by Amelia Grey
"I knew it. I tried to warn her. I tried to tell her they'd assume she kidnapped Bo. She thought all she had to do was tell her story and they'd believe her."
"What story? She has no story. She hasn't told them anything, other than her name. Chelly's been very clever, thank God, and hasn't talked about any of the rest of us. And, she didn't take the boy inside. That's in her favor. Someone discovered her with him outside the building and took them in."
"What?"
"It's true. They kept her awake, trying to tire her out and force her into a confession or into telling them something they could use against her; but she held on and only told them that she was trying to get the boy back to his mother. Which, thank God, is true. I plan to point out to the police that she'd have to be a total idiot to take a child she'd kidnapped so close to their headquarters."
"What did Avery want with you?"
"The usual. To know what she told me and what I said to her. We played a cat-and-mouse game for close to an hour. We were talking, but neither of us was really saying anything. He didn't want to show his hand, and I sure as hell wasn't about to tell him all that I know about this kidnapping. They'd put me in jail, too."
"And?"
"And what?"
"What did Chelly tell you?"
"Nothing, really. What could she tell me that I don't already know? Besides, even if she'd told me anything, it would be privileged information."
"Don't play that game with me."
"I don't intend to. I think you're trying to change this conversation from business to personal." Bradley stood up. "Marshal Avery told me they are holding Chelly for a possible kidnapping, but there's been no formal charge yet. I don't know if that is from lack of evidence or something else."
"What else could it be?"
"Not much of anything. I asked him why there had been no mention of any of this possible kidnapping in the papers, and he said they were keeping it quiet until they had all their information together; but I don't believe him. Something isn't right about this, and I haven't figured out what it is yet." He smiled. "But I will." He held up his hand. "And before you ask, yes I tried to get them to release her. They laughed in my face. They agreed I could get her some medication and that was all."
"God, I hope she's going to be all right," he murmured more to himself than to Bradley.
"I'm going to leave. I want to have some time to think about this; and I want to visit my son, who—I might add—you've only seen one time, before Winifred puts him to bed for the night."
"I'll be back around to see them," Austin promised. And he would, but first he had to get Chelly out of jail.
"For some reason they don't want this story leaked to the press. There's a reason and when I figure out what it is, I'll know what to do."
"I don't intend to wait around that long."
Bradley queried him with his eyes. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm going to the jail the first thing in the morning and tell Avery the truth."
"Don't be stupid. You can't tell them what you did."
"I have to. I can't let Chelly stay in jail for something I did when, if not for her, the boy would be with his father today. She did nothing wrong, everything right, and she's the one in jail. They should be thanking her, and I intend to tell them so."
"You can't even get out of bed by yourself."
Austin gritted his teeth. "I'll be better tomorrow. I've already been up once walking around and I'll do it a couple of more times during the night. By mid-morning I should be strong enough to make it down to police headquarters."
"You can't do that."
"Dammit, Bradley, I can't not do it. I wouldn't let anyone stay in jail for a crime they didn't commit and surely not the woman I love."
Bradley pursed his lips. "Love is it? Hmm—I should have thought as much. But to turn yourself in is suicide."
"I knew the risks when I decided to take that little boy to France."
"You're being too hasty," Bradley pleaded from the doorway. "Give me more time to work on this. If you go to the police, you'll be thrown in jail and in all likelihood Chelly won't be released. The authorities obviously can't prove Chelly kidnapped Bo, so we have a chance to get her out. If you confess, we have no chance."
What Bradley said made sense, but—"We don't have time. Chelly is sick. I have to get her out of that place. I'll send her to the country. Mama will take care of her for me. Now, before you go, help me up so I can walk around the room again. I've got to be able to walk tomorrow."
Chapter 19
It was mid-afternoon before Austin felt strong enough to make it down the stairs and out of the town house with Jubal's and Bradley's help. It hadn't been any easier getting in and out of the carriage that took them to the police building. He felt every bump in the road the carriage hit on the way downtown. Only now that he'd been sitting in Avery's office for the past few minutes had he started breathing a little easier.
Bradley worried him the way he paced in front of the window. Austin wished he'd sit down and stop mumbling to himself.
At last, the portly Avery opened the door and walked inside. "Mr. Radcliffe, I'm sorry you had to wa—Good Lord! What happened? You look awful." The older man's gaze darted from Austin to Bradley. "I can tell you we'll find whoever did this to you and see they're properly punished."
Austin gritted his teeth and rose to greet the officer. "That's not why I'm here," he told the man with the graying beard.
The police officer looked puzzled. "Ah—er—well, sit down and tell me what I can do for you."
He pursed his lips and pointed to the chair Austin had just occupied.
"No thank you. I'll stand." Austin realized he actually felt better when he was standing up straight. "I'm here about a young woman named Chelly Worthington."
Avery gasped and turned an angry face toward Bradley. "You told him about her. I said this case involving her was to remain an utmost secret." He clamped his teeth together sharply and glowered.
"He didn't have to tell me anything," Austin remarked. "I know why she's here. I'm the one who sent Bradley to talk to her."
The marshal walked behind his desk but didn't sit down. He remained standing like the other two men in the room. "We've been very careful concerning this case. What possible light can you shed on it?"
"I'm here to clear Chelly's name."
"Clear her name? I—I don't understand." His gaze darted again between the two men.
Avery was clearly confused as to why Austin, a well-respected businessman, would know anything about this dastardly deed. His facial expressions changed so rapidly they made him comical. Austin might have laughed if he hadn't been so worried about Chelly.
"I can assure you," Austin said, "Chelly Worthington had nothing to do with the kidnapping of Bo Bonaparte."
Again, surprise showed in the law officer's face. His mouth and his eyes rounded. "How did you know his name? We've not said one word about this to anyone." He turned to Bradley again. "You told him all this, didn't you? I'll have you arrested for-"
"I'm afraid I'll be the one you're arresting, Avery." Obviously the marshal wasn't listening to Austin.
"Austin, as your lawyer, I have to advise you one last time not to say anything about this," Bradley said, speaking up for the first time. "There has to be some other way out of this."
Austin's gaze remained focused on the marshal. "And I'll have to decline, again."
"What's going on here? I don't like being in the dark about this. If Mr. Thornhill didn't tell you about this case, I want to know who did."
"Bradley didn't have to tell me anything." Austin winced and grabbed his side when he moved too quickly. "I know all about the disappearance of Jerome Napoleon Bonaparte from the Patterson house on South Street. I probably know more about it than anyone."
"I have to advise you not to do this, Austin."
The pain in his side did little to help Austin hold onto his temper. "Keep quiet, Bradley."
&n
bsp; Stepping closer to him, Bradley said, "No, I won't hold my silence. Not only are you my client, you're my brother-in-law, too. I thought I could stay out of it and let you do what you must for this woman, but I can't. I won't let you do this to yourself."
The reddish-brown freckles on Bradley's face stood out against his white complexion. His agitated features enhanced the flushed coloring, but Austin ignored his pleadings. "You can't stop me."
"She's not worth it."
Austin grabbed the lapels of Bradley's coat. "The hell she's not."
"What's going on here?" Avery asked, scooting from behind his desk to stand before the two men.
"Is she worth spending the rest of your life in jail? Think about your mother."
"My mother's not in jail. Chelly is," Austin countered, letting go of Bradley's coat and turning toward the befuddled marshal.
Austin needed a moment to catch his breath. He wasn't strong enough for a fight. He walked over to the window and looked out to the busy street below. No, he didn't want to spend the rest of his life in jail, but that wasn't going to keep him from getting her out.
It was funny that Bradley should mention his mother. This whole thing started because Napoleon's youngest brother saved his mother's life. He'd felt indebted, honor-bound to return the favor no matter the personal cost to him or others, such as Bo's mother. He was glad the boy had been returned, and he wasn't sorry he'd done his best to fulfill his vow. He had done what was expected of him as a man of his word. Now, he must do that again. Chelly was innocent. He was guilty. Nothing else needed to be said.
It didn't surprise him that she hadn't breathed one word about his involvement in the kidnapping. He knew she wouldn't. She loved him, she'd admitted as much, but she didn't trust him. She thought he had no honor, and as hard as it was for him to accept, he now realized they had no future together.
Austin turned back to the two men staring at him. He zeroed his gaze in on Avery. "Chelly had nothing to do with the kidnapping. I only hired her to look after the boy. It was all my idea."
"For God's sake, Austin, confess if you must, but at least get it right." The red-faced Bradley turned to Avery. "The kidnapping wasn't his idea. This entire plot came from Jerome Bonaparte and some man named Le Camus." He quickly turned to Austin. "You only provided the ship, remember?"
"Ship? What ship? And how did you know about Le Camus? Wait. Wait a minute," Avery said. "I think somebody better start at the beginning of this story."
"I'll tell you everything you want to know, but Chelly has to be released first."
"I can't do that," Avery said without hesitation.
Austin tensed. "She had nothing to do with—"
"She had possession of a little boy who's been missing from his mother for over two months," Avery interrupted him.
Austin's breath became shallow, making his side hurt. "You can't let her go even if I swear to you she had nothing to do with the kidnapping?"
"No."
"What if I told you she kidnapped the boy from the kidnappers just so she could bring him back to his mother?"
"You can and should tell me everything you know about this case, but nothing you can say will make me release Miss Worthington at this time."
Avery was so firm in his conviction it scared the hell out of Austin. "She didn't do anything wrong! The boy's mother should be down on her knees kissing Chelly's feet for returning her son."
The marshal's lashes fluttered above his dark-brown eyes. "And the mother might well do that, but I don't intend to. You obviously know quite a bit about this case, and I intend to find out all you know."
"I won't talk until Chelly is free."
Avery hesitated, then walked over to the door of his office and opened it. "I can't let Miss Worthington go, and I'm going to have to arrest you." He looked out the door and yelled, "Guard!"
"Hellfire, I knew this was going to happen," Bradley muttered under his breath.
* * *
When Austin awoke the next morning, his side felt better. He felt more mobile and he could breathe much easier, but that hadn't kept him from spending an uncomfortable night in the jail cell. What had made the night doubly bad for him was knowing that Chelly had already spent several nights in the hellhole.
It was no wonder she was sick. The stone walls and windowless rooms held the dampness and cold inside. Austin had to find a way to make them listen to him. If telling the truth wouldn't get her out, his money would. It was the only thing left to do. He didn't care how many he had to bribe to get it done.
"Chelly." He whispered her name several times into the quiet of the dark cell. He was going crazy with worry, wanting to know if the medicine made her better. All night he'd thought about her. His arms ached to hold her. He wanted to comfort her and see to her needs.
Austin closed his eyes and remembered Chelly as she'd stood in his bedroom dressed in the long-sleeved nightgown with her hair flowing past her shoulders. He remembered her sweet scent and her outstretched arms beckoning, asking him to accept her, welcoming him into her embrace. He remembered the taste of her and longed to kiss her again. In his mind he lingered over each touch, each caress, and each sigh they'd shared. It had pleased him more and more each time he'd brought her to fulfillment.
But those thoughts would drive him crazy. He must remember that no matter how much he wanted Chelly, she didn't want him. She didn't trust him.
Austin grunted as he rose from the knotty pallet that served as a bed. He felt better standing up than lying on the straw mattress that did little to shield his rib cage from contact with the hard-packed earth floor.
As he paced the dark room, he grew angry with himself for allowing Chelly to become involved in this illegal mess.
Honor.
Jerome had put him in a no-win situation. He saw that now. What had been right for his honor and for Jerome had been wrong for Betsy and her son.
So many times, a thousand times, he wished he'd followed his first instinct that rainy night long ago and had not agreed Chelly could go with him on the journey to France. He'd realized then she was willing to fight for what she wanted, fight for what she believed in. But selfishly, he'd wanted her to accompany him. He'd been intrigued by her, enraptured by her, bewitched by her the first night he saw her, and that hadn't changed. It had only grown deeper, fuller, and brighter. And now, after teaching her how a man and woman please each other, after loving her, he didn't know how he was going to live without her.
Austin heard the key in the lock and turned toward the door. It swung open and Bradley walked in carrying a bundle of clothes.
"I thought you'd never return," Austin said, taking the clothes from him. "What took you so long? What have you been doing?"
"No, don't answer that," he interrupted before Bradley had the chance to respond. "It doesn't matter what you've been doing right now. Have you seen Chelly today? Is she better? Have you found a way to make them release her?"
"Austin, please, one question at a time. Right from the beginning I've told you this would be difficult. All I can report is that I'm working on it."
"That's not good enough," Austin, countered angrily, throwing the bundle of clothes to the straw mat in the corner.
"It has to be." Bradley kept his voice low.
"It!" Austin's voice rose even. "It what? What the hell are you working on, Bradley?"
"Trying to get Chelly and you released. If this had been handled properly in the first place, we wouldn't—"
"Save it, Bradley. I'm in no mood to hear it." He rubbed his forehead, and then slid his hand through his hair, trying to ease the building tension. He started pacing again. "I don't have to be reminded that this is my fault for agreeing to take the boy to his father in the first place. A man has a right to have his son with him," he said, knowing that didn't justify what he'd done or what had happened since, knowing he wasn't even sure he believed that anymore.
"No. No, he doesn't have the right if he is a foreigner and has to steal the chi
ld from the mother, whose father, I might add, is one of the wealthiest men in America," Bradley quipped sarcastically.
Austin tried to calm his breathing. "I know you're right," he said in an attempt at an apology. "I don't care what happens to me. I just want Chelly out of here and taken to my mother. She'll care for Chelly, help her get well." Austin stood close to Bradley and said in a low voice, "I don't care who you have to pay or how much. Get her out today."
Bradley shook his head. "That's not as easy to do as it is to say. And don't be so hard on yourself. Chelly has to take some responsibility for this predicament."
"No."
"Yes," Bradley insisted. "I could have arranged for the child to be delivered without anyone ever knowing Chelly or you were involved in this, if only she hadn't taken matters into her own hands."
"Yes, well, Chelly had reason not to trust me or you when I told her that."
"And on the same subject, there has been a bit of news that is of interest to us. Betsy Patterson Bonaparte and her son Bo were seen in public last night for the first time in over two months. They've both recovered from their long illnesses."
Austin was surprised at the relief he felt. He nodded. "Good. I'm glad to know Chelly accomplished what she set out to do and that Bo is back home with his mother." He couldn't keep the pride out of his voice. Chelly was a remarkable woman.
"It seems so, but—"
"But?"
He glanced over at Bradley. "But there's still nothing in the papers or on the streets about a kidnapping."
"Why?"
Bradley folded his hands across his chest and pondered. "If they were keeping the kidnapping quiet in hopes of somehow getting Bo back home safely, that's happened. Why weren't charges filed against the two of you the first thing this morning?"
Austin was beginning to see what Bradley was getting at. "Are you sure no charges have been filed?"
"Positive. I asked upon arriving here. You can't be charged with a kidnapping if they haven't reported the kidnapping existed."
Hope flared inside him, and the hair on the back of Austin's neck stood out. "So what's going on? Why are they still holding us without charging us?"
