My Lady Vixen

by Connie Mason

  “Why would I lie, milady? Believe what you will but rumor has it he’s already courting his next wife.”

  “Lady Gwen,” breathed Alexa as pain shuddered through her.

  “Aye, you have the name right, milady,” grinned Bates maliciously. “But you need only say the word and old Bates will comfort you in your last hours.”

  “Go away!” shouted Alexa, covering her ears to drown out his hateful words. When she dared to look again Bates was gone.

  Flinging herself on the cot. Alexa gave vent to her pain and misery. Could it be true? she asked herself with fearful clarity. The picture of Adam and Gwen together numbed her brain. What could Adam be thinking? Had he bothered to check the prisoner assumed to be Fox he would surely know that it was Mac being held and not the infamous privateer. Was it fear of losing his Tory friends that caused him to abandon her, the wife he professed to love? Alexa understood none of it. What was Adam up to? Did he intend to sit back and let her hang because of her loyalty to her newly adopted country? Was he so shallow as to allow such a travesty of justice rather than defend his own wife? Or his best friend? Confusion reigned as Alexa’s mind reeled beneath the weight of her thoughts.

  Somehow, life continued. Nearly a month had elapsed since Alexa had been seized and imprisoned. Each day she begged to be allowed an audience with either Governor Wright or General Prevost—and each day her request was denied. Since the surprise visit by Charles, no one had been allowed near her. For what reason she could not divine.

  Then one day the long promised event she had been dreading for weeks came to pass. Grubbs arrived early with her usual basin of water, informing her that she was finally being brought to trial. She was to appear that very afternoon. “The Fox was tried yesterday and promptly sentenced to hang.” Grubbs announced gleefully. “No doubt you’ll both hang, side by side.”

  Alexa rejoiced to learn that Mac still lived but was saddened by the cruel blow fate had dealt them. Abruptly she wondered if Adam would attend her trial, and hoped he would not. She had no wish to see him ever again. At that moment the only emotion she could spare her husband was hatred.

  Alexa washed carefully and brushed her long black hair until it glowed like buffed glass as it caressed her slim hips. Looking in the small mirror Mary had thoughtfully provided she saw a small pale oval staring back at her. Her smudged violet eyes seemed too large for her face and her skin had a translucent quality bordering on fragility. Her wan appearance startled her for she had never been particularly sickly or fragile. Weeks in a damp, sunless environment had greatly undermined her health and Alexa had never been more aware of it as she searched her mirror for a hint of the beauty that had once been hers.

  It was the odious Captain Barrington who came for her a few hours later, looking down his long nose at her bedraggled appearance. Though her body was clean her dress was dirty and stained from weeks of wear. The weather was uncomfortably warm but Alexa threw her badly worn cloak over her shoulders, hoping to conceal her disreputable state of dress.

  “Your day of reckoning has finally arrived, Lady Foxworth,” Barrington sneered disparagingly. “I must say you look nothing like the beautiful woman who entered this cell a few short weeks ago.”

  “How can I when I was allowed not one single consideration or amenity?” Alexa replied scathingly. “I was treated worse than an animal.”

  “Tell the Governor, or General Prevost, when you see them,” shrugged Barrington, unconcerned. “Move along,” he prodded, hurrying her from the cell in a manner that was anything but gentlemanly.

  Alexa blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the light. Immediately she was hustled into a closed carriage which took off with a jolt before she had a chance to settle herself. Beside her Captain Barrington took out a spotless handkerchief and mopped his brow. Never would he become accustomed to the abominable Savannah heat.

  During their short ride from the Governor’s mansion to the building where Alexa’s trial was to be held, Barrington regaled her with news of the war. It seemed that General Henry Hamilton, the British commander at Detroit, had captured Vincennes in Illinois. What Barrington did not know was that Vincennes was even now under attack by George Rogers Clark in a successful bid to recapture the British post. This expedition did much to free the frontier from Indian raids and gave the Americans a hold upon the northwest. All this Barrington was to learn later in dispatches sent to General Prevost and delayed by the capture of the courier.

  All too soon they reached the rather austere building that served as a courthouse and Alexa drew back, stunned to see the crowds of people waiting outside for her appearance, or so she assumed. The moment she stepped from the carriage Alexa knew a moment of sheer fright as her assumption proved correct. At her appearance the crowd turned ugly, hurling insults at her from every direction. If there was anyone who sympathized with her cause, they wisely kept their feelings to themselves lest they face the same fate as Alexa.

  “Traitor!” Shouts came from the crowd as bodies closed in upon her. “Hang the traitorous bitch!” It was a nightmare, and Alexa, weak from her long weeks of confinement and inactivity, felt herself drowning in a sea of hostility. She wanted to crawl into a hole, to faint, to disappear, if it were possible. Anything to escape the revilement heaped upon her by the jostling, angry crowd of Tories.

  One thing only saved Alexa from making a fool of herself by fainting at the feet of her tormentors. Adam! Across the sea of anonymous faces, one countenance stood out amidst the others. A handsome, arrogant face whose gunmetal eyes pierced her like knives aimed at her heart. Alexa’s first thought was that except for the subtle lines of tension etching his features, he looked the same.

  Grief tore at her vitals the moment she saw Lady Gwen beside him, clutching possessively at his arm, and hatred rose like bile in her throat, bitter and choking. Alexa felt blackness begin to claim her and summoned all the strength her meager body possessed to subdue it. Never would she give Adam and Gwen the satisfaction of knowing that seeing them together hurt her beyond measure. Her lower lips jutting in angry defiance, jaw set determinedly. Alexa gulped back her nausea as she surmounted the darkness threatening to devour her and moved through the crowd, one step at a time.

  In her heart she accepted the inevitable without question. Adam had indeed abandoned her and she was left alone to face an ignominious end.

  12

  His arrogant features purposely set in harsh lines, Adam nearly dropped his stony facade when he saw Alexa stumble, then right herself the moment she spotted him in the crowd. She looked thin and wan, the tender skin beneath her huge purple eyes bruised with dark shadows. How she must hate me, he thought, nearly rushing to her defense despite his firm resolve to pretend indifference to her plight. But the pressure Lady Gwen applied to his arm brought him back to his senses and he was able to watch with outward calm as Alexa, mustering the courage he knew her capable of, squared her small shoulders and passed through the angry crowd with her dignity intact.

  It was bad enough. Adam reflected glumly, watching Mac’s trial and subsequent death sentence without batting an eyelash. Especially in view of the fact that he was called upon to testify. Deliberately lying under oath. Adam swore that it was entirely possible for Mac to be the Fox. He further explained that he seldom saw his friend or was privy to his personal life. Through it all Mac sat apparently unmoved by Adam’s testimony. His grave wounds were beginning to heal but Mac was still too weak to walk into the courtroom. It was obvious to Adam that his friend hadn’t received the proper care he needed in order to speed his recovery. And judging from the look of Alexa’s pale face she had been treated no better.

  Once inside the large room the crowd did not diminish as people surged in behind Alexa, jostling for a good seat from which to view the proceedings. Alexa’s trial promised to be even more spectacular than Fox’s for the simple reason that Alexa was a beautiful woman as well as one accused of treason. Then, too, the previous trial for Fox proved a great disappoi
ntment to the Tories. There was nothing romantic or flamboyant about the thin, weak shell of a man carried into the courtroom on a litter. Truth to tell, the entire proceedings proved a gigantic farce.

  Therefore, the whole of Savannah looked forward with great relish to Alexa’s trial, especially since it was learned that her husband, Lord Penwell, was finally returned from a secret mission and had verbally condemned her actions, refusing to come to her aid or even to see her. As if to verify gossip, Adam immediately began seeing Lady Gwen, whom everyone knew had been very close to being Lady Penwell, until Lady Alexa came out of nowhere to claim that title. When Alexa grew large with child in a disgustingly short time the reason for their hasty marriage became common knowledge. Some went so far as to say the little slut received no more than she deserved.

  From one of their own brave men. Captain Charles Whitlaw, came the indisputable information that Lady Alexa had been disowned by her illustrious father, Sir John Ashley: that the lady had done something so despicable that the very sight of her sickened the poor man. And who should know better than Charles who revealed he was engaged to the notorious Lady Alexa at one time. Disgusted by her conduct, he had broken his engagement and married a woman worthy of his good name.

  All this Adam heard in a roundabout way from Gwen, refusing to comment, only nodding sagely. He truly wished he could go to Alexa, to offer comfort, but under the circumstances he was forced to cool his heels until the time was ripe, meanwhile feigning indignation at his wife’s activities as well as disinterest in her fate.

  From Lance Barrington Adam learned where Alexa was being imprisoned and that she was being well-treated and in no immediate need. But seeing Alexa now, Adam realized that Barrington had greatly distorted the truth. God only knows what his lovely wife was forced to endure those weeks she spent in the dungeon-like cell below the Governor’s mansion.

  It had been less than a week since Adam’s return from his prolonged mission for General Prevost and he had not known about Mac or Alexa before then. He returned just in time to attend Mac’s trial and was told all the grisly details by General Prevost. Circumstances beyond his control forced Adam to renounce his wife and reaffirm his loyalty to the crown despite his wife’s avowed sympathy for the colonists. Governor Wright took Adam at his word and immediately offered him a place to stay until the trials were concluded; an offer Adam gratefully accepted although it placed him conveniently in reach of Gwen’s waiting arms.

  It was only natural that he should squire Gwen about while he awaited the trials. Certainly he could not be blamed if Gwen made too much of his attentions. He deliberately chose to play at Gwen’s game for it suited his purpose. Adam knew that Gwen assumed they had a future together once Alexa was conveniently done away with.

  Alexa sat in a chair facing her jury, her spine rigid, her head held high. Only Adam, sensitive to her every mood, noticed the slight trembling of her chin. Her stern-faced judges were before her, seated at a long table. General Prevost held the center position. Ranged on either side of him were Governor Wright. Lance Barrington. Charles Whitlaw and two other officers she did not know. Alexa’s heart plummeted. She hadn’t one chance in a thousand of escaping with her life and she well knew it. In her mind’s eyes she saw herself mounting the scaffold beside Mac.

  Suddenly the room quieted as General Prevost cleared his throat and glared down at Alexa. “Lady Foxworth, you are brought to trial today to answer to charges of treason. What say you, guilty or not guilty?”

  “Not guilty, General,” Alexa proclaimed in a low but clear voice. “I have done nothing that can be construed as treasonous but perhaps speak out of turn.”

  “You are charged with lending aid and succor to a known criminal with a price on his head. The Fox was apprehended in your home while you stoutly defended him,” the General accused.

  “Mac is not the Fox. You have tried and condemned the wrong man.”

  A humorous snicker rippled through the room and grew into a wave of laughter. “So you say,” sighed the General dryly. “It would save us all a lot of trouble, milady, if you would confess.”

  “I confess to nothing,” persisted Alexa doggedly. “Mac is not the Fox. Ask my husband. He can attest to the truth of my words.”

  “We intend to, milady, if you force us to continue, and I can see you are determined to have your name besmirched in court.”

  “I have faith that all will be explained to your satisfaction and I will be judged innocent,” declared Alexa with more conviction than she felt. Everyone, including herself, knew she was being made an example of and likely to hang beside the man wrongly assumed to be the Fox.

  “Have it your way, Lady Foxworth,” the General signalled wearily. “I will now call upon Captain Barrington to tell how he and his men followed Fox’s bloody trail to your house.”

  Captain Barrington told his story convincingly of how he saw the Fox go overboard after he was wounded in the fierce fighting aboard The Gray Ghost. Following in a longboat, the search party spent hours trailing the wounded man to the Foxworth plantation.

  “What did you find when you arrived and demanded entrance?” asked the General.

  “At first Lady Foxworth refused to let us in, insisting she knew nothing about the Fox.”

  “Did you believe her?”

  “No, sir,” smiled Barrington wryly. “Not when I was standing in a pool of blood that proclaimed her guilt more clearly than words.”

  Barrington went on to describe how he found a wounded man in a bedroom and the mask worn by Fox in a trunk in the attic. When he finished he glanced triumphantly at Alexa and sat down with a flourish. Adam cursed beneath his breath, frowning darkly.

  “What is your response. Lady Foxworth?” General Prevost inquired.

  “General, you have to believe me,” Alexa insisted urgently. “The man Captain Barrington found in my house is not the Fox. His name is Logan MacHugh, a friend to my husband.”

  “How do you explain his wound?”

  Alexa flushed. He certainly had her there. Mac was still a privateer even though he was not the Fox. “I … I didn’t ask,” she supplied lamely.

  “You didn’t ask, I see,” mocked the General, throwing up his arms in disgust. The room buzzed with amused laughter until the General raised his hand for silence.

  “And the mask found hidden in the attic? Perhaps next you’ll tell me it belongs to Lord Penwell and that he is the Fox.” Raucous laughter met the General’s well-placed jest and Alexa glanced quickly at Adam but he steadfastly refused to meet her eyes.

  “I have no idea how that mask found its way into the attic. Perhaps it was meant for a masquerade,” suggested Alexa amid hoots of amusement. “And I would be the last person on earth to accuse my husband, Lord Penwell, of being the Fox, for no one knows better than I that he is not.” Adam exhaled softly, unaware that he had been holding his breath.

  “You are correct, Lady Foxworth, we have already tried and convicted the Fox and he certainly isn’t Lord Penwell.”

  After that Charles was asked to testify as to her character, since he was the person present who had known her the longest. As Alexa had expected, Charles painted a bleak picture indeed of her tarnished reputation. Alexa flinched when Charles launched headlong into the details of how she became Adam’s mistress in England, conveniently omitting the important fact that Alexa had not done so willingly. What Charles did stress was that he and Alexa were to be married when she succumbed to Lord Penwell’s persuasive charm and was subsequently disowned by her father when Adam tired of her and returned her to her father pregnant.

  Shock and disbelief registered on the faces of those present, but surprisingly none of it was directed at Adam. When asked to respond to Charles’s charges. Alexa bit her lip and shook her head, declining. What could she say that was not already said? At any moment she expected Adam to jump up to defend her honor but to her acute embarrassment he remained seated, seemingly unmoved. Rage and hate combined to lend her courage when she he
ard General Prevost call Adam to testify next.

  “Lord Penwell.” General Prevost asked, “were you aware of your wife’s seditious sentiment when you married her?”

  Turning to face Alexa. Adam’s silver-gray eyes bore relentlessly into her violet ones. To many of the spectators they appeared to, reflect his contempt for his wife. But to Alexa they told another story. Was he trying to convey to her that she should take courage? That he had not abandoned her no matter how it might appear? But his cold words and stern visage soon disabused her of that notion.

  “Though reluctantly, I must admit, General, that my wife championed the American cause many times in my hearing,” Adam said slowly.

  Alexa gasped, and whispered softly, “Oh, Adam, how could you?”

  Adam turned a deaf ear on her softly spoken words as he continued with cruel deliberation. “As you are well aware, I was necessarily gone from my home for long periods of time and had little or no knowledge of what went on in my absence.”

  “We heard your testimony. Lord Penwell, as to your relationship to the man you knew as Mac but who in reality is the Fox. Do you believe Lady Foxworth had an … er … intimate involvement with the Fox?”

  Fixing Alexa with an inscrutable look, Adam replied. “I believe the Fox to be in love with my wife.”

  Upon hearing Adam’s damning words, Alexa’s frail shoulders slumped dejectedly. Once again Adam was struck by the fragility of her slim form. He knew her to be near the end of her tether and he dropped his eyes to conceal the extent of the pain he felt at her ordeal. Hang on, Alexa, he silently encouraged. Don’t give up now. There’s too much to lose.

  As if receiving his telepathic message, Alexa straightened her spine, glaring defiantly at the avid spectators and her judges so eager to condemn her. “You may sit down, my lord,” the General told Adam. “I know how painful this must be for you but your own loyalty was never suspect.”