Trevor went to see John Winthrop, a highly recommend barrister. Trevor explained his situation and all of Kristen's background, then sat back and waited as John and his partner, Edward Gates, discussed the case in the next room. Finally, Winthrop came back into the office and sat behind his desk.
"This is a most interesting case," Winthrop said, then cleared his throat. "My one worry is your wife's background before you married her. By your own admission, she was a thief and quite capable of murder."
"Kristen didn't murder the man. It was self-defense," Trevor was quick to remind Winthrop.
"I'm sure it was." Winthrop nodded his head in agreement. "However, the prosecutor might decide to dwell on Kristen's background and further damage her reputation. Does she not have a family who could vouch for her?"
"She does have a grandfather and a sister," Trevor reluctantly admitted.
"Then I suggest you have them at court. We will need their help."
Trevor stood, thanked Winthrop, then left. He had tried everything he could think of to try and avoid this meeting with Ian Johnstone. But now it was obvious that Ian was his last resort, and he had no choice but to return to Chatsworth, and then to visit Scotgrow.
Reigning in his horse, Trevor looked across the green fields at the gray stone manor. He had to admit the home was impressive and nearly as large as Chatsworth. Nearly, he smiled to himself, but Chatsworth was still more impressive. Kristen's relatives had done well for themselves.
Trevor drew in a long, deep breath. Nothing would happen if he continued to sit here. He nudged his horse and they cleared the final distance to his first meeting with the enemy.
Trevor was glad he'd sent word of his arrival ahead. He wouldn't have to do any explaining at the door. A rather large brute met him at the door, and showed him to a sitting room, where he waited for Ian to make his appearance. Trevor wasn't too sure how to handle this meeting, but he bloody well wouldn't beg the man for his help.
"And to what do I owe the honor of this visit?" A Scots voice boomed out behind Trevor.
Trevor swung around. He wasn't sure what he expected--maybe some small, feeble old man stooped over from the years. Certainly not this hulk of a man who was just as tall as himself, and reasonably fit for his age. He saw the resemblance to Kristen in Ian's sharp, green eyes and his faded reddish-gray hair.
"I must speak with you. It's a matter of great importance," Trevor said, deciding it was better to come straight to the problem at hand.
"I dinna believe we have a thin' tae discuss except for Kristen." Ian raised a bushy gray brow. "What have ye done with my granddaughter?"
"Kristen is exactly what I need to discuss with you." Trevor tried to remain patient, but he feared his anxiety showed in his voice.
"What have ye done to her?" Ian grabbed Trevor's coat. If ye have hurt the lass, I'll kill ye here and now."
Trevor shoved the man's hands away from him, and narrowed his eyes. "I haven't done anything with Kristen, but she is in trouble and needs our help. So keep your bloody temper in check. Shall we sit down?" Trevor pointed to a set of tall black chairs that sat opposite each other in front of a huge stone fireplace. "And I'll explain what has happened the best I can."
Ian grunted and grumbled, muttering under his breath. Finally, after a tense moment, he sat down in one chair and motioned for Trevor to take the other. The perfect place for two opponents.
"Kristen is in prison," Trevor said bluntly. It wasn't the best place to start, but he wanted Ian to understand the seriousness of the matter.
"What!" Ian shouted and jumped out of his chair. His face had turned as red as an apple. "By the saints above, what happened?" He threw his hands up in the air as if he expected an answer from the heavens.
Trevor watched the old man's reaction with observant eyes. The Scot was too damn excitable. He wondered how much help he would be. "If you don't remain calm, you'll be no bloody help to Kristen," Trevor said between clenched teeth, trying to keep his temper under control. "Let's get one thing straight, I don't like you any more than you like me. However, if we are going to free Kristen, we will have to work together."
"Not bloody likely!" Ian's eyes blazed with a sudden anger. "Never could trust a Claremont."
"Then I suggest you start now, or Kristen will hang."
That statement knocked the wind out of the old man and he slowly sank back down in his chair.
Good, Trevor thought. Maybe he could get through this without any more outbursts. "Kristen killed her stepfather."
"He wasn't her stepfather!"
"Precisely. And that's exactly what we need to convince the judge. You know how Kristen grew up."
"No, I dinna know. We've never spoken about it. Always thought there would be time later."
"Then I shall tell you." Trevor drew in a deep breath and shifted in the chair, impatiently wanting to get down to the problem. "Kristen grew up in the streets. She was underfed and basically had to pick pockets in order to survive. From what I can gather, Ned, her stepfather, beat her every time he started drinking."
"Saints above! I dinna know." Ian shook his head sadly. "I'd probably have killed that mon myself. And the woman if I'd got my hands on her. She stole my granddaughter and robbed my little girl of her childhood."
"I agree. The situation is sad," Trevor said. "We can't do anything about her past, but I hope we can do something about the future."
"What do I need tae do?"
Trevor finally felt like he was getting through the man's thick head. He leaned forward, propping his elbow on his knees. "Kristen's trial is in three days. We need to pull together and show that she was a victim of the man. We must convince everyone that she is a good person who ended up in a bad situation."
"Aye," Ian said, then grew quiet. "After she's acquitted, then what?"
"Kristen will be free, of course."
"That's not what I meant."
Trevor eyed the crafty old buzzard. "Then what do you mean?"
"Are ye smelling a trap now?" Ian grinned. "I will help ye, but I'll be wantin' something in return."
Trevor should have known this wouldn't be easy. What did the old buzzard have in mind? "And what may that be?"
"I've been deprived of Kristen for all these years. Ye can't imagine what it has done tae me." Ian looked Trevor dead in the eye. "The Claremonts have robbed me once before--"
"And what's that supposed to bloody mean?" Trevor snapped, barely controlling his own temper. "I stole nothing from you!"
"I think ye know, but now is not the time tae discuss such matters. I want ye tae promise me that when Kristen is free that ye'll send her tae me, so I can spend some time with her." One corner of his mouth twisted upward. "Besides ye dinna love her."
"You don't know a damned thing about me!" Trevor exploded as he rose and looked down at Ian. "Kristen is my wife."
"Aye, and ye wed her when she had little choice in the matter, if I recall the story correctly."
"True, we had an arrangement."
"Then why don't ye give her a chance tae make a choice of her own free will?" Ian demanded. "Or are ye afraid she won't choose ye?"
Trevor resented being backed into a corner, and he particularly didn't like having his fears thrown back at him. However, he did need to present a stable front with Ian's help, so he could free Kristen.
He would agree to anything as long as it would help Kristen. Trevor clenched his fists tightly and said with a vague hint of disapproval, "I will agree to send Kristen with you when she is set free as long as you agree to let her come home to me if she so chooses."
"Done!" Ian stood and offered his hand.
Trevor noted the pleased look on the man's face and wondered just what Johnstone thought he'd won. Trevor frowned and didn't bother to take his hand.
As they sized each other up, the door opened and a young woman breezed through. Trevor glanced around Ian at her, then stopped and looked again speechless. Kristen had told him about her sister, but he was completely unprepared to see another woman who looked so much like his wife.
Ian turned and looked in the same direction. "Keely, girl. Come meet Kristen's husband." He gestured toward her. Keely approached shyly and offered her hand.
"I'm glad tae meet ye," she said, smiling demurely. "Kristen spoke of ye often."
"She did?" Trevor couldn't help the note of surprise in his voice.
"Aye, she did. I must say her description of ye was very accurate."
Trevor laughed. "I don't think I will ask you to explain that remark."
Keely laughed. "She spoke quite fondly of ye."
Keely's similarity to Kristen made him think of his wife, and where she was spending her nights. He felt so much like all this was his fault. If he had not gotten drunk and driven Kristen away, Ned wouldn't have gotten his hands on Hagan, and Kristen wouldn't be in jail. Trevor had to get her out of prison one way or the other. He owed her that much. And if she chose to return to Johnstone, he would do whatever it took to change her mind, he vowed.
He turned back to Ian. "We should ride to London together. I can arrange for my coach to take us."
"And what's wrong with my coach? Are ye insinuating my carriage isn't good enough?" Johnstone bristled.
"I didn't say there was anything wrong with it," Trevor bit out. Did the man have to be obstinate about everything? "But my coach has already been readied to travel."
"That being the case, I'll agree tae use yers." Johnstone turned and called to his man.
"Where are ye going?" Keely asked, then added, "And where is Kristen?"
Trevor glanced at Keely, and an idea came to him in a rush. "Perhaps we should take Keely. No one can doubt that Kristen is a Johnstone if they see Keely. And we'll stop by Chatsworth and pick up Hagan. The more family we have there, the better it will appear."
"For once, we agree on something, Englishmon."
"Take me where?" Keely asked, confused.
"Go make ready to travel to London, girl. We'll be explaining on the way."
Kristen gazed around the new cell. She had to admit this cell was better than the one she'd moved from, but she still felt caged. She sat on the bed, impatiently brushing her hair.
"Let me get that for you, mum," Rebecca said from across the room.
Kristen smiled at her. "Thank you, Rebecca, but I need something tae do. This confinement is driving me crazy," Kristen complained. Thank God, Trevor had sent Rebecca with some decent food. At least, the girl could keep her company.
Rebecca perched on the other bed and carefully pulled a needle through a tapestry. "Would you like for me to teach you how to sew?" Rebecca looked up, piercing her finger as she did so. "Ouch!" She immediately held her finger to her mouth. "It will help to pass the time."
"I dinna think so." Kristen smiled. "Looks painful." What she wanted was to see Trevor. It had been a week since she'd last seen him. And she didn't understand why he stayed away.
Kristen had asked Rebecca, but the maid hadn't been a bit of help on that subject. The only thing she'd said was that Trevor had given her instructions to pack some of Kristen's things and to keep her company.
Was that so he wouldn't have to come see her himself? Kristen couldn't help wondering.
Kristen did manage to find out from one of the guards that her trial would be the next morning. As the time drew closer, she worried. What was she going to say in her defense?
"Why are you frowning so?” Rebecca asked.
Kristen looked up at her maid, and tried to mask her turmoil. “Was I frowning?"
Rebecca nodded.
"I was thinking about the trial tomorrow. What if the judge doesn't believe my side of the story and finds me guilty?" she said with a long, exhausted sigh. She stood. "I could hang."
"No, mum. You mustn't say such things," Rebecca protested and put down her sewing. "Surely, he'll see how good you are."
"But I've not always been good," Kristen admitted as she paced back and forth. She really wasn't sure she was good, but it was nice to know someone thought so. "'Tis sorry that I am. I've stolen a few things and I've lied--not that I didn't have a good reason, ye ken?" Kristen tried to judge Rebecca's reaction.
"Oh dear." Rebecca's eyes widened.
Kristen swallowed hard. She could see the fear in her maid's eyes.
God, she was doomed.
Kristen looked to heaven. If ye get me out of this one. I swear I won't steal again, she silently prayed. And I really do mean it this time.
She didn't want to die. Now that she had a chance for happiness, she wanted to live. She had Hagan to take care of, and she had Trevor. At least, she hoped he still wanted her. Somehow, some way, she'd have to make the judge see that she had killed Ned to protect Hagan. She was not the criminal she was presumed to be.
"You're very lucky, mum," Rebecca said, finally coming out of her shocked silence.
"Are ye daft! How can I be lucky?" Kristen tossed her head and gave an irritable tug at her sleeve. "We are sitting in the middle of a prison, or had ye forgotten that small fact? The only luck I seem to have is all bad."
"I disagree." Rebecca blushed, but persisted.
"Perhaps, I should have yer thoughts."
"Now that you have shared your background with me, I think it was a stroke of luck that you found a man like His Grace."
"Actually, I didn't exactly find the mon." Kristen smiled as she remembered their very first meeting. "I robbed him.”
"Oh, no," Rebecca gasped, hugging her arms to herself.
Kristen frowned. "Aye, I did."
"But he married you. I don't understand."
Kristen sat back down on the bed. "'Tis a long story, but we seemed tae need each other, and we kind of struck a bargain."
"Then I will go back and say you are very lucky. You have a fine husband who loves you."
"I dinna think so. I had hoped so, but how can he after what I've done?"
"Oh, but he does. True love isn't conditional. It doesn't depend on what you do, but who you are." Rebecca smiled wistfully. "He looked real worried when he sent me here."
"So worried that he hasn't bothered tae show himself in a week!"
Rebecca shrugged. "I'm sure he has his reasons."
Trevor almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Here he sat in a carriage with people he barely knew, riding to the rescue of a wife he'd never planned to have.
And what's worse, they had to pretend to be a cheerful family.
With the look on Ian's grumpy face, it would take a small miracle to convince the judge they were family at all . . . much less a happy one.
Keely seemed to be the only happy one because she was sound asleep next to Ian.
"Are we going to bring Kristen home?" Hagan asked.
"Aye," Ian said.
"Yes," Trevor and Ian answered together, then glared at each other.
"We hope so, Hagan," Trevor started again. "Kristen will have to be tried. You must remember to be very quiet during the trial."
"What's a trial?" Hagan asked.
"By the saints, the chap can be asking some questions," Ian grumbled.
"A trial is what people get when they have been accused of doing something wrong." Trevor spoke to the child but glared at Ian. "The trial decides if they are guilty or innocent."
"Kristen, didn't do nothing wrong," Hagan insisted.
"I agree, she didn't."
"'Tis a bloody English court," Ian snapped. "Ye probably can't trust any of them."
"Well, it's all we have," Trevor sharpened his voice. "I have obtained the best barristers money can buy."
"That's ye answer to everything. Money!" Ian grunted.
"You're grumpy, Grandda," Hagan said as he looked up at the man. "Didn't you sleep well?"
"I canna sleep with all the bloody racket," Ian informed Hagan. Ian shifted and tried to make himself comfortable in his seat.
Hagan smiled at Ian. "You remind me so much of Grandmere."
Ian raised a bushy white brow as he studied the child. "And how is that?"
"She was always grumpy, too. Did you know her?"
Trevor noted the strange look that entered Ian's eyes, and he wondered. Trevor could almost swear that Ian's eyes looked misty.
"Aye, I knew her."
"She's gone, you know," Hagan replied sadly.
"I heard." Ian's words seemed worn and thin. "Why don't we get some sleep?" Ian folded his arms across his chest and shut his eyes, putting an end to the conversation.
"I'm not sleepy," Hagan protested, looking at Trevor.
"Ian's right. We'll be traveling all night. You must try to rest. As you can see, Keely has already gone to sleep."
Hagan got up on his knees so he could whisper in Trevor's ear. "It's strange how much she looks like Kristen."
Trevor chuckled and nodded his agreement. "Lie down and put your head in my lap. No arguments."
"Ah, Trevor," Hagan grumbled, but did as he was told.
Trevor leaned back, resting his head on the coach's plush bolster. "Good night."
"'Night," the child said, then added, ”Don't forget to pray for Kristen."
"I will. Go to sleep." Trevor rubbed the child's head, and then he did something--something he hadn't done in a long time.
Trevor shut his eyes and prayed for a small miracle.