Sweet Release (49 page)

Cassie fought not to turn her head as the creak of doors and the tap of footsteps announced Alec’s arrival. Unable to breathe, only dimly aware of the clamor Alec’s appearance had caused among those seated in the gallery above, she stared down at her clasped hands as his footsteps drew nearer. But as he passed her, it was not his bare feet she saw but silk hose and a gentleman’s polished leather shoes, brass buckles shining.

Unable to stop herself, she lifted her eyes slowly to look at him, stifling a gasp. This was not the Alec she knew. Far from the dirty, bruised prisoner she had expected, he stood, proud and tall, dressed not like an indentured servant, but the finest of English gentlemen. Breeches of the darkest blue velvet clung to his thighs, the matching waistcoat accented with gold brocade. Ivory lace was gathered at his throat and wrists. His hair, sleek and dark, was braided into a ramillie, held in place by a dark blue velvet ribbon. His face was clean shaven, his expression unyielding—the face of an astonishingly handsome stranger.

His name a whisper on her lips, she met his gaze, and his blue eyes softened as they looked into hers. Then he was gone, making his way toward the stand reserved for the accused, its platform surrounded by a waist-high barrier of slatted wood.

“Silence in the courtroom!” the governor shouted over the hubbub. “This court shall not become a circus. Anyone disrupting today’s hearing will find himself keeping company with rats in the public gaol.”

A tense silence fell over the gallery.

“Is the accused aware of the serious charges against him?” asked Gooch.

“I am, Governor.”

“If it please Your Honor, I should like to read the allegations to the court so we all might know how serious they truly are,” Drysdale said.

“Proceed.”

“Nicholas Braden, a convict condemned to fourteen years servitude for the crime of ravishment, stands accused again of ravishment, as well as attempting to escape his rightful master, horse theft, assault on a gentleman, and murder of that same gentleman, the recently departed Master Geoffrey Crichton the Third. What say you to these charges?”

“To all but one, I plead innocent, as I was merely defending myself. As for the charge of ravishment, I am guilty.”

An excited chatter arose in the courtroom, and Cassie found herself staring openmouthed in shock. Ravishment? She had lain with him willingly!

“Father had Drysdale include that charge to protect you,” Lucy whispered, as if reading her mind.

“But it’s not true!” Cassie whispered back.

“Silence!” the governor shouted. “Another interruption and I shall have the sheriff arrest every third person among you.” The din dropped to a whisper.

Cassie’s heart sank, and her mind raced to the obvious conclusion. This was how Master Carter had kept the sheriff at bay. Alec had agreed to a lie for her sake. Did he not realize he’d given them everything they needed to hang him?

“You do understand this court need only convict you of one charge to order you hanged?” the governor asked. “If you plead guilty, we need not hold this trial. Because you are already a convicted felon, we could hang you straightaway.”

“If I may, Your Honor,” said a slight young man Cassie had not noticed before. “I am Master George Ludwell, Esquire, sir, lately retained by Master Robert Carter to represent Master Kenleigh.”

“His name is Braden,” Drysdale retorted. “Young Ludwell is trying to confuse us, Governor.”

Looking slightly annoyed, the governor waved off Drysdale’s concern and motioned for Master Ludwell to continue.

“The defendant does understand the gravity of his pleading guilty but hopes the court will concede to hear this case, as the circumstances behind the charges are most unusual. We believe that after all has been heard, the court will allow Master Kenleigh—”

“Braden!”

“—to plead benefit of clergy on the charge of ravishment.” Everyone began shouting at once—the governor, Master Drysdale, Master Ludwell, Master Crichton, and a gallery full of spectators who’d evidently forgotten the governor’s threat.

Cassie stared wide-eyed at Lucy, who smiled, her face alight with excitement.

“You see, dear, there is hope.” Lucy gave Cassie a little hug. Hope. Cassie had not dared to feel hope for so long, she scarcely recognized the emotion. Was there a chance? If he was allowed to plead benefit of clergy, the court could sentence Alec only to being branded on the thumb with a cold iron. But how could they accomplish this?

“Silence!” The shout came not from the governor, but from the court crier, who strode importantly into the center of the courtroom and began beating the base of his staff against the floor. “Silence!” The clamor slowly subsided.

“Governor, surely you cannot allow this farce to proceed!” The voice was Master Crichton’s. “This man killed my son, and now he wants to weasel out of the hangman’s noose with far-fetched stories! He’s already seen to it that his whore won’t hang with him—”

Cassie felt heat rush into her face.

“Master Crichton, contain yourself!” Governor Gooch demanded. The governor eyed the entire courtroom in silence before speaking again. “In the interests of fairness and justice, I will allow this trial to continue, but I must warn you, Ludwell, I will not allow you to make a mockery of the law by presenting evidence that has no basis in fact.”

“Understood, Your Honor. Thank you, sir,” Ludwell said.

By noon any hope Cassie had felt had faded away completely, as witness after witness described the events leading to Geoffrey’s death. With each word Cassie felt the jury’s hearts grow harder toward the man she loved. Nicholas Braden, the convict who tried to escape a fourteen-year sentence. Nicholas Braden, the convict who, failing to gain his freedom, seduced his master’s daughter and bent her to his will. Nicholas Braden, the convict who ruined a fallen woman’s only chance at respectability by breaking up the marriage sacrament and killing the noble-hearted gentleman who’d offered to marry her.

Sheriff Hollingsworth told the court how he’d almost been convinced Alec was telling the truth—until Philip’s letter had come from London, proving him a liar. He read the letter to the court, every damning word. Then he read aloud from Nicholas Braden’s indenture papers, which claimed Nicholas Braden was a “seducer and defiler of women.”

Reverend Dinwiddie, clutching a Bible, testified that Geoffrey had tried to save Cassie from herself, going so far as to offer her child a name it didn’t deserve. Exaggerating all the while, he told the court how Alec had disrupted the marriage ceremony and assaulted Geoffrey in the church. Then he told how Alec had shot and killed Geoffrey when Geoffrey, armed with the reverend’s pistol, tried to stop Alec from running away with the disgraced bride. Their testimony hadn’t seemed to bother Alec. Cassie had glanced furtively in his direction several times, to find him looking every bit the gentleman in control of his surroundings, his stance and brow relaxed as if he had no worries at all. Cassie did not share his confidence.

The prosecutor’s case was simple: Nicholas Braden, a convict, had defiled his master’s daughter and was in the process of escaping when he’d killed the man who tried to stop him. All evidence pointed to that conclusion. What could Alec and the inexperienced George Ludwell say to counter such ruinous testimony?

“It is Master Ludwell’s turn now,” Lucy whispered as Master Drysdale moved to rest his case.

Master Ludwell rose and moved to the center of the room. “I call upon Alec Kenleigh to testify,” Ludwell said.

“I must protest this ruse!” cried Drysdale. “The man’s name is Nicholas Braden, and he should be referred to as such. Calling a rat ‘Your Highness’ and dressing it in ermine and velvet does not make it a prince.”

Guffaws and chuckles filled the courtroom.

The governor nodded, smiling at the quip. “Use the name that the court recognizes, young man,” he said with an impatient flick of the wrist.

“Very well, Your Honor, but the issue of this man’s identity is central to his defense.”

Unlike the others, who’d sat in the witness stand to testify, Alec was forced to remain on his feet in the prisoner’s box. “Sir, could you tell the jury your full name?”

“Alec Madison Kenleigh the Third.”

Cassie listened, fascinated, as Alec described for Master Ludwell details of his life she’d not heard before. It was disturbing to realized that, in a very real sense, Alec was a stranger to her. He’d been educated at Eton College as a boy, then gone on to study at Oxford, where he’d excelled in classical languages and mathematics. His father had groomed him from childhood to take over Kenleigh Shipyards, the family shipbuilding business, and had left him a vast estate, which he managed with the help of his brother-in-law, Lt. Matthew Hasting.

“Yes, yes,” interrupted Master Drysdale, “this is all very interesting, but have you any proof? While we’d all love to go on listening to this narration, there is this trifling matter of a murder trial to be settled. Hadn’t you best present your evidence?”

Cassie was horrified to see members of the jury chuckle.

“Quite right. Quite right,” Governor Gooch agreed. “Get on with your argument.”

“Very well. Master Kenleigh, can you tell the court how you came j to be in this predicament?”

Cassie would later recall that the courtroom was completely silent as Alec, his rich baritone voice filling the chamber, told how he’d been set upon and beaten in the dark, how he’d regained consciousness, confused and disoriented on a ship, how he’d been beaten for trying to free himself and finally awakened to find himself in this strange land, a prisoner.

“How did Miss Blakewell react when you told her this story?”

“She didn’t believe me. As I recall, she laughed,” Alec said with a smile so charming, Cassie found herself smiling, too. “Still, she summoned the sheriff and allowed me to post a letter to England.”

“Are you familiar with the reply that was received from Philip Kenleigh?”

“Aye.”

“Can you explain that letter?”

“I’ve come to believe Philip was behind my abduction,” he answered. Alec then told of the fight he’d had with his brother that morning long ago and of Philip’s threat.

“So Philip wanted you out of the way so he could inherit the estate and be free from restrictions you had imposed. Is that correct?”

“It is the only way to make sense of what happened.”

Though she could not see his eyes, Cassie heard sadness in his voice. How horrid it must be to find one’s own brother capable of such hate. She listened to Alec tell the part of the tale she knew—how he’d promised not to attempt escape, how he’d worked beside field hands and indentured servants and how he’d taken over care of the horses—and she began to feel hopeful. Surely the jurors would see he was telling the truth. Surely they could tell from his measured speech and manner that he was no miscreant.

“So you kept your word, even passing up a chance to escape,” Master Ludwell said, after Alec recounted his riding to Corotoman for quinquina. “Please tell the court what events led to Geoffrey Crichton’s death.”

But this part of the story was new. Cassie listened in shocked disbelief as Alec described how he had manipulated and seduced her, taking advantage of her father’s absence to steal her innocence.

“She was untouched, a virgin unprepared to face male wiles. Unprotected, she stood no chance against a man of my experience,” Alec said. “I took advantage of her vulnerability and naiveté to ease my loneliness, and though I regret my actions, I’m fully prepared to take responsibility for Miss Blakewell once the matter of my identity is resolved.”

Something twisted in Cassie’s heart. The rational part of her mind told her he was only saying these things to protect her. He didn’t truly mean them. He hadn’t taken advantage of her. He didn’t really regret the time he’d spent with her. He felt more than a sense of responsibility for her.

Confused, her heart a jumble of emotion, Cassie listened to Alec recount how Geoffrey had found them in bed together, had him flogged, and dragged Cassie against her will to Crichton Hall, and how he’d waited until he was strong enough to stop a marriage he knew she didn’t want.

“I wouldn’t see her punished for my lack of scruples,” he said. “When Geoffrey Crichton aimed a pistol at me, I fired to protect myself.”

“This has all been very fascinating,” Master Drysdale said as he strode into the center of the room to cross-examine Alec. “Tell me, Braden, how long did it take you to manufacture this elaborate story?”

“I did not manufacture it. It is the truth.”

“Did Miss Blakewell help you with the details? She’s quite a liar herself, having kept us all in the dark about her father’s condition for so long. We still haven’t heard the whole truth on that subject, have we?”

Cassie lifted her chin in defiance, and saw Alec’s expression harden.

“Leave Miss Blakewell out of this.” The menace in his voice was real.

Master Drysdale turned toward the bench, the tails of his red robe swirling. “I have no questions for the prisoner, Governor. One cannot challenge the veracity of fiction.”

The gallery erupted with laughter, and Cassie realized in despair that no one believed Alec. They, like Master Drysdale, were convinced Alec was simply telling stories. Members of the jury were smiling.