Page 81 of To Resist a Scandalous Rogue
Her mind taunted her with this question over and over throughout the long minutes it took for the guards to admit her and then march her to a small, dank cell crammed with multiple other inmates. The lighting was so dim she could barely see her hand in front of her face, and the stench of sweat, mold, and desolation was so overwhelming her eyes watered as she gagged. Thankfully, the other occupants ignored her, but she knew her respite would probably be short lived. She trembled to think of what her fellow cellmates…or even the guards…would do once they developed a curiosity for the newest prisoner in their midst.
Locating a small patch of dry stone on which to sit, she drew her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, cocooning herself as best as possible. Still, her position didn’t stop the sounds. The curses. The coughs. The random shrieks. The moans. Every noise that met her ears was an arrow piercing the flimsy pieces of her ill-fitting armor.
Faith, she should have known it was foolhardy to think Mr. Townsend would deal with her fairly. How she wished she’d listened to Lady Flora.
Would Jimmy the footman tell her former employer what he had seen? Would Lady Flora come to find Charlotte? Or had she pushed her away with her stubbornness?
Pulling her coat tighter about her, Charlotte lowered her head and prayed for bravery. Never had she felt so alone.
…
Finlay longed for another glass of wine but knew it was unwise. His previous two glasses told him a third would send him beyond comfortably numb, and he needed his wits to survive the evening.
With a muffled grumble, he reached for a glass of lemonade from a passing footman and swilled a mouthful. It was awful. Wiping his mouth, he stared about the crowd, idly rotating the glass as he did so.
If he were not obligated to be at this musicale, he would be with Charlotte, waging a campaign on her defenses until she divulged how she knew Mr. Townsend and what hold he had on her.
Even now, he watched Townsend chat with the Italian singer he had managed to retain as the night’s entertainment. Her performances had consistently sold out shows at the opera house, and he did not want to think of how the man had been able to secure her talent. And he hated that such a move had created a crush, the townhouse packed to the brim with people eager to hear the voice of the famed singer. That it benefitted him and his campaign was a bitter irony, considering his desire to be elsewhere.
“My lord, I’m delighted to see you tonight.”
Peering to his side, he found Miss Eddington smiling up at him.
Gulping another mouthful of lemonade, he smiled…or he suspected he did. “I suppose you were hoping I would entertain you during this rather monotonous gathering, were you not?”
“Oh, but I’m thrilled to hear Signora Bianchi sing.” Her eyes were the size of crown coins. “I’ve been wanting to see her perform since her first show in Covent Gardens. It’s been told her voice can reduce a grown man to tears.”
So could a bleeding eardrum. “I suppose I have been so busy at Rockhaven Court I have not heard tales of her talent.”
Crinkles appeared at the corner of Miss Eddington’s eyes, although her face remained politely curious. “Are you often at your estate in Herefordshire?”
“I am. In my father’s absence, it is my responsibility to see to the estate and all who depend upon it.”
“I see.” Her voice held no hint of censure, yet Finlay heard it all the same. “But surely when you are elected to Commons, you will spend your time in London.”
Placing his glass on a nearby table, he linked his arms behind his back. “If I am to represent Weobley, I would want to spend as much time in the district as possible, so I could more easily learn the residents’ concerns and address them expeditiously.”
“So, you plan to live in Weobley?” she asked, her expression twisting in derision.
“No.” The word came out harsher than he intended, his irritation at her questions seeping through. Taking a moment to straighten his cuffs, he tried again. “Weobley is not far from the Court. I intend to live on the estate and travel to Weobley as much as my schedule in London and Rockhaven matters will permit.”
“I believe that to be a solid plan.” Miss Eddington nodded in approval. “I also believe it much wiser for you to live in London and commute to your estate and Weobley should you need to. Everything happens in Town, and my father says it’s always important to keep your finger on the heartbeat of Society.”
Before he could think too deeply on this development, a slender figure materialized at his side, panting from exercise.
“Firthwell,” Lady Flora gasped, clasping his arms. “I have news of grave importance.”
Taking her elbow, he gestured to a footman as he led her to a pair of chairs in a corner of the room. “What has happened?”
“Charlotte has been taken to Newgate.”
He stumbled back a step. “What on Earth do you mean?”
The footman appeared before them, and he cursed internally at his untimely arrival. “If you would be so kind as to bring her ladyship a glass of lemonade, I would appreciate it.”
After the man’s departure, he raised his brows at Lady Flora.
Her face was ashen. “I’ve only come to collect my brother before heading to the prison. And because she asked me to return your item.”
