Scandals of an Innocent (26 page)

“I’m so sorry, Miles,” Dexter was saying quickly. “I did what I could, but the magistrate is here. Someone has laid evidence against Miss Lister.”

Mr. Pullen, the magistrate, pushed his way to the front of the crowd. “My lord,” he said. “There has been an accusation of the utmost gravity against Miss Lister. The suggestion that she robbed Madame Claudine’s gown shop of a wedding dress—”

“Outrageous!” Mrs. Lister interrupted, her feathered headdress wagging. “Madness!”

“And,” Pullen continued doggedly, clearly extremely uncomfortable, “that
you
were a witness to the event, my lord.” He drew a deep breath. “Can it possibly be true? Did you see Miss Lister outside the gown shop on the night of February seven, my lord?”

Miles turned and looked at Alice. Her gaze, wide with horror, clung to his. He felt a terrible stab of regret at what he was going to do and a helpless tide of tenderness for Alice even as he knew that he was going to betray her.

“Miles,” she said. “Don’t…”

Don’t tell the truth….

But he had to. Alice had wanted him to reform, and slowly, painfully, against his will, he was becoming an honest man. He could not go back now. He could not lie when it suited him and still claim to be worthy of her. Alice deserved the best, not some scoundrel who
had barely found his principles before he decided to compromise them.

“Yes, Mr. Pullen,” Miles said, “I can confirm it.” He turned to the magistrate, who was looking at him, his mouth open in shock.

“My lord?” Pullen stuttered.

“It is quite correct,” Miles repeated. “I saw Miss Lister outside the gown shop on the night of February seven. I cannot tell a lie.”

A
LICE SAT ON THE
hard little bench in her cell and stared blindly at the damp wall opposite. The jail in Fortune’s Folly was tiny—two cells only—and they usually held drunken villagers who had taken too much ale on a night out at the Morris Clown Inn. Tonight there was one such miscreant in the first cell and she was in the other. Mr. Pullen, apologizing profusely, had professed that he had no alternative other than to have her locked up due to the seriousness of the allegation against her.

The name of the person who had laid the complaint was still unknown to her, as was any information on what might happen to her next. Lowell had grabbed her hand as she was being taken away and had promised to come to get her out, but Alice had known he was as ignorant of the law as she was and had no idea what needed to be done. She could only hope that Mr. Gaines and Mr. Churchward between them would be able to help.

Even whilst Mr. Pullen was formally reading the charge against her, the crowd was shifting and talking scandal about her as though she was not there, the malicious faces of the Duchess of Cole and Mrs. Minchin and their cronies swimming before Alice’s eyes like some horrible nightmare. The scent of Miles’s skin
was still on her, she knew she looked tumbled and taken, and she knew that everyone in Fortune’s Folly knew Miles had had her like some cheap whore he had bedded at the Morris Clown Inn. She had felt utterly humiliated and did not know where to turn.

Then Lizzie had provided some much-needed distraction by emptying a bucket of spa water over Miss Caton’s immaculately coiffed head and Miss Caton had screamed and sworn like a fishwife. Lowell had tried to hit Miles and had had to be restrained by Dexter Anstruther. Mrs. Lister had succumbed to hysterics and Lady Vickery had tended to her with smelling salts. Nat Waterhouse had finally managed to force the crowd to disperse. Mr. Pullen had taken Alice away and she had seen no point in making any resistance.

And through it all Miles had stood there, his expression carved from granite, as though he had not held her in his arms five minutes before and had not made love to her with such tender, driving passion and had never cared for her for a single moment. Alice had felt incredulous and confused, betrayed and bereft. She had seen Nat arguing with Miles in a furious undertone and Miles shake his head, and although she knew he was an officer of the law himself she had felt bitterly angry that he had not broken that law by lying to protect her. He had said himself that the terms of Lady Membury’s will were wrecked so there was no longer any compulsion upon him to tell the truth. So why the
hell
had he not lied to save her?

Now, sitting alone in the little cell and listening to the drip of the water off the mossy walls, she felt little better. In fact, she felt worse. She knew she was guilty. She and Lizzie
had
broken into the gown shop to find
Mary’s dress. She had forgotten all about it, but clearly someone else had not; they had seen her and had waited and had used the information they had to bring her to this.

None of it seemed to matter much compared with Miles’s betrayal of her. Everything had happened too fast, with too little time to adjust. She shifted on the bench as the slight soreness in her body, the faint bruises on her skin, reminded her of Miles’s lovemaking. She had been dazzled by the sensations he had aroused in her, feelings and emotions that were new and untried and yet somehow as old as time. She had barely started to come to terms with what had happened between them when Dexter had been hammering on the door and reality had torn apart her blissful dreams. And now she felt used and cheap and instead of bliss she felt humiliation. She could not wash Miles’s scent off her skin nor seem to erase the feeling that he had imprinted himself on her body. The sense that she could never be free of him made her feel the most abject shame of all.

The slamming of the jail door made Alice jump and dragged her from her misery for a moment. She could hear her mother’s voice. Evidently, Mrs. Lister had recovered from her hysterics.

“It’s a scandal and an outrage. He deserves to be horsewhipped!” Alice had wondered what it would take for her mother to change her mind about Miles Vickery. Now she knew. Degrading her daughter in front of the whole village and having her locked up in jail had finally helped Mrs. Lister realize that he was nothing more than a scoundrel.

“Release my daughter at once, you poltroon!” By
the muffled thumps coming from outside, Alice thought it probable that her mother was attacking the guard with her reticule. Perhaps they would be sharing a cell shortly.

“Mama…” This was Lowell’s more-measured tone. “Pray calm down. This is not helping Alice.”

“I don’t care!” More thumps. “Knaves and ruffians, all of them! You should be ashamed of yourself, locking up a young lady like this!”

There was the sound of a scuffle, which Alice presumed was Lowell forcibly removing Mrs. Lister from the jail before she became its next inmate. Then the door crashed again and Lizzie Scarlet’s imperious voice rang out.

“Officer, I am here to confess to the theft of a wedding gown from Madame Claudine’s dress shop!”

Alice pressed her ear closer to the door. Despite herself she was actually beginning to enjoy this.

“Can’t take any confessions here, m’lady,” the guard said calmly. “I’m not qualified for it. You need to speak to the magistrate.”

“I have done,” Lizzie said indignantly, “and he will not heed me. I want to explain that I am the one who stole the dress, not Alice!”

“Lizzie, be quiet.” Alice could hear Nat Waterhouse now and he sounded exasperated. So Lizzie had turned to Nat in her time of need and Nat had responded. That, Alice thought, was interesting.

“You will do no good with such wild confessions,” Nat continued. “I agreed to come with you to help get Miss Lister out, not to assist you in joining her. Officer—” his voice faded slightly as he had obviously turned to appeal to the guard “—there has clearly
been some mistake. I am sure Miss Lister is entirely innocent of any crime.”

“No mistake, my lord.” The guard was at his most stolid. “Your colleague Lord Vickery identified her as the thief, and Madame Claudine is pressing charges.”

Lizzie started to say something but Nat cut her off and miraculously she remained silent.

“I am sure that Lord Vickery must be mistaken,” Nat said. “Miss Lister is no criminal. It can only be a case of mistaken identity.”

“There’s nothing I can do, my lord,” the guard said, even more woodenly.

“I’ll pay you to let her go!” Lizzie said suddenly. “Fifty guineas! One hundred! Whatever you want!”

“Lizzie,” Nat said strongly. “You will not make matters any better by attempting to bribe an officer of the law.”

“That’s right, my lady,” the guard said, sounding regretful.

Lizzie gave an outraged snort. “At least I am trying to do
something,
” Alice heard her say. “The rest of you are imbeciles.”

“Miles is trying to get Miss Lister out by the proper means,” Nat said.

“Do you hear that, Alice?” Lizzie bellowed, making Alice jump. “Miles is trying to get you out. Sweet of him, when he had you arrested in the first place! I’ll shoot him for this!”

There was the sound of a scuffle in the corridor outside and then Lizzie, her voice fading as she protested faintly, “Nat! Stop that—”

Once again the jail door crashed shut and the sounds died away leaving Alice in silence.

The candle burned down and the little jail started to quieten down for the night. The drunkard in the next cell must evidently have fallen asleep. The cold and the silence began to seep into Alice’s bones, setting her shivering. She could not believe that her family and friends had all abandoned her to her fate and gone home to their comfortable beds whilst she lay here in the dark listening to the scuttering of the rats in the wall and the steady drip of water in the tiny closet. Would they return in the morning? Would anyone be able to get her out of this hellhole? Did Miles, whose fault it was that she was here in the first place, really care enough to have her released? The fury and misery stirred within her, a tight pain in her chest sharp with bitter loss. Twice now she had trusted Miles Vickery, twice she had loved him, and twice he had betrayed that trust. This time was even worse than before, because she had fallen in love with him with her eyes open, knowing full well what she was doing yet still wanting him and believing, oh, so foolishly, that she could make him love her in return.

She got up a little stiffly and made her way into the tiny closet. On the floor was an open bucket. Alice wrinkled up her nose. It was fortunate, she thought, that she had not been raised in any degree of luxury. Most young ladies would assuredly have passed the stage of having the vapors by now and would be insensible with outraged decency.

Having seen to her bodily needs as best she could, Alice made her way back into the cell and curled up tightly on the bench, huddling under the frowsty blanket in a vain attempt to keep warm. She must have slept a little because the next thing she remembered
was the thud of the bolts being drawn back and the long, slow scrape of the door being opened. She felt stiff and cold from lying on the narrow bench, and her clothes felt dirty and slept in. The cell was in complete darkness, but as the door swung open, candlelight flooded in from the corridor outside.

Alice rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes.

Miles Vickery was standing in the doorway. He looked as immaculate as though he had come to collect her for a ball. Alice, aware of the dust clinging to her skirts and her skin, felt grubby and cobwebbed.

“She’s all yours, my lord,” the guard said. “Glad to be rid of her. She’s been no trouble but her friends and relations are a different matter….” He shook his head sorrowfully.

Shamefully Alice discovered that her first instinct was to throw herself into Miles’s arms, cling to him and beg him to get her out of there. The urge to do so was so strong and overwhelming that she was shocked. And then, hot on the heels of her first instinct came fury, cleansing and strong.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to get you out,” Miles said.

“That’s wonderful!” Alice said. “Since you were the one who put me in here in the first place!” She scrambled to her feet and stood facing him, hands on hips. “I do not want to see you, Miles, and I do not want your help. I hate you! Go away!”

Miles came into the little cell. His physical presence seemed to dominate the tiny space, almost overwhelming her. She backed away from him until she tripped over the wooden bench and he put out a casual hand to steady her, scooping her up and into his arms with
almost insulting ease. Alice kicked and wriggled, inflamed with fury and with the knowledge that his hands on her body were arousing the sorts of feelings she never, ever wanted him to incite in her again.

“Put me down!” she squeaked.

“No.” He was not even prepared to discuss it. He strode out into the corridor, where a cold breeze blew, setting the lamp guttering on the guard’s table.

“Put me
down!
” Alice’s voice rose as close to hysteria as she had ever been. “You think it is acceptable to…to make love to me and then to have me locked up in jail and then to come marching in here and carry me off as though nothing has happened!” She caught the fascinated expression on the guard’s face and snapped, “Oh, do not look so surprised! I know the entire village has already heard that Lord Vickery ravished me in the spa baths before having me arrested!”

“Yes, miss,” the guard said. “I had heard that.”

“You see?” Alice said to Miles. “Everyone knows.”

“They certainly will do if you keep shouting like that,” Miles said. “Thank you, Compton.”

“My lord,” the guard said, shutting the door behind them with a bang. Alice heard the bolts shoot home.

“Put me down!” she said for a third time, and this time Miles complied.

Out in the street the air cut like a knife and little flakes of snow whirled past on the wind. Alice ignored Miles completely and set off along the lane toward Spring House. When Miles lengthened his stride to keep up with her she broke into a run, and he grabbed her arm to slow her down.

“Wait!” he said.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Alice said. She swung
around so fast that he had to tighten his grip to steady her. Her throat felt dry as cardboard and she knew she was about to cry, and the very last thing she wanted to do was burst into tears in front of him. That she simply could not bear.

“I don’t want your company,” she snapped. “Leave me alone!”

“I cannot,” Miles said. He sounded regretful. “I cannot allow you to walk home alone in the middle of the night. I am sworn to protect you.”

“Which you did by having me thrown into jail,” Alice said. “Excellent work, Lord Vickery.”

Miles spread his hands wide. “What would you have me do?” he asked. “Lie to save you?”

“Yes!” Alice said. Her temper soared. “Yes!” she said again. “That is
exactly
what I wanted you to do, Lord Vickery. You were the one who told me that there were good social reasons for lying. Well, this was the best reason ever.” She stopped in the middle of the road and planted her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “You did not even have the requirement of honesty placed on you anymore!” she shouted. “You had said yourself that you had broken the terms of our betrothal, so you were no longer even required to be truthful, and yet you suddenly decided that you are going to be excruciatingly honest and have me thrown in jail!”