Page 21 of Reforming Lord Ragsdale
“Oh, no, Emma,” he replied as he turned the corner onto Bailey. “Actually, I’m looking forward to the opportunity to give David Breedlow a piece of my mind.”
Are you sure you can spare that much?she thought and smiled in spite of herself.
Lord Ragsdale glanced at her and then pulled his horse to a stop. “I don’t know what you find so dashed amusing about a prison, Emma Costello,” he snapped.
She sobered immediately and tugged her cloak over her cold fingers. “There is nothing funny about prison,” she said, her words more distinct than she intended.
He snorted and nodded to the tiger to help her down. “You say that like an expert, Emma Costello.”
She didn’t mean to respond, but the words came out anyway.
“I am, Lord Ragsdale,” she replied, then turned to the tiger and took his helping hand.
As Emma waited for Lord Ragsdale to join her on the sidewalk, she looked up at the gray pile before her.So this is Newgate, she thought.I wonder if they are here. The view blurred over then, and she found herself in tears. Quickly she dabbed at them, intensely aware that Lord Ragsdale was watching her, a quizzical expression on his face. She waited for a jibe or a scold, but instead, he took her arm and steered her toward the entrance.
“It’s a sooty neighborhood, Emma,” he said as he pulled out a handkerchief and gave it to her.
He nodded to the porter who stood lounging beside the low entrance. “Mind your head, Emma,” he directed as he ducked his head under the gloomy stone portal.
She followed him in, holding her breath against that first whiff of prison air that she knew was coming. The oak door beyond was open and topped with a row of spikes and transverse bars. She hesitated a moment, fearing all over again the sound of such a door slamming.
Don’t be silly, Emma, she told herself. Another porter stood there, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Lord Ragsdale’s elegant clothing and then ogling her own shabbiness. He winked at her, and when she drew back, surprised, he made kissing noises that stopped when Lord Ragsdale turned around and fixed him with a stare that could have melted marble.
“Dreadful place,” Lord Ragsdale said as he waited for her to stand beside him. “I don’t know why you couldn’t have just asked me to answer your questions, Emma.”
She looked at him, her eyes wide. “Hanley told me that you had no intention of helping me.”
Emma thought he smiled at that, but the antechamber was gloomy with the light of only one lamp, and she could not be sure.
“He is quite right, of course,” Lord Ragsdale said as he motioned the porter forward. “But perhaps I would have given you the information you needed in a day or two.”
She couldn’t tell if he was quizzing her, so she made no reply.
The stench of the place was appalling, and she held Lord Ragsdale’s handkerchief to her nose, thinking to herself as she did so that British prisons smelled much like Irish ones.Spoiled food, unwashed bodies, filthy straw, she thought,disease rampant, and I wonder, does despair have an odor?She concluded that it did as she stood next to Lord Ragsdale.
“Tell the governor of this fine old institution that John Staples, the Marquess of Ragsdale, wishes an audience with him,” the marquess was telling the porter. He held his hand to his nose a moment.
The man nodded, backed through a doorway, and vanished. He was back promptly. “It’ll be a moment, my lord,” he explained. He looked at Emma. “Is she with you, my lord?” he asked.
“Regrettably, yes.”
The porter smirked at Emma. “Then she’ll have to be searched by the warden over there before she goes any farther.”
Emma looked to the left where he pointed and saw a pale, thin woman leaning against a doorframe. The woman straightened up and started toward her. Despite herself, Emma found herself crowding closer to Lord Ragsdale.
“A search will hardly be necessary!” the marquess snapped, and he stepped slightly in front of Emma.
“My lord, you’d be amazed what females try to smuggle in here under them skirts,” the porter assured him. “Go with her like a good girl, miss, or I’ll have her lift your skirts right here.”
Emma took a deep breath, regretted it instantly, and steeled herself to step forward.It’s not that bad, she told herself.You’ve done this before, she thought as the female warden gestured to her impatiently.
“I hardly think this is necessary” came Lord Ragsdale’s smooth voice. “Emma, be a good girl and open your reticule for the nice lady.”
She did as he said, and he peered inside first. “Hmmm, nothing more dangerous than a tablet, pencil, and what appears to be a letter. Are you satisfied, madam?” he asked the matron.
The woman looked inside too, then stared up at the marquess.
“I’ll still have to look under them skirts.”
