Love's Peril (Lord Trent Series) (36 page)

“Should I refuse her?”Harriet tentatively inquired.

“Not necessarily. You should consider this carefully. If you don’t aid him, and he’s hanged, you’ll be second-guessing for the rest of your days.”

“I couldn’t bear it.”

“You’d drive yourself mad.”

The dining room door opened, and the men joined them. Fanny and her husband Michael went upstairs to check on their children.

James and Tristan settled in, and Tristan noted the tension in the air.

“You two look as if you’re fighting. Are you?”

“No.”

“They’re too much alike,”James pointed out. “They can read each other’s minds, so they don’t have to quarrel.”

“If you’re not fighting,”Tristan said, “why are you scowling?”

“I have to ask you something,”Harriet told him.

“When you hear what it is”—Helen glared at both brothers—“there’s to be no shouting.”

“I never shout,”James huffed.

“Neither do I,”Tristan insisted.

Helen and Harriet shared a knowing look. The brothers were excitable and volatile. A discussion of Jean Pierre was definitely a topic that would encourage tempers to flare.

Tristan teased, “Tell me what has you glowering like a pair of fussy Puritans.”

“If James was dying,”Harriet cautiously started, “and you could commit a shady and immoral act to save his life, would you?”

“Of course,”Tristan responded.

“You wouldn’t hesitate?”

“Not for a moment.”

“How about you, James?”Harriet pressed.

“You saw my reaction when Tristan was missing after the pirate attack. I spent every penny I had to mount a search.”

“If I could do the same for my brother,”Harriet said, “if he was dying and I could save him, should I?”

“If Phillip was dying?” Tristan frowned, not understanding.

“No, if Jean Pierre was dying,”Harriet quietly stated.

Suddenly, the brothers looked as if they were eager to punch someone, and Tristan vehemently snapped, “Absolutely not.”

“The man is a murdering thug,”James agreed. “No, you shouldn’t help him.”

“But if I could save his life, James!”

“He nearly killed Tristan!”James hotly retorted.

“I know that. I was there, remember?”

“How could you even consider it?”

“I was just wondering.”

“Who spoke to you about this?”Tristan inquired. “Why is this vexing you?”

“Miss Sarah Teasdale visited me today. I guess she’s Jean Pierre’s fiancée. Charles sent her. He doesn’t want Jean Pierre to hang, and he’s going to publically claim him and give him an alibi.”

“The wretch!”James muttered. “Is there any despicable behavior your father won’t attempt?”

Charles was a difficult subject for the Harcourts. Their bitter, drunken father had always told them that Charles seduced their mother, then convinced her to flee to Paris with him. But it wasn’t the truth.

Charles had already been in Paris when Florence arrived, and he hadn’t known her in London. Their affair had commenced months after Florence left her husband, but James and Tristan had trouble being civil to Charles. They tried, but such intense animosity was hard to put aside.

“James, please,”Helen scolded. “Let’s not argue about Charles. Let’s focus on Harriet’s problem.”

“Harriet’s problem? What problem? This is none of her business. Jean Pierre’s doxy can provide the testimony needed to convict him, so we have no reason to be involved.” He paused, then pompously announced, “We
shouldn’t
be involved.”

“He’s your brother too,”Harriet insisted.

“No, he’s not,”James said.

“He is, James.”

“He almost killed me, Harriet,”Tristan complained. “He deliberately chased me down so he could murder me. He stabbed me! The sword went through my body. You watched it happen.”

“I haven’t forgotten,”Harriet mumbled.

“What are you actually asking, Harriet?”James said.

“What if I testified on Jean Pierre’s behalf?”

“To say what?”Tristan fumed.

“To say he’s not the man who attacked us. My word would hold more sway than that of his mistress. I could save his life.”

“Is it worth saving?”James asked.

“I don’t know.”

“This is a disgraceful mess, Harriet,”Tristan said, “and I don’t want you in the middle of it.”

“I’m already in the middle.”

“Well, you don’t have to step in any farther.”

Fanny and Michael returned, and as they seated themselves on a sofa, Michael glanced around. On seeing their dour expressions, he said, “Are you quarreling?”

“No,”everyone replied even though they were.

Fanny asked Harriet, “Did you tell them?”

“Tell them what?”Michael asked.

Fanny answered him. “Charles is hatching a plot to save Jean Pierre, and he’s hoping Harriet will help him.”

“Help him how?”

“She’d attend the trial and say that Jean Pierre is not The French Terror.”

Michael’s brows rose. “What have you decided, Harriet?”

“I
haven’t
decided.”

She felt young and lost and wished she hadn’t mentioned the painful topic. She’d never been particularly smart—she was more prone to rash conduct and wild outbursts—and she’d need the wisdom of Solomon to stumble on a solution.

No matter what she chose to do, it would be wrong and would hurt others. It would take tremendous courage to testify for Jean Pierre, and she’d never viewed herself as a brave person. She’d never viewed herself as being especially clever.

She looked over at Tristan and James and told them, “I keep thinking about your mother.”

“What about her?”James churlishly said.

“I’ve always heard that she loved Charles and cherished Jean Pierre as no mother ever could. If she’s watching us from Heaven, what would her opinion be if we could save him, but we don’t try?”

“Don’t drag my poor mother into it,”James seethed, and Tristan added, “She’s not the villain in this depressing story.”

“Then who is?”Harriet asked. “When Jean Pierre is related to all of us, how can there be a villain?”

“Jean Pierre is the villain, Harriet,”Tristan said. “He could have walked any path, but he picked the worst one of all.”

Harriet didn’t imagine Jean Pierre had
picked
his life. She remembered being on the run herself, hiding from authorities, having nowhere to turn. She’d have done anything to be safe, to survive. She hadn’t chosen what had occurred. Circumstances had pitched her down a dangerous road, and she’d simply headed in the direction she’d been tossed.

Granted, she hadn’t murdered anyone, but she’d fought violently when she’d been attacked. How could she condemn Jean Pierre for behaving as she’d behaved?

She must have looked woeful, because Tristan pulled her onto his lap.

“Don’t fret over him, Harriet.”

“I can’t help it.”

“His fate was sealed long ago, the day he committed his first crime.”

“Jean Pierre says the very same. He feels it’s his destiny to die this way, so he won’t dispute the charges.”

“He’s correct and much smarter than I gave him credit for being. A man can’t engage in a life of crime but expect there will be no consequences.”

“I hate to think of him being alone in this. I have all of you, and he has no one.”

“He’s not a pet stray that you can rescue.”

Harriet disagreed. She thought he absolutely could be rescued, and she was being offered the chance to do it.

If she didn’t, she’d disappoint her father, the prospect of which was extremely distressing. And despite James’s and Tristan’s protestations to the contrary, Harriet was positive their mother was gazing down from Heaven, waiting to see how they would act. Yet Harriet couldn’t bear to upset her dear husband and brother-in-law.

Finally, she smiled, but it was a sad, resigned smile.

“I’m sure you’re right,”she told Tristan. “It would be a waste of time. If I assisted him, he probably wouldn’t even be grateful.”

But even as she voiced the words, they weighed so heavily, and she wondered how she’d ever manage with such a difficult burden balanced on her slender shoulders.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“I didn’t know if you’d come.”

“Me? Not come? Are you mad?”

John walked over to his cell door and clasped Raven’s hand. For the past week, he’d spoken to no one, but as the trial date approached, as his execution loomed, he’d yearned for a friendly face.

While John had many half-siblings, Raven had always been his true brother. No man had ever loved another as John loved Raven. No man had ever owed more to another.

“I shouldn’t have asked you to visit.”

“Of course you should have.”

“It’s dangerous for you to be here.”

Raven scoffed. “No more dangerous than anything else I’ve done by your side.”

They shared a soft chuckle.

“These guards are so easy to bribe,”Raven said. “We won’t be disturbed, and we won’t have any trouble.”

John gestured to the chairs by the stove. “Let’s have a last whiskey together while we talk.”

Raven sat as John poured them both a full glass, then he went over and sat, too. He brought the decanter with him. It was his favorite Scottish brew, and it wouldn’t go to waste.

They clinked their glasses in a toast to all they’d had, to all that was over.

“Tomorrow, eh?”Raven mused.

“Yes, tomorrow.”

The trial was a charade, a spectacle for the masses. There was no question as to the outcome. John had tried to simply plead guilty, to skip the trial and accompanying brouhaha, but the authorities were determined to put on a show.

It would be swiftly completed, with no jury at John’s request, and the hanging carried out directly after so the citizenry could cheer and preen. He felt as the Christians must have felt in ancient Rome while waiting for the lion to burst into the arena: weary, on display, anxious for the entire affair to be over.

In about twenty hours, he’d be dead, and he’d come to grips with that fact. There were some loose ends to tidy before his burial, and Raven would make sure his final wishes were followed.

“How is Sarah?” At his speaking her name aloud, his heart skipped a beat.

“Distraught. Worried—as we all are.”

“She tried to see me.”

“You should have let her.”

“I want her to remember me at my castle in France. I
don’t
want her to remember me here. She shouldn’t ever have that vision in her head.”

“Probably wise.”

“I gave her Bramble Bay. Has she been informed?”

“Yes, we received the deed from Lord Trent. It’s official.”

“You’ll watch over her for me?”

“’Til my dying day.”

“I just…hate that I can’t handle things myself.”

“I know that about you.”

John supposed others would view him as selfish or foolish. Why wouldn’t he fight the charges? Why wouldn’t he accept Charles Sinclair’s assistance? Why wouldn’t John confer with Charles’s lawyer? Why wouldn’t he save himself?

He and Raven had always recognized the consequences of their behavior, had understood that their lives would be violent and short. John’s end had arrived first, and there was no reason to rail against fate.

It was Sarah who vexed him. She’d take his demise very hard, would mourn and lament, which bothered him very much.

She was too kind, a typical female who’d believed they could wed and have an ordinary life. But such a normal existence had never been available to him. Already, she seemed as if she was someone he’d never actually met.

“What of Hedley and Mildred?”Raven asked. “What should I do with them?”

Now that John was facing his own abrupt conclusion, he’d lost his thirst for vengeance. If he ordered their deaths, he didn’t imagine Sarah would like it.

“I don’t care what you choose,”he said.

“Should I kill them? Hedley especially has harmed you. Mildred allowed the soldiers into the house, but Hedley persuaded her. He arranged it with Annalise, and he’s been running around town, boasting of his role in your capture. Let me kill him.”

“Sarah would grieve.”

“She’ll get over it.”

“He needs to grow up. Maybe he’d benefit from a stint in the army.”

“I could hogtie him and have him conscripted into the navy. If he spent a few years working the sails, it might make a man out of him.”

“I doubt it.”

“We can always hope.”

John nodded, deeming it a fitting punishment for the offensive, spoiled boy.

“Just don’t permit them to pester Sarah ever again. If they return to Bramble Bay, they’ll take over and harass her in her ownership. She’s too polite to tell them to stuff it.”

“I’ll keep them away,”Raven vowed. “What of Annalise? How can she think to evade my wrath?”

“The authorities have probably sworn to protect her.”

“Could be. They won’t be able to, though. I’m killing her, and your opinion doesn’t matter. She gets no mercy from me.”

“All right.”

John simply didn’t care about Annalise anymore. It truly seemed as if he was no longer alive and walking on the Earth. He was exhausted, ready for it to be over.

When he met the Lord, what would he say? How would he explain and justify his many, many sins?

“As to tomorrow…”John murmured. “I have several requests.”

“Whatever you ask, I will do.”

“I don’t want Sarah at the trial or the hanging.”

Raven shrugged. “I’ll try to prevent her, but I don’t know if I can. She’s more stubborn by the day.”

“I must have rubbed off on her.”

John couldn’t bear to stare out from the gallows and see her. He felt numb and invisible, and the sight of her might make him rue and regret. And he had no regrets. Not really.

“Once the trial is over,”John said, “and they take me outside, there shouldn’t be any heroics.”

“Reggie told us as much.”

Raven and John’s crew were eager to attempt a rescue, to rush in with pistols blazing and swords slashing to kidnap him away. But John didn’t want anyone harmed. He wasn’t worth it.

“I refuse to let you rescue me, but if you have a chance…”

“Yes?”

“Could you shoot me before the King hangs me? I’d love to foil him.”