For seven days William sat in his filthy cell in the bowels of hell. The slop they fed him was not worthy of a pig. As he moved his hands over his stomach, he could count each rib. His hands moved up to his face only to encounter sunken cheeks and protruding cheekbones.
“Bloody hell,” he swore. “I must resemble death. Where the hell is Spencer?”
William slowly paced the room. His muscles pulled tight, his bones creaking. How did one survive this place for long?
He had received a short missive from Spencer stating he had traveled to Dover. Why had he not returned with news of Amelia? Now his heart constricted and his head ached. William curled up on the hard, lumpy, smelly mattress and pondered his future. There were two roads in his future. Neither one was pleasant. The first one had him stuck in this hellhole until starvation or disease took him, or, bless someone’s heart, he visited the gallows and hung.
The other road he envisioned twisted and turned through the countryside. Lavender scented the air. The sun’s rays warmed his face and at the end of the winding road was his salvation. Amelia stood with arms out in welcome.
Amelia. Would he ever see her again? He needed to see her, if only for a moment. Even if he went to the gallows, he wanted to see her once more to know she was healthy and fine. He didn’t care about living anymore. He only cared about Amelia.
For the third day in a row, Spencer had been turned away from the Wentworth country estate. For the love of God, how did he report back to his cousin? He could not travel back to Newgate without word of Lady Amelia. Thinking of Newgate sent an icy shiver up his spine. That first day he visited his cousin, it had taken all his willpower to act casual. He worried for William. He prayed daily for his cousin’s freedom and for Trenton’s demise.
All Spencer had wanted to do was run from there, and the nightmare it represented, and kiss the ground outside. He would never take his freedom for granted again.
Instead of getting on his horse and riding back to William’s estate, Spencer snuck around the back of the estate and entered the servants’ door. If he could find Lady Isabella and beg her help, explain all about Trenton, then maybe she could help him with the stubborn duke.
Spencer had never told a soul about what had transpired between Geoffrey, William, and Katherine. He would utter the words this day. This time Spencer would not watch William suffer for someone else’s crimes. More was at stake than ever before.
He sneaked down hallways and up staircases trying to find Lady Isabella. As he turned a corner he caught a glimpse of blond hair and a peach skirt. His pulse sped up as he quietly hurried down the hallway. The female person in question slipped behind a closed door. It could have been the duchess or Lady Bella as they both possessed blond hair. He would have to take his chances and follow her behind the closed door because William’s life was at stake.
Spencer slowly opened the door a crack and peered inside. His breathing slowed at the sight of Lady Bella. Another occupied the bedchamber with her though. Lady Amelia sat, propped up by pillows, in a large four-poster bed. From his vantage point, Spencer thought she looked pale and tired. At the sound of footsteps in the distance, Spencer hurried inside the room. He shut the door quietly and put his finger up to silence Bella and Amelia when both ladies gasped.
“Please. Have mercy on me,” he said as he approached the bed on wobbly legs. “Bridgeton is beside himself with worry about his Countess.”
“Mr. Spencer,” Lady Bella spoke softly, “you should not be here. If Wentworth finds you he will have you arrested.”
"Indeed, let him try,” Spencer said as he stood at the foot of the bed and tried to understand the shocked and confused look on Lady Amelia’s face. “Lady Amelia, he reached for her hands, but hesitated when he saw her draw back in panic. “Please tell Wentworth, Bridgeton did not try to kill you. Please, I beg of you. He loves you.”
“Bella, who is this gentleman?” Lady Amelia asked as her eyes darted back and forth between his and Lady Bella’s.
“Who?” Spencer queried in confusion. “I am your husband’s cousin.”
“Mr. Spencer,” Lady Bella said as she took his arm and led him to a quiet corner of the room, speaking in a hushed tone, “my sister does not remember the past two years. When she woke up two days ago, after being unconscious for five, she believed she was still engaged to Captain Rycroft.”
Spencer glanced back to Lady Amelia and a knot formed in the pit of his stomach. “What do you mean she does not remember?”
“Mr. Spencer,” Lady Bella said with sympathetic eyes, “please keep your voice down. Someone tried to kill my sister by drowning her. We found her unconscious, floating in the stream that separates this property with Bridgeton’s. She remained unconscious for five days. She now believes it is 1816. The doctor said we must be patient.”
“Will she regain her memory?” Spencer asked around the newly formed lump in his throat.
“The doctor does not know. We have been telling her bits and pieces of her life.” Lady Bella leaned in close. “She does not even know she has a daughter. Poor Olivia. Just when they were becoming mother and daughter.”
Spencer’s stomach clenched at the dire situation. He had expected to find Lady Amelia well, and, by this time tomorrow, he had hoped William would be a free man. “You must listen to me,” Spencer pleaded. “William did not do this. Nor did he murder his brother or his brother’s wife. Sir Phillip Trenton, Lady Katherine’s brother, committed the crimes. We’ve been trying to prove this but have been unsuccessful. Trust me, we will prevail. I must speak with Wentworth. I have much more to explain. And I beg you, please help me.”
“What are you doing in my home?” Wentworth bellowed from behind Spencer’s back. Spencer had been so intent on explaining things to Lady Bella he had not heard the door open.
“Wentworth,” Spencer fought back the fear threatening to overtake him as he faced the stone-faced duke. “I have come to plead my cousin’s case. Could I have a private word with you, Your Grace?”
“No.”
“Wentworth,” Lady Bella said, “please listen to what Mr. Spencer has to say. It might help Amelia.”
“Follow me,” Wentworth snapped as he exited the room at a fast pace.
Spencer quickly caught up and followed the duke down the hallway, down a staircase, and down another hallway until they entered a large study. Wentworth sat down at his desk and pointed to an empty chair. “Sit down and make this quick. I have things to attend to.
Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to act casual as he sat in the upholstered armchair.
“Your Grace. First, let me say how sorry I am about what happened to Lady Amelia. It is tragic that someone would want her dead. That someone, however, is not Bridgeton.” Spencer went on to explain about the relationship between Geoffrey, Katherine, and William, telling him of the suspicious carriage accident that had taken the lives of Katherine’s parents and how they believed Trenton was responsible. “I am quite confident, when Lady Amelia regains her memory, she will exonerate her husband and confirm Trenton’s guilt.”
“Am I to understand Bridgeton hired Mr. Smythe, a Bow Street Runner, to look into this?” the duke asked.
“Yes. When Bridgeton first came to London he approached Smythe. Smythe didn’t find the proof we had hoped for. I understand you also hired him to prove my cousin’s guilt.”
“Yes. He has found nothing to confirm that Bridgeton or anyone else committed the attack on my sister. I have an idea of someone else who might want to do her harm though,” Wentworth said as he rose from his chair and strolled to the sideboard. He filled two glasses with amber liquid and placed one in Spencer’s hand. “Until the truth is known, however, your cousin will stay right where he is.”
Spencer downed the contents of the glass and welcomed the burn as it went down his throat and spread to his stomach. “Who is this person? And why should Bridgeton stay in Newgate?”
“I am not at liberty to answer either question.”
“Why?” Spencer questioned. “My cousin’s life is at stake.”
“So is my sister’s. And I will not jeopardize that. Whoever is responsible will be back to complete the job. I’m quite certain Amelia saw her attacker. Word is out that she survived but can’t remember the details of her attack. Whoever committed this crime cannot risk her getting her memory back, therefore, I assume he will try again,” Wentworth said. “Now, I have much to do. My valet, who is right outside the door, will see you out.”
“It took you long enough,” William said in a raspy voice to Spencer as the guard let his cousin into his cell.
“Traveling back and forth from London to the countryside does take time,” Spencer replied as he removed a handkerchief from the pocket of his perfectly tailored greatcoat and placed it over his mouth and nose. “I did not think it possible, but this place smells worse than the last time I visited.”
William shrugged his shoulders. “You get used to it.”
“I do not believe that for a minute.” Spencer gagged. “Don’t they empty the chamber pots?”
Once again William shrugged. “Occasionally. Now please tell me about Amelia.”Spencer explained all that had transpired since their last meeting.
“Wentworth thinks if it wasn’t me, then there’s a possibility someone other than Trenton tried to kill my wife?” William said. Damn his foggy brain. The longer he stayed in this dungeon, the worse his mind functioned.
“Yes,” Spencer answered, “but he would not give me a name. Do you have any idea who would want to kill Lady Amelia and hope to pin the murder on you?”
“Who indeed?” William pondered. “The only one, besides Trenton, whom I’ve had words with is Yarmouth. Do you think he would?” Damn. That night he found Amelia and Yarmouth in the gardens at the Northborough’s masquerade ball would forever be embedded in his mind. “It’s possible. He does enjoy inflicting pain. And his pride had been hurt when Amelia broke her betrothal to him. Is Smythe looking into this?”
“I visited Smythe when I arrived in town late yesterday,” Spencer said as he tried not to touch anything in the filthy cell. William almost laughed because he was as dirty as his cell and all the other occupants of Newgate. “Smythe confirmed he was looking into Yarmouth, but he would not discuss any of his findings with me.”
“Well, of course he would not,” William said as he sank down onto his smelly cot, leaning against the sticky wall. “I need to get out of here. I do not know how much longer I can take this place. During the day people come and go, and every time I hear someone’s footsteps coming down the hall, my hearts races and I hope and pray they have come to free me. When they don’t, I wonder how my heart continues to beat.”
William looked up to see his cousin watching with a grim expression before he continued in a shaky voice.
“At night, wails and screams reverberate down the halls, and I worry that in time, I could be the one making those inhumane sounds. When I do sleep, which is not often, I picture Amelia on our wedding day, beautiful and happy. Soon the images turn to seeing her face down and dead in the water. I do not want to sleep. I’m afraid. I do not want to give up hope that Amelia and I will be reunited, but it is hard in this place to have any optimism.”
“I wish I had better news for you,” Spencer said as he reluctantly signaled the guard standing outside the cell. “If I find out anything, I’ll send word tomorrow.”
William went from sitting on his filthy cot to lying down and closing his eyes. Even as exhaustion settled in his bones, he did not want to sleep. Did not want to have the same nightmare, seeing his beloved, Amelia, dead. But he knew he needed to sleep in order to keep up his strength. Amelia needed him. And bloody hell, he planned on being there for her. Somehow.
The thought that Yarmouth might have attempted to kill Amelia––and that it might not have been Trenton––had William’s heart pounding out of control. He knew Trenton, but he didn’t know Yarmouth or what the man was capable of. Either way, or more correctly, no matter who wanted Amelia dead, they would strike again, for she’d seen her attacker. And William planned on being there to kill the bastard. But how, how did he get out of this sewer?
Never in all his life had he felt helpless to protect the ones he loved.