Regency Society Collection Part 2. Ann Lethbridge

proclaim your guilt like a man.’

      ‘I’ll see you in hell,’ Robert whispered.

      Lullington held his scented handkerchief beneath his nose, muffling his words. ‘I’m sure you will. But you will arrive first.’

      ‘What is he saying?’ the magistrate said, leaning forwards.

      ‘Think about it, Robert,’ Lullington murmured. ‘I’ll give you ’til morning to admit your guilt. If not, I’ll really unmask you.’ He used his forefinger and thumb to pull Robert’s mask over his head.

      Maggie stared at him. ‘Robert?’ she whispered in disbelief. Her eyes rolled up in her head and she collapsed in a heap beside the magistrate’s high red heels.

      One of the ladies near her, a dark-haired woman in a toga, bent to chafe her hand. Robert saw all of that from the corner of his eye, but it was Frederica’s reaction holding him captive and rigid.

      At the moment Maggie fainted, the pallor of her skin blanched to translucent white, as if every drop of blood in her veins had drained away, but instead of fainting or screaming, she backed away with an expression of terrible hurt.

      Even at this distance he felt her shock and horror. Revulsion oozed from her pores and made his skin feel slimy.

      He wanted to deny the theft, but Lullington’s threat held him silent. It really didn’t matter what she thought. He had far more pressing problems.

      She shook her head, stumbled over the crocodile’s stupid tail, then turned and fled up the stairs.

      He watched her disappear until someone tapped him on the shoulder. John, looking as sick as a horse. ‘I’ll take my grandmother home and come back later.’

      Robert nodded, feeling a little less isolated.

      Everyone else, except the triumphant-looking Lullington and the two footmen clenched on Robert’s arms, huddled over Maggie’s inert body, proffering smelling salts, vinaigrettes and fans. What a bloody farce. If his position weren’t quite so desperate, he might have laughed.

      ‘Take Lady Caldwell into the drawing room,’ Lady Radthorn directed. She raised her head and peered through her lorgnette at Robert. ‘Fine mess you are in, young man.’

      ‘Grandmama, please, let us go home,’ John said.

      ‘Throw that vermin in the cellar,’ the magistrate said. ‘We can’t have a fellow like him ruining our evening.’ He puffed out his chest. ‘I will get to the bottom of the matter in the morning.’

      ‘Ain’t got no cellar,’ Michael the footman said, looking blank.

      ‘The coal cellar,’ Wynchwood said, mopping his brow with a handkerchief. ‘Oh, my lord. I feel faint. My health cannot stand the shock. Where are the smelling salts?’ He staggered after Maggie’s entourage.

      ‘Did you really think by posing as a gamekeeper you could hide from me?’ Lullington murmured into Robert’s ear.

      Robert said nothing.

      ‘Pay your debt or it will either be the gallows,’ Lullington said with an infuriating smile, ‘or transportation.’

      A cold chill settled on Robert’s shoulders. In that case, he’d count himself lucky to be hanged.

      ‘The only question is,’ Lullington continued, ‘under which name do you want to be tried?’

      Lullington knew Robert would do anything to protect his family’s name—he could see it in the other man’s face. He knew Lullington had never liked him, but he’d never thought the man so vindictive as to accuse a man of a crime he didn’t commit and make it impossible for him to deny it.

      ‘You bastard. I’m working to get your money.’

      Lullington’s thin lips curled in a sneer. ‘I think I prefer this method of settling your debts, my friend. I shall enjoy telling my cousin.’

      Michael, the footmen and a man from the village swung Robert around, hustled him down the back stairs and in short order shoved him into the cellar. Lumps of coal rolled beneath his feet. Stumbling forwards, Robert slammed into the wall head first. Stars circled in front of his eyes. Thick dust choked his throat. Coughing, he struggled to remain upright.

      The door banged shut. A bolt slid home. The key turned in the lock.

      Damp chill seeped through his coat and into his skin. He waited for his vision to adjust to the dark. It didn’t. Not one crack of light penetrated his cell.

      The beating of his heart filled his ears, a slow steady thud. His ears rang from the blow to his head.

      What an idiot he was to have given Lullington such an easy opportunity. If he’d been thinking with his brain instead of what was in his trousers, he would never have risked coming here tonight. And for what?

      A woman who was betrothed to another man.

      Why would Robert steal from the guests of his employer? She felt as if the ground beneath her feet rocked and swayed to a rhythm she didn’t know. She’d thought him perfect, a down-to-earth man, honest and straightforward. She’d trusted him.

      It was her fault he’d gained entry to the ball. Her fault he had access to Lady Caldwell’s chamber. He never would have been tempted if she hadn’t allowed him come to her room. Unless he had planned it all along.

      Her heart clenched. She didn’t want to believe it. Men are ruled by their needs, she’d heard.

      Apparently their needs included priceless gems.

      And why had Lady Caldwell said his name and then fainted? Did she know him? She kneaded her temples.

      At first, he’d denied his guilt. He’d stared at her, willing her to believe him. Was it the truth? Or was he hoping the spell he’d spun would keep her entranced?

      If so, sadly he was right. She couldn’t bear the thought of him locked up in the coal cellar. She got up from the bed and paced to the window.

      Lady Caldwell had her jewels back, so no real harm had been done, had it? Perhaps she could convince her to let the matter drop.

      But first, she wanted to hear what Robert had to say. He owed her the truth.

       Chapter Nine

      Robert cursed and gripped the shovel hard between his knees and once more began grinding the ropes against the dull edge of the blade.

      He allowed himself a wry smile. The magistrate had done him a favour, putting him in a place he knew only too well. With a bit of luck, he’d be long gone before they came to fetch him in the morning. He huffed out a breath. His escape wouldn’t help prove his innocence. It would probably make matters worse, but without the evidence, namely Robert’s person, the viscount would be unable to prove the identity of the so-called thief. And John would deny it, Robert was sure, even if Maggie supported Lullington.

      What would it matter once he was gone? He’d lost any chance of a future here and this way, his family would never know for certain that the man arrested was him. They’d only have Lullington’s word.

      He sawed back and forth. The first strands of the rope gave way. He still half-expected Wynchwood to stomp down here accusing him of debauching his niece. Well, if it got her out of a marriage she didn’t want, good luck to her. Her cousin was an idiot. He wasn’t going to stay around to find out if she succeeded. The last thing he wanted was for his father to hear his son was not only a debaucher of innocents, but a thief to boot.

      He’d thought she was different from all those other women he’d known. That she liked him for himself, not what she could get from him.

      It didn’t matter. He was leaving. He would never see her again. Just as he’d planned.

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