms. If Nathaniel did not come to his aid, he would never see her again. If only he could hold Emily just one last time.

  * * * *

  Emily paced her room to and fro. Each night since their arrival, the duke had not made good on his threat, and as each moment passed by, she was grateful. This morning, though, while her mother was busy making plans with the dressmaker for various parts of her new wardrobe, she would slip out the door. She would make her way down the cobblestone streets with her maid and find Avonlea.

  A gentle rap at her door alerted her. She stood as femininely as possible and stared like an eagle at who entered. Her maid slipped in and set some linen down on a nearby chair. “Thank goodness it is you. I was beginning to get worried.”

  “Worried. Why ever for, ma’am? The plan is in place. My brother and his friend will be waiting for us to slip away. I promise you, you will never have to worry about the duke again.”

  “You are positive our plan will work?”

  “Ours will, but let us only hope his lordship will be able to get out of jail in the meanwhile.”

  The young maid wrapped s shawl around Emily’s arms and led her down the hall. Each servant they passed smiled and winked at her. Good heavens, are all of them part of my grand escape? If they were caught, their employment would be terminated.

  Her mother, already seated in the carriage, glared at her and frowned. “I am not accustomed to arriving late to any engagement. While I understand you are displeased we have moved here much earlier than expected, I will still not have you embarrassing me. So get in, both of you.” She tapped the window with her walking stick. “Drive on, and make haste. I do hate being late.”

  Emily, her mother, and the maid sat there in silence for a half hour until the carriage stopped again in a crowded street. A footman opened the door and assisted the ladies out then escorted them into the shop.

  A tall, gray haired woman with her hair wrapped tightly into a bun approached her mother. The woman curtsied. “Lady Thompson, I see you have finally brought our future duchess. A pleasure to meet you, your grace.”

  “No need for such formality, ma’am. I am not wed, and the duke may yet come to his senses and desire not to marry me.”

  Her mother glared at her, but the old woman simply laughed. “Do not worry about a thing. I will take your measurements and show your mother a few designs, and then we will begin discussing your trousseau. There are impressive styles coming out of France right now, so I am sure with one of those daring negligees, his grace will be most pleased with your attempt to catch his interest.”

  “I trust both yours and Mama’s judgment. Where would you like to take my measurements?”

  “If you will follow me. It is just over here.” Emily followed the woman until she was hidden away behind a curtain while her maid and mother waited on the other side. “I have a great many designs we can select, but you have a figure the duke will find appealing and will accommodate my fashionable styles. Do you have a particular one in mind?”

  “Not really, ma’am.”

  “Well, worry not. We will put together the most extravagant thing the ton has ever seen, and you will be the envy of every bride this season.” The woman pulled, tugged, and then tossed her measuring tape off to the side. “You may get dressed now. Shall I have your maid come in?”

  “Yes, please.” The young woman entered while the seamstress wandered off deeper into the shop with her mother. Emily leaned in. “Are we set to go?”

  “Yes, ma’am. We should let them know we are looking around.”

  They meandered about the store until they found the older women hovering over several sketches and swatches of fabrics. “Mama, we are just going to look around.”

  “Very well, but do try to stay out of mischief.”

  “Of course, Mama.” Emily wat
ched and waited for the driver to become distracted so she could remain out of sight when she left the security of the store.

  Then her signal came. A boy tumbled across the street, sending a crate of merchandise flying toward the other side of the carriage. The man hopped out to assist the child.

  She reached for the door and glanced back at her maid, waving for her. “Come along. We must go, now.”

  “I cannot go with you. Otherwise, they will suspect I am up to something, too. Besides, if you are caught and brought back, who else do you think will attend to you?”

  “Very well, good luck. I hope Mama does not sack you after this stunt.”

  “I doubt it. There will be a cart down the road. Look for a boy sitting in the front with a newspaper cap. He will point you in the right direction.”

  “I cannot thank you enough.” Emily snuck out the front, trying to avoid rattling the doorbell. The last thing she desired was to be chased down the street. She lifted her hood and kept her head hung low, avoiding eye contact with even the pushiest of merchants.

  She found a cart at the corner matching the maid’s description. As she climbed in to talk with the boy, she was grabbed from behind. A heavy hand covered her mouth and kept her from shrieking in surprise. She kicked back, hoping to injure her assailant, but the brute pulled her away and carried her into another carriage. He tossed her in and when she had managed to collect her thoughts, the door had already been slammed shut.

  The man pounded on the window, and the buggy began to move away from the busy street and down an alley. “You needn’t worry about any harm coming to you. I am merely carrying out Avonlea’s wishes. Am I correct in assuming you are wanting to see him again?”

  Emily could not find the words, instead she nodded, frightened of what she had started. What has he done? Was this all meant to look as an abduction? Good heavens, this was quite the scandal. And since her family was not new to it, the ton would take great pleasure in dragging their names through the mud once again. Her brother would surely be furious, but perhaps this was for the best.

  Marrying the duke was no longer an option. And she would be fortunate enough if the earl would ask for her hand, or at least she hoped he would do the honorable thing at this point.

  “Madam, I promise you, the earl will join you as soon as he can. He has a private audience with your brother and another solicitor, who will seek his release at once. Things have become slightly complicated with the amount of corruption at the magistrate’s office. But, if I know Charles, you will be in his arms soon enough.” The well-dressed man bowed. “Lord Wycliffe at your service, my lady.”

  “Sir, you have yet to advise me on where we are going.”

  “I am taking you away from London, where you will be safe.”

  “But what of my brother? Will he know where I am?”

  “Absolutely not. Avonlea will let him know you are safe for the meanwhile, and he will return you to your brother just as soon as he has carried out his plans.”

  What plans? She was going to throttle him. All this mystery and for what? “Why will you not tell me where we are going?”

  “It is best you do not know.”

  Lord Wycliffe’s blue eyes noted sadness, but held a hint of mystery. There was something different about him, which made her suspicious. Yet, she was at his mercy. What harm is there in trusting a man who advises that my beloved and I will be reunited soon? “Can I ask you another question, sir?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Who are you? And can my brother and the Earl of Bridgeton really trust you?”

  “My lady, if you are worried I might scandalize you, then worry not. I prefer my women experienced. So you are safe. Besides, I would not do anything to comprise my friendship with Lord Avonlea. He has been a great friend during my times of need. You would do well to remember that.”

  Emily felt a newfound relief with the comfort in knowing Avonlea was coming for her. She was sure they had a future together, and once they had managed to steer away her mama and the duke, all would be well. Or so I hope.

  “Rest now, we will be arriving at our destination long after night fall. I will make sure you are safe.”

  Oh, to see him. I cannot wait to have him in my arms again.

  * * * *

  “Wake up, you blackguard!” the prison guard shouted down the hall. “T’would appear you a free man this pathetically dreary morning, Lord Avonlea. Consider yourself a fortunate man with friends such as the Marquess of Stoughton. I was rather looking forward to escorting your arse to the gates of Newgate.”

  Avonlea stretched his arms over his head and yawned, yelling back, “Whatever are you on about?”

  “You are a free man. Lord Thompson is up above, waiting for you. If you should ever find yourself here again, you will find a one-way passage to Newgate’s gallows.”

  Charles shook his head clear, wondering how his little dove had made away. He was sure Nathaniel would grill him once they were in solitude. But for as much as he admired his friend, he would not do anything that would attach the marquess’ name to his own scandal. He would resolve this situation once he was free from watching eyes.

  He climbed the slimy stairs of the jail to the much more modern section of the facility. He smelled the sweat off his own clothes, desperately needing a bath and shave. He would not even wear these clothes again. They would only remind him of the time spent in the cell below.

  “Welcome back to the light, my friend. Let us get you back to Stoughton Hall and cleaned up.”

  “I should think I would stop at home first.”

  “That will not be necessary. I had a messenger sent to have some of your things brought over. T’was the terms of your release. Consider yourself under house arrest, if you will.”

  The earl cringed at the thought. He had to get to Emily, and soon, if they were to head to Gretna Green and be back before her wedding. His plan was simple, but did not leave much room for error.

  “Very well, it is not as if I am left much choice.” He followed Nathaniel out the door and into his waiting carriage.

  The moment the cart began moving, Nathaniel folded his arms across his chest and scowled. “Have you heard, then?”

  “Heard what, Nathaniel? If you have not noticed, I have been in a cell for these last few days.”

  His expression turned hard and angry. “Emily has gone missing. Apparently, she disappeared while she was out with Mother yesterday.”

  “Perhaps she did not want to marry the duke after all?”

  “That was no longer her decision to make. She should have come to me. I would have found a way to stop the marriage. Running off will not break the contract. In fact, if she is caught, it will speed things up. The duke is furious and has already procured a special license. The moment she is found, they will be married the very next day.”

  T’was as if he had been punched in the gut. “So where do you think she went?”

  “I have no idea, man. My mother will not give us any peace. Poor Isabel has begun plotting her death.”

  Now there was a sight—the marchioness planning the spiteful bag’s death. She would have to write a play about it, in the end, so they could mock the demise of Lady Thompson.

  “What has you smiling, Charles? I tell you my sister is missing, and you are sitting there smirking.”

  “I was only thinking upon what you were saying about your lovely wife plotting your mother’s demise.”

  The scowl from Nathaniel’s face lifted. “What if I were to tell you I think you know where my sister is.”

  “And I would have to tell you I know nothing that I can share, yet. She is safe, Nathaniel. I swear it. And she would not have left if she did not have strong objections to the union.”

  His friend exhaled loudly, clearly not understanding the gravity of the situation. He would have to indulge her brother in his finding, but not until he had had a bath, proper food, and sleep. Until then, no one would know. Wycliffe was also out in the cou
ntry, keeping an eye on the estate until he could make it there himself, but he would wait to hear from him via messenger as planned.

  Soon enough, the lady would be his, and the duke would rot in Newgate in his stead.

  Chapter Nine

  “Wake up, Miss Thompson. We have finally arrived at our destination.”

  Emily rubbed her eyes to adjust to her surroundings. They were still in a carriage, although it had stopped. The door opened. Darkness had descended in the countryside. A chill seeped down into her bones. She shivered uncontrollably. “Lord Wycliffe, how far north are we? It s so bloody cold out here!”

  “We are really only a days worth of travel up the Great North Road. And I reckon it is far more frigid the farther north you go. Consider this a balmy climate, if it is your inclination. Nevertheless, let us get you inside and start a fire. There should already be some food and bedding ready for your stay.”

  Emily was still cross she did not have faintest idea of where she was being held. “Sir, you still have not mentioned where we are.”

  “We are at Lord Avonlea’s family hunting lodge. He will be joining you as soon as he has been released. From there, I do not wish to know what he has planned, but I am positive you will not be marrying that poor excuse for a duke.”

  Without waiting for a second reminder to get walking, Emily dashed past the earl and waited for him at the door. An elderly gentleman opened it and kindly smiled at her. “Welcome, ma’am. I hope you will enjoy Hastings Lodge as much as the earl’s family has over the last two centuries.”

  Ivy draped over a corner of the home, casting an eery shadow. Grand wooden doors welcomed visitors. “It is very large, sir.”

  “It is, and some say it is home to ghosts of centuries past. But I tend to think that after their passing, Avonlea’s ancestors loved it so much, they could not part with it. Of course, the spirits are kind. They are only old and noisy. Rickety as m’old bones. Come, come, I will make you some tea. You can warm up by the fire.”

  She glanced back to find Wycliffe leaning against the ancient oak door, smiling. “Horace, I would appreciate one as well.”