Punish Me With Roses - a Victorian Historical Romance (25 page)

"She wasn't any more talkative outside," his brother continued. "Let's just lock her up like the others and deal with them all tomorrow."

Mr. Trevelyn nodded. He'd obviously seen that she would be no fun. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her fight to understand what had happened. No questions would be asked by her, nor would she look at Alex again. Hopefully, never again.

She then prayed that they locked her up--as they promised--soon. Otherwise, she'd have no control over her breakdown.

And then they would have won completely.

"Are you awake?"

Victoria draped her arm over her eyes.
Please mother, only a few more minutes. I'll practice the piano as soon as I wake up.

"Miss? Miss Victoria?"

She felt the gentle prodding through her slumberous haze. Slowly, she opened one eye and then the other. "Betsy!"

The young maid leaned over her with a bright lantern. "You have to leave."

"Leave now?" She draped her arm over her eyes, exhausting from crying hopeless tears.

"Yes! You'll be charged with murder in the morning," she said, her tone grave.

She finally realized where she was and what had happened to her. "How did you get in here?"

"There's a copy to every key in this house. But that evil man didn't know that, did he?" she said with a satisfied giggle.

She forced her weak body into a sitting position, reached for her dressing gown and draped it over her shoulders. She didn't know what to do. She supposed she had hoped Alex would put all the pieces together once she arrived. She had the new information that Mr. Trevelyn was the beggar, but she didn't know what to do with it. If the Trevelyn family claimed that they'd found Hugh and Mark's murderer, why would anyone believe her story that Charles Trevelyn had given her poisoned brandy?

"I've already packed your bag, Miss Victoria. It's right by the door. If you leave now, you can take the coach to my aunt's house in Kent."

"Oh, Betsy, I can't!"

"Do you want to be hanged?"

"No," she said through her tears, somehow finding the energy to get out of bed.

"I'll help you dress."

In silence, she prepared for the trip ahead.

As undignified as it was, she couldn't keep herself from using Betsy's ear to bemoan her fate. "He said he would take care of everything. He said he wouldn't let them have me."

"And then he betrayed you to his family. He probably claimed that he wasn't like them and all that hogwash, but it wasn't true. Was it?"

"He said I could be a free woman. We could explain everything--"

"Well, even if he was on your side, the police have already made their decisions. They won't change their minds."

She cried as Betsy buttoned up the back of her dress. "I
know
Alex would have been able to figure out a way. Especially now that I know Charles Trevelyn was disguised as the beggar that gave me the brandy."

"Miss, we women, rich
and
poor, have to take care of ourselves. No man is going to do it for us." She turned Victoria to face her and nodded towards the carpetbag beside the door. "Let's get you going."

When she walked down the hall, she wished it could be some other way. If only Alex had told her that he loved her, maybe she could believe that no matter what happened, he'd keep her safe. He had told her to get out when she'd entered the study initially. What could that mean?

But he'd never really answered her questions. Never assured her that even if she was taken, he would bring her back.

Therefore, just as Betsy had told her, she had to take care of things herself. Except perhaps with the help of Betsy. "You've been such a help to me. I don't know how I can ever repay you."

"You know," the maid told her, when they were going down the servant's stairs, "I've been watching out for you from the beginning. I even took the bottle of brandy away and hid it, after what happened to Mr. Clavering. A lady like you doesn't belong in jail."

She stopped. "You have the brandy? Still?"

"It hasn't really been that long. It's where I put it originally. I could destroy it for you, if you like?"

Thoughts filled her head of what that brandy could do for her, then she realized it was a way to possibly prove her theory. Of course, the proof might still depend partially on her testimony...

"Betsy, did they find anyone else after they locked me in my room. A man?"

She nodded. "A doctor, they said, caught in the garden."

"Perfect! You need to give him the brandy and ask him to test it for arsenic. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course."

With new hope, she walked faster. Maybe she had a way out. She wouldn't go to prison or be transported. She'd be free.

But then, she'd also be alone.

She was standing in the kitchen when she realized she could go no further. "I can't do it."

"You have to."

"I can't." She remembered the last time she'd escaped Blackmoore in the middle of the night. What had it done for her? Sure, she had found Alex and she'd never regret that for a moment. But had she found freedom? Had she lost all of her worries and cares?

No. She hadn't.

All she'd accomplished by running away was complicating her life even more. What would make this time any different?

She turned around. "What bedroom is Alex in?"

"You want to commit suicide?"

"I don't think I will be. I can't believe that he could do this to me. And even if he has, I need to face it head on."

Betsy led her out of the kitchen and back up the stairs. "I think this is a mistake."

"Leaving is what feels wrong." She followed the rest of the way in silence.

The maid stopped walking when she'd reached the door that, presumably, Alex was behind. "Be careful," she whispered, patting her large stomach.

She smiled. "Don't worry. I have nothing to worry about."

She watched her walk away, then looked at the door. What would she say to him? Could he ever understand her viewpoint?

Turning the door handle was one of the hardest things she'd ever done. She walked inside the partially lit room. She screamed when she saw a figure standing beside the bed.

"Victoria! It's only me," Alex said, rushing forward. He gripped her by the shoulders.

"Tell me right now if you're going to betray me," she spit out.

"Of course not."

"For some reason, I find that hard to believe."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You don't understand, Victoria."

She shook her head, aching from the emotional overload. "You told me that once before and--"

"I explained things. Didn't I?" He stepped forward, looking at her with pleading eyes. "I fixed it that time. Give me a chance to do it again."

Torn, she looked past him. She saw that he'd been packing. "Going somewhere?"

"I was just about to come get you. Things don't look good, Victoria. My plan isn't going to work."

"
We're
going to leave?"

"Yes."

"And go where?"

"Anywhere but here."

It was difficult to breathe and the pain in her chest had returned. "I don't understand what's going on, Alex!"

"You will, but first, we have to get out of here." He rushed back to his bag and stuffed a few things inside.

She couldn't even comprehend why he'd unpacked in the first place. "I'm not leaving here until you explain... until you tell me why you betrayed us."

"I didn't, darling. It was all a part of the plan. But of course, you weren't supposed to be here."

"But what happened?"

He closed the bag. "When we got here, they were waiting. I think they knew that we followed them. It was an ambush. So I turned on John and Rafe, pretending that I had brought them here on purpose." He grabbed her hands.

She wondered if he could feel her overactive pulse, or if her palms were as moist as they felt.

"They believed it too! Your uncle screamed and hollered at me, because he must have thought that he really
had
been tricked. My father was suitably convinced."

Tears peeked out from her heavy eyelids. "Is that the truth, Alexander? You swear?"

"Cross my heart and hope to--"

"Live," she finished. "Forever, sweetheart."

He pulled her to him. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise." He kissed her affectionately on the cheek. "Let's go."

"Wait, Alex," she said. "I don't think we should run away."

"But--"

"I know it's the easiest way, but it may not be the best way." She took a deep breath, still finding it difficult to believe that he hadn't really betrayed her. "Before I came here, I considered leaving by myself. Then I realized that it wasn't the answer to my problems. And now, even with you at my side, I haven't changed my mind."

His expression was one of disbelief. "You were going to leave by yourself? I still don't even understand how you got out of your room."

"One of the maids, Betsy, is loyal only to me. She knew where there was an extra key."

"Betsy, as in Betsy
Carter
?"

Smiling, she nodded. Then she remembered why she was there, not just in his room but in Blackmoore at all. "You still haven't asked me why we followed you here."

"Trust me. I was getting to that."

She paced the room. "After you left, my mind began to piece everything together. Rafe had said that he'd seen your father disguised as a sailor. I thought that if he'd do something like that once, he'd do it again." She explained the conversation with Fabian that led her to understand that Charles Trevelyn had a scar similar to that of the beggar. Then she paused.

He came forward. "So?"

"It's him, Alex!"

His hands went up into the air. "I can't believe it! It was him all along... he was involved since the very beginning."

"Right. So you see why I had to give you that information, don't you?" Before he could answer, she continued, "And coming here has been even more useful. Betsy had been keeping a very important secret."

He shook his head. "If you're going to say she's with child, that isn't much of a secret, dear. Don't tell me it's my father's though?"

"No, no. The brandy, Alex." Excited, she touched his arm and gazed at him in heated furor. "She still had the bottle that I'd put the arsenic in. I told her to take it to Fabian so that he could escape to get it tested for arsenic."

"But you know what was put in it..."

"I may not." She looked around nervously. "Think about it. Your father could only have been disguised for sinister purposes and he was the one to give me the brandy. What if it was poisoned before I even got it?"

"So that your arsenic really had nothing to do with it?" he asked.

"If it's the way I think."

He hugged her. "This is wonderful!"

The warmth of his body against hers made anything seem possible, any obstacle surmountable. She reveled in it for a few minutes, then realized that they had plans to make. She looked outside over his shoulder. Was that the beginnings of dawn?

After she'd pulled away, he said, "Considering what you've just told me, I think it's better that we stay."

"Yes, we'll truly face it this time." She shivered. "What do you think they'll do?"

"I don't know, but I have a good idea about what Fabian will do. As soon as he has proof of what's in the bottle, he'll alert the authorities and incriminate my father and brother. The way I see it, we just have to wait until they arrive."

"So we're going to have to stall them in the morning?"

He nodded but she could see anxiety written in the depths of his eyes.

Her eyes moistened and he pulled her into his arms. She could feel her lips shaking. "What if it doesn't work out?"

"We'll go somewhere else until we're able to prove your innocence."

She grabbed his arms almost violently and cried, "But, Alex, listen to me. I might not be innocent. There might not be the exorbitant amounts of arsenic in that bottle. If not..."

"That's not important," he said firmly, shaking his head.

She thought of everything that had happened between them and how, no matter what, her past kept them apart. He didn't love her, had never been able to claim more than fierce affection. Even then, when they were making plans for the next morning, he made no mention of their future
together
. Nor did he mention love. She'd reveled in whatever he could give her, but affection wouldn't keep her heart from breaking. "But it is important, Alex. It is to
you
."

He looked at her for a more than a few seconds, then glanced toward the window. Time was of the utmost importance. "If that's the way you think, I obviously haven't expressed myself very well."

Could his words mean anything of what she hoped they did?

"What makes you think that I'm self-congratulating enough to sacrifice the love of a good woman to a misplaced sense of morals? The law may feel differently, but I feel that if you didn't intend to kill, you're not a
murderer
."

"But what are we going to do? Could we get away and, if so, would that be wrong?" She looked into his eyes and saw her sorrowful expression mirrored in their depths. "What about..." she started, but pride stopped her from completing the question. How did one ask a man how much she meant to him? How did one ask if she were
loved
?

"No matter what happens, darling, I'm keeping you close to me. I told you that I've changed, but maybe there was nothing to change in the first place. I was just waiting for someone like you to poke holes in my theory. But know this: I don't care."

"Your cousin may be dead because of me," she reiterated. "Know this, two men could have been killed by me. Not intentionally perhaps, but I had meant to cause Hugh harm. I took their lives with stupidity." She couldn't even live with him for a moment if his claims of fealty came from not truly understanding what happened.

He put his hand beneath her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Know
this
, I don't care if you've killed a thousand men. I'm the one who has to live in a world that is generally worse before it ever gets better. I'm the one who has to live without you if you were to be punished. Not them. They're dead! And I don't give a damn about the moral fortitude of loving you. I'll love you forever, wherever you might be, but I'm going to make damn sure that it's right here!" He pulled her into his arms, making a cage out of his muscled body.