Of Noble Birth (40 page)

“Don’t worry about that
now.” Mrs. Wright waved her away. “You’d best hurry
along.”

Alexandra grabbed her
shawl and headed out the door. At least her eagerness to escape the
house was a reality. She fumbled in the pouch tied beneath her
dress for the coin she would need to hire a cab, then ran around
front. Woolwich was much too far to walk.

* * *

It took Alexandra well
over an hour to get to Woolwich, and her palms sweated the entire
way.

When she saw the outline
of the prison barges in the distance, her breath caught in her
throat. Could she do this? She had heard awful things about the
hulks, but she had to know if Nathaniel was there or
not.

The cab finally stopped
near the royal arsenal, and Alexandra bade the driver to wait. She
would only be a minute, just long enough to catch a glimpse of
him.

It was a hot, dreary day,
the onset of summer. Alexandra left her shawl in the carriage
before descending.

A quick glance at the
darkening sky told her a storm was on its way. She’d spent most of
her time indoors and had all but missed spring. Now she felt
deprived. The summer months were hot and miserable. And they had to
be doubly so for the inmates, she thought, watching a gang of men
stacking shot.

Unmistakably prisoners,
they were sixteen to a group with a club-carrying guard to keep
them in line. Most were shackled; those who were not seemed too
weak to move, let alone work, but work they did.

Alexandra scanned the
group, trying to see the face of each convict. Six prisoners were
being led through the throng toward the water, evidently heading
back to the ships, but Nathaniel was not among them.

She turned her gaze to
those who were stacking shot.
Please, just
let me know where he is and that he’s alive,
she prayed, her eyes frantically searching among the filthy,
emaciated bodies.

When Alexandra finally saw
Nathaniel, she wondered how she had ever missed him. He stood,
working with the others, not more than thirty feet away. Dirt and
sweat streaked his face. He wore rags like the other prisoners, but
his arm gave him away—that, and an undeniably confident
air.

Nathaniel seemed to feel
her stare, as if it were something physical that spanned the
distance between them. He paused from his work and rose to his full
height, gazing back at her as though she were some sort of
vision.

Alexandra gasped, and her
nails curled into her palms. She wanted to acknowledge him in some
way, but the ache in her heart made it difficult to
move.

She forced her hand open
to wave. “Nathaniel,” she whispered as her throat constricted with
unshed tears.

Nathaniel’s face looked
hewn from stone. He did not react, but Alexandra was positive that
he recognized her.

Then a guard appeared next
to him. “Ogling the ladies, are we, cripple? Get back to
work.”

Nathaniel glared at the
guard, then looked back at Alexandra. She could almost see the
clarity of his blue eyes—until the guard struck him with a large,
ponderous stick.

“I said, back to work,”
the guard shouted, hitting him again.

“No!” Alexandra cried,
clinging to the fence. “Please, let him be!”

The blows continued as
another guard approached her. “Miss! Miss! Who are you, miss?” he
asked, and Alexandra knew she had to get away from the pitiful
scene before she caused Nathaniel any more harm.

Turning, she stumbled
blindly toward the carriage, tears streaming down her face. She
tripped on her hem and fell once, then scrambled to her feet,
biting her lip to hold back the sobs that racked her frame. Finally
she climbed inside the waiting conveyance, and the driver pulled
away.

Something snapped inside
Nathaniel as Alexandra disappeared from the wharf. He had bided his
time and paced himself for ultimate endurance, but the sight of her
horrified expression broke the tenuous grip he had on his patience.
He exploded with a ferocity that stunned the guard who beat him.
Wrapping his arm around the stick, he jerked it away in one fluid
motion that left those around him gaping in surprise. Then he used
it to knock the guard to the ground.

The chaos that erupted
after that seemed to last forever, but Nathaniel knew it could have
been no more than a few seconds. He fought with the energy of a
wild man while the shouts and cries of the other prisoners and
guards rang in his ears. Some of the prisoners took his lead and
began to fight as well, while others cowered in fright.

Ultimately the prisoners
didn’t have a chance. Nathaniel had known it before he landed his
first blow. The chains were too much of a hindrance, the clubs too
devastating with so many guards to wield them.

After some initial fear
and confusion, the guards rallied with a vengeance. Nathaniel felt
the pain of their attack, but he didn’t care. He kept going when
most men would have stopped. Nothing mattered except his need to
fight back, to answer their cruelty. But he knew he would pay. Even
as the blow that knocked him senseless landed on the back of his
head, he knew.

* * *

Alexandra had the cab
driver drop her at the end of Berkeley Street. She wasn’t quite
ready to face Mrs. Wright and the others. She was still shaking
despite the long ride back, and needed a few minutes more to
compose herself after the horrifying sight of watching Nathaniel
being beaten like a dog.

She had to let Trenton
know. The duke had misled him, had sent him off to Liverpool when
Nathaniel was right here all the time, in London. Worse was the
thought that Trenton might not be able to help Nathaniel. How could
they, or anyone else, get him out of that terrible
place?

Perhaps she should head to
Liverpool in search of Trenton, she thought, anxious to do
something. But she instantly knew the folly of that idea. How would
they find each other? Besides, her sudden disappearance would
arouse the duke’s suspicion, and until they had Nathaniel safely
away from the hulks, she didn’t dare provoke Greystone.

If they
could
get him safely
away...

The wrought iron gate of
Greystone House loomed before her, and Alexandra took a deep
breath. She didn’t want to go back, but she had to face the other
servants and Lord Clifton and the duke and pretend she mourned for
an ill mother. Otherwise, Trenton wouldn’t know where to find her.
For caution’s sake, she knew he couldn’t return to the inn where he
had stayed before.

“Where have you
been?”

Alexandra jumped as the
marquess stepped out from beneath an elm tree. “You frightened me,”
she said, pressing a hand to her chest as if she could stop the
racing of her heart.

“You haven’t answered my
question. Where have you been?”

“If you needed me, you had
only to ask Mrs. Wright, and she would have sent another maid.”
Alexandra kept her voice calm, trying not to reveal how much his
attitude irritated her.

“Mrs. Wright said you went
to see your ailing mother. You told me when we were with Nathaniel
that you have no family.”

Alexandra’s knees went
weak as her mind groped for something that Lord Clifton might
believe. “Actually, I—I wanted to show the earrings you gave me to
a friend,” she said.

The marquess smiled,
making Alexandra grateful that his vanity was sufficient for him to
accept the lie. “Of course. Do you like them?” He took her hand and
drew her back under the tree with him.

“Not every maid receives
such a gift from the son of a duke,” she said, playing her
part.

“You’re not every maid.
I’ve never seen another so lovely.” Taking her by the chin, Clifton
tilted Alexandra’s head back so he could kiss her. She knew what
was coming, and for Nathaniel’s sake, she steeled her nerves to
accept it. But when the marquess’s ardor mounted and his hand moved
down over her hips, she pulled away.

“Perhaps I misunderstood,”
she said. “I thought the earrings were a gift, not a form of
payment.” And she ran back inside the house.

* * *

Alexandra sat in
Greystone’s study, her ears trained for the slightest sound. It was
late in the night. The grandfather clock down the hall chimed the
hour of three as she hurried to finish.

Dipping the duke’s quill
back into his ink pot, she signed her name, then quickly read over
her letter. She had no idea if Nathaniel would ever receive it, but
word from her was the only thing she could give him at the
moment.

The milkman came before
dawn every morning and left a can of milk by the back door.
Alexandra met him outside today, her letter in hand.

She stepped from the
shadows as Mr. Donaldson pulled his wagon to a stop. He got down,
and with work-roughened hands lugged a huge can of milk to the
ground, its thump as familiar as the rooster’s crow in the morning.
Then he turned to Alexandra and silently accepted the letter. She
pressed a few shillings in his palm besides, and he nodded his head
in acknowledgment.

Alexandra started back
through the door, but he caught her by the elbow. She watched as he
reached into his other pocket and withdrew a wrinkled piece of
paper that had been folded several times.

She smiled her thanks and
waited until he left to read Trenton’s words:

Alexandra,

Nathaniel must not be in
Liverpool. I would think perhaps he was transferred to Newgate, but
I can find no record of it. I’m back in London now and hope you
have better news. Meet me beyond the stables at midnight Wednesday
next.

Trenton

Tucking his letter into
the folds of her skirt, Alexandra hurried inside lest the new
tweenie, who rose earlier than everyone else, find her. Wednesday
next, Trenton had said. Why, tomorrow was Wednesday.

Tomorrow night,
then,
she thought, and prayed the hope of
Trenton’s impending visit would be enough to block from her mind
the recurring vision of Nathaniel being struck by the
guard.

* * *

The following night
Alexandra sat in the kitchen, sewing. She had volunteered to make
fresh aprons for some of the maids. Servants bore the cost of their
own uniforms, and their low salaries often made such purchases a
hardship, so she had agreed to do the work for free. Mrs. Wright
was grateful for her help, and it gave Alexandra something to
occupy her mind and to calm her nerves while she waited for
Trenton.

“You’ve put in a long day,
lass. Why don’t you go off to bed?” Mrs. Wright asked as she
carried jars of fresh preserves to the pantry.

“I’ll go up soon. I’m not
tired yet.” In truth, Alexandra was exhausted, but she didn’t dare
lie down for fear she’d fall asleep and miss Trenton.

“You’re a hard worker. I’m
glad Lady Anne knew enough to hire you, though your story had me
worried at first.”

The housekeeper
disappeared into the pantry and returned for another load. “You
wouldn’t mind retrieving the tray I took up to His Grace in the
study, would you? He’s up late tonight.”

Alexandra hesitated,
wishing she could beg off. She avoided the duke at every turn,
afraid her hatred of him would be too difficult to hide. She also
feared his discovery of the broken lock on his metal box, knowing
her connection to Nathaniel could easily make him suspicious of
her. But Alexandra could think of no good excuse to avoid the task
Mrs. Wright requested.

“Is Lord Clifton with his
father?” She hoped the answer would be no. She’d made several
attempts to return the marquess’s earrings, but he had refused them
outright. And instead of losing interest in her as she hoped he
would, he seemed to be more and more obsessed with winning her
affection, or at least her acquiescence.

Mrs. Wright headed back
for another load. “I’m not sure.”

Alexandra set her work on
the table and left the kitchen to climb the back stairs. The other
servants were asleep in their quarters, so she ran into no one on
her way. Much to her chagrin, however, Clifton was in the study
with his father.