“He may be an idiot, but he hates me.” Prudence glanced away. “Or at least I think he does.”
Evan grew serious. “What do you mean?”
Prudence studied his face, his hardened jaw, his cold gray eyes, the angry slash of black eyebrows. Would he do something rash if she told him? Perhaps. But he had asked her to trust him, and she had asked for his trust in return.
“You were right about his…” She was about to say love, but it certainly wasn’t any variant of that emotion that drove her nemesis. “…desire for me.”
“What did he do? Did he hurt you?” Evan’s grip on her shoulder was almost painful, but reassuring at the same time.
“No, but he did offer to make me his mistress in return for dropping the charges.”
“I will kill him.” It wasn’t a vow, nor a promise, but a cold statement of fact.
Prudence reached through the bars to lay a hand against his cheek. “Evan, please, don’t do anything rash. I couldn’t bear…” Her words choked off into a sob.
Evan’s face softened. He ran a thumb across her cheek to brush away a line of fresh tears. “Did you miss me?”
“Simon told me you were dead.” Her voice caught on a sob. “How is it that this Black Jack, or whatever his name is, didn’t sink the Cythraul?”
“Oh, yes, I haven’t told you the rest, have I?” Evan’s grin of almost boyish delight returned. “Well, you hit on the answer. It’s all in a name.”
“Evan, please, I have no patience for riddles.”
“You have no patience for anything, my dear, but we’ll work on that in good time.” His look held a promise that left Prudence remembering their two nights together. “But Simon knew of Black Jack only by his reputation as one of the most fearsome, most courageous captains in the English Navy. No one can out sail the man.”
“Yet you did?”
“Nope. I let him catch me. In fact, I sailed right up to him.”
“But how is it that he didn’t turn his guns on you as soon as you drew within firing range? I wouldn’t think you’d even get close enough to wave a flag of parlay.”
“Because I know Black Jack. If there is one trait he has in even greater abundance than courage and skill, it’s curiosity. If he sees a small schooner sailing straight at him, with no other ships to back her up, he’s not going to fire. Why should he? Even if my schooner took a shot at him from close range, the odds were still in his favor. Perhaps with any other captain, I could use the speed of my ship to play a game of cat and mouse. Maybe even win. But not with him.”
“I don’t understand.” Prudence felt as if her head were spinning. “How is it that you know him so well?”
“Because I know Captain Black Jack Foster.”
It took Prudence a moment to understand what Evan had just said.
“Your father?”
“No, but the closet thing I had to one. When I ran away from the orphanage, he found me at the docks. Or rather I should say I found him. I had the audacity to try to pick his pocket when all else gave him a wide berth.
“He took one look at me and promised to let me keep the schilling I had just lifted from him if I worked for it aboard his ship. To this day, I’m not sure what he saw in that scrawny seven-year-old boy. Still, I’m glad he saw something.”
“Me too.” Prudence’s tears flowed in a steady stream down her cheeks now. “But our time is short. You have to get me out of here.”
“No. I can’t do that.”
“But why not?” Was he not going to rescue her? Had she misread the look in his eyes?
“Because I am not going to turn my wife into a fugitive and make her leave everything she loves.”
Not everything. She wouldn’t be leaving him.
“Is it the Ashcroft fortune? If it is, I don’t care about that. I can learn to live without the money. We’ll start anew.”
An unfathomable look crossed Evan’s features, and it made her stomach sink with despair.
“Prudence, I know what it’s like to be poor. You don’t.”
His lack of faith in her stung, but then, what had she ever done to show him that she was anything more than an overindulged heiress?
“That doesn’t mean I can’t learn to do without.” She grasped the iron bars and pulled her face close so he could see her earnestness. “Besides, with your skills as a captain, we can build up our fortune again. Maybe in the West Indies?”
“Your optimism is one of the things that makes you so dear to me, Prudence.” His crooked smiled seemed almost embarrassed. “I didn’t realize how dark and dreary my life had been until I came to Ashcroft. Going back to that life now would be like weighing anchor with little hope of seeing shore again.”
His sweet words were enough to be her undoing, but she pressed on. “It’s not optimism. It’s a statement of fact. We may have some hard times ahead of us, but I know we can do it.”
“You would take that kind of chance on me?” He reached through the bars to caress her cheek.
“Evan, I love you. I’m not sure when I started loving you, but I know it with a certainty that I cannot deny. I love you with all my heart—”
Prudence’s declaration was cut off as Evan drew her close and kissed her. The cold metal bit into her cheekbones, but she didn’t care.
“I’m not sure exactly when I fell in love with you either,” he whispered against her lips. “It might have been when I saw you riding off on Bolt, desperately trying to pull your skirts over those delightfully knobby knees of yours.”
“My knees aren’t knobby,” Prudence protested, half laughing, half sobbing.
He loved her?
“Or maybe it was from the moment I saw you lying unconscious next to that stream. I thought my heart would stop.”
“You didn’t seem too agitated to me.”
He really loved her?
“I think our fate was sealed the moment you snuggled up against my back and fell asleep.”
He really loved her.
“So why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew from the moment I met you, from the moment you got it in your head that I was the stable master, that no one tells you anything. You have to come to your own conclusions. I knew in time you would realize you loved me, too. I was just giving you time to get used to it.”
He kissed her through the bars again, a desperate, longing kiss that left them both a little breathless.
“Evan,” Prudence said, pulling back so she could focus on what she had to tell him. “Simon said the judge elevated the charges to treason.”
“Treason?” Evan’s expression darkened. “That little snake. He thought he could drive you into his bed.” Evan reached through the bars and ran a reassuring hand against her cheek. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. As far as Richard and I can tell, this is just a simple smuggling charge. We haven’t been able to determine what evidence Simon found, or claims to have found, but we’re still ready for the trial.”
“But, Evan, aren’t all the trials being tried in the Vice-Admiralty Court now? I mean they brought me all the way to Nova Scotia.”
If she were tried in the Vice-Admiralty Court, Evan and Richard might never have the opportunity to mount a defense on her behalf. Even if they did, the personal benefit the judge would receive from a guilty verdict stacked the odds against her.
Evan looked genuinely shocked. “Nova Scotia? Did he tell you that, too?”
Prudence nodded. “We rode for hours in his carriage, then he put me on a ship. I was locked in the hold for days.”
“I really will kill him,” Evan muttered. “You are in Providence.”
“But how can that be?”
Had she just imagined that it had been days? Had the ship been tied up at anchor most of the time? No, she knew what a ship under sail felt like. They had sailed somewhere. Had it been just around the islands in the bay?
“I have no doubt it was all part of his plan to make you desperate.” Evan cradled her cheek in his p
alm and brushed his thumb against her lips. “Dawn will break in less than an hour, and someone will be here for you soon. But I have a present for you before I go.”
Evan reached into the pocket of the guard’s jacket, withdrew a canvas bag, and handed it to her through the bars.
Prudence untied the drawstring and opened the bag. She reached in to pull out a loaf of bread so fresh it dented under her fingers. She held it against her nose, breathing in its scent as though it were the sweetest of blooms.
“Thank you.”
“There’s some cheese in there, too. I suppose you’re probably tired of bread and cheese by now, but I could hardly fit a ham in that satchel.”
Prudence gave a sputtering laugh. “No, this will do. How on earth did you know what I needed most?”
Evan gave a rueful glance around her stone prison. “Believe it or not, I’ve found myself on the other side of bars like these a time or two. I brought you some fresh water, too.” He handed her a leather bladder. “I just wish I had thought to bring you a blanket.”
“I can hide the satchel and the water bladder in my skirts so no one knows you were here. A blanket might be a bit more difficult to hide.”
Evan grinned in appreciation. “Are all Ashcroft women this smart? If so, our daughter has a bright future ahead of her.”
Prudence’s heart swelled almost painfully in her chest. She hadn’t thought she could love her husband any more than she already did. But with that one word, daughter, he told her he was willing to accept their future, whatever the Ashcroft fate might bring.
“By the way, there is one more thing I should tell you. I really didn’t marry you for your money.”
“I know that,” Prudence assured him.
“No, you only know the half of it. I didn’t need to marry for money because I have enough of my own. It may not be equal to the Ashcroft fortune, but even if you are forced to forfeit everything you own, we’ll have enough to live comfortably in Newport, the West Indies, or wherever we decide to go.”
Evan brushed her cheek with his knuckle. “I’d give you another kiss, but I think we’ve tempted fate enough already. I will see you in the morning, love.”
And with that, Prudence was alone in her cell once more.
She ate her bread and cheese slowly, savoring every bite. The cool spring water tasted almost as sweet as wine on her parched lips. She had to force herself to take small sips to make it last until the end of her meal.
When finished, she tucked the empty satchel and water bladder into the pockets she wore under her gown. Surely, if they were going to search her, they would have already done so.
Without Evan’s reassuring presence, old doubts resurfaced.
He had married her for love, not for her money, but they were still married. That meant his fortunes were tied to hers. If she had to forfeit her wealth, there was nothing to keep the magistrate from coming after him. Maybe he hadn’t understood the ramifications.
And since smuggling trials were no longer held in the civil courts, she would not be allowed a jury of sympathetic Colonists. With parliament’s seemingly endless appetite for tormenting the crown’s American subjects, smuggling cases were tried in the Vice-Admiralty Courts by judges who profited from the proceeds gained from forfeited property.
Despite whatever defense Richard and Evan had cooked up between them, there was little chance they would emerge from this with a penny to their name. She had no doubt she could adapt, but she hated to send him back to the poverty he had worked so hard to escape.
“Oh, Evan, I’m so sorry,” she whispered through the bars of her cell. “I hope love really can conquer all because our future is looking rather bleak right now.”
Prudence moved aside the congealed bowl of stew and sat on the rock to await the trial that might spell the beginnings of a true Ashcroft curse.
Chapter Thirty
Evan scanned the many faces in the packed courtroom. The gallery where the spectators stood wrapped around the edges of the room in a U-shape, broken only by the aisle that led from the double oak doors at the entry to the judge’s bench at the opposite end.
On the witness list, he and Richard had been given a spot along the railing at the front of the gallery and along the main aisle where they could be seen and heard easily. Spectators pushed against his backside as they jostled for the next best position from which to view the proceedings.
Evan picked out a few Ashcroft employees among the crowd plus one or two merchants to whom Richard had introduced him. The rest were strangers.
He tried to guess their motivations from the expressions on their faces. They ranged from the ebullient, almost festive, to the taciturn and even angry as they argued and debated with one another. It seemed to be such a mixed crowd. Had they come to support Prudence or to revel in her downfall? Evan couldn’t begin to guess.
He pulled a silver pocket watch from his waistcoat, flicked open the cover with his thumb, and glanced at the time. Nearly twelve minutes past the hour of ten, and still the attendants at the door were ushering spectators into the already overflowing gallery.
“Rather a lot of people here for such an insignificant trial, don’t you think?” Evan said, resisting the urge to lash out when a beefy man in a leather apron gave him an inadvertent elbow to the ribcage.
“Insignificant?” Richard scanned the crowd, nodding a greeting to one or two when he caught their eye. “Your wife may be the one on trial, but don’t think the Ashcroft family will be the only ones affected by the outcome. We may be in Providence, but it’s through Ashcroft that many of these people keep food on their tables,” he lowered his voice, “and rum in their bellies.”
Evan ignored Richard’s friendly, but almost condescending, know-it-all tone. He had earned the right. Ashcroft’s man of business had proven his worth a hundred times over as they searched for any shred of evidence Simon might have uncovered. The man had connections from the highest levels of the provincial government to the lowliest street urchins. In the end, they drew the same conclusion. The reptilian-like tax commissioner had built his case on hearsay and innuendo.
“A friendly crowd, then? That’s excellent.” From across the open space of the courtroom, a man Evan didn’t know nodded his head in greeting as if confirming Evan’s statement.
Richard tilted his head and clucked his tongue. “Well, I wouldn’t say all of them are friendly. There’s always the one or two odd souls that hold a grudge.”
As if on cue, Simon Manley strode through a side door to the left of the judge’s bench. Evan couldn’t decide which he found more obnoxious, Manley’s purple velvet coat and breeches or the smug expression he wore under his absurd little wig. The man must have spent a fortune on it, but it did little to complement his sallow complexion.
Ah well, a lizard can’t change his spots, or something like that, anyway.
As the accuser, Simon had been accorded one of two oak tables in front of the judge’s bench. Making his way toward his assigned position, he had to pass by the railing that held back the spectators. He glanced up as he passed. When he caught sight of Evan not a yard’s length away, he gave a startled hop.
So, you thought I was dead, did you? I am no ghost, I assure you.
As if he could hear Evan’s thoughts, Simon paled, looked toward his feet and hurried on to his assigned place in front of the judge’s bench. Once there, he laid the satchel he carried over his shoulder on the table, his hands visibly shaking.
Evan glanced around, expecting to see Simon’s solicitor join him. Simon remained alone at the polished table, pulling a stack of papers from the satchel. He spread them out, adjusting and readjusting them until, seemingly satisfied, he clasped his hands behind his back and stared straight ahead.
Apparently, Simon would be representing himself. What a fool.
Having had time to compose himself or perhaps emboldened by the twenty or so paces that now separated him from Evan, Simon turned, his thin lips curling into a smile that wo
uld have befitted a snake. Evan would have challenged the little man to a childish staring match, had the side door not opened once again.
A bailiff led Prudence past assembled spectators to take her place to the right of the judge’s bench, roughly ten paces or so from Simon’s position. She still wore the plain, gray muslin gown, but her face lacked the dark smudges from the last time Evan had seen her, and she had been given a simple but clean white cap. If Evan didn’t know better, he might have mistaken her for a Quaker.
A short, rather portly fellow joined her, and they soon had their heads bowed together in consultation.
“Is that Adams?” Richard asked.
“It is.” Evan studied his hired solicitor’s almost slovenly appearance. He wore a suit of drab brown that might have been homespun. Even from a distance, Evan could see the wear on the heels of his leather shoes. The buckles looked to be made of brass.
Nothing in the lawyer’s appearance inspired confidence, but then that hadn’t been why Evan had hired him.
“Not much to look at, is he?” Richard voiced Evan’s thoughts aloud. “Where did you find him?”
“Braintree,” Evan said. He didn’t mention the man had been tending his garden and had mud up to his elbows at the time.
“Hmmm.” Richard studied the solicitor. “A maritime lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“A successful maritime lawyer?” Richard clarified his question.
“Graduated from Harvard at the age of fifteen.” Evan decided not to add that Adams had been between cases when he found him. Evidently, although not yet thirty, the young Mr. Adams had built a reputation for being brilliant but a bit hard to stomach.
Obnoxious had been the description provided by one of Adams’ neighbors when Evan traveled up to Boston to fetch the man Rachel Ashcroft had told him to retain should he ever be in need of a lawyer. When the squeak of the garden gate announced Evan’s arrival, Adams glanced up from the stubborn weed he was pulling, giving Evan the dour look of a man twice his age. Evan had wondered, and not for the last time, what brilliance Rachel could possibly have seen in the stout little fellow.
Willing Love Page 27
