Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
‘If you insist.’ Lymington bends with some effort and picks up something from the ground, waving it. ‘I believe this is yours,’ he says to Johnny, who instinctively reaches up to his pocket and pats at where the handkerchief should be. Then he looks down at his chest on a frown before darting his wary eyes to mine.
My God, he’s being framed! ‘No,’ I say quietly, turning to Lymington. ‘That could be anyone’s handkerchief.’
Lymington snorts and, so smugly, I just know he’s got something up his sleeve, he pulls one corner taut, showing it to the crowds. The initials JW stitched in gold to match the buttons of Johnny’s velvet jacket stare back at me. ‘I believe we now have the evidence we need to prove that this man is a danger to society. He tried to kill Frederick, and he killed Porter in an attempt to halt the rumours of him attacking Frank Melrose. He must be hung for his crimes!’
‘Seize him!’ the Prince barks, prompting his men to all move in and circle Johnny.
‘No,’ I whisper, as I am grasped and pulled away by Frank. ‘What are you doing?’ I protest. ‘I must defend him!’
‘Eliza, you must stop it this instant before you are arrested for treason.’
‘I do not care!’ I yell. ‘Johnny could not have harmed Frederick.’
‘How can you be so sure, Eliza? It’s there as plain as the nose on my face.’
‘I…’ You must give me the time I need to make this all right. God damn it. But it’s all so horribly wrong right now. ‘I just know it to be true!’
Frank whirls me round, keen to remove me, and as he pushes me through the crowds, my tears flow. We make it outside and I watch, horrified, as they escort Johnny away. He does not wriggle and fight. Why? Why is he accepting this?
He looks back at me and the expression on his face pains me. It’s a mix of anger and sadness, and he smiles softly, as if trying to reassure me. It won’t work. Frank pulls me on, the pain in my heart unbearable. I would never have survived this new world without Johnny. Now he’s gone?
I already feel as though I am slowly dying.
Chapter 16
Father has been holed up in his office throughout the night, various men coming and going, but one man has remained. Lymington. I despise him. I have sat at the top of the stairs trying to listen to the conversation, but they are talking in whispers. I cannot get any closer either, as Dalton, though he’s aware of my interest, or perhaps because he has been told to, is keeping close guard on Father’s study. Frank has remained in the drawing room too, on hand to be summoned whenever Father needs him. I am unsure as to whether I should be comforted by my brother’s banishment, or wary. God damn it, what damning tales are being concocted in there?
I cannot sit here without speaking up. I cannot allow them to condemn Johnny. I am proof that he did not attack Frederick, and I must confess, no matter what.
I stand and pace down the stairs, and, having heard me I expect, Frank comes out of the drawing room, looking as tired and as drained as I feel. ‘Go to bed, Eliza,’ he says once again.
‘I cannot allow this.’
Rolling his eyes, he scrubs a hand down his face, turning and going back into the drawing room. ‘What is it with you and this misplaced desire to prove that the Duke is innocent in all the things?’
‘Because, brother, it is the right thing to do.’
‘The right thing for you to do is to shut up.’
I recoil, indignant and march right up to Frank.
And punch him in his bicep.
‘Owww!’ he yelps, feeling at his arm.
‘You shut up,’ I order. ‘The right thing for you to do is step away from Lizzy Fallow. The right thing for Clara to do is steer very clear of the stable boy. The right thing for me to do is…’
‘Clara and the stable boy?’ Frank asks.
Damn my runaway mouth. ‘The Duke has been framed, and I for one cannot stand by and watch as an innocent man is hung for crimes he did not commit. There’s something untoward going on here, Frank, and I intend to find out what.’ Pivoting, I march to Father’s study and thump on the door.
‘Clara and the stable boy?’ he bellows, making me flinch.
‘What of Clara?’ Mother appears, and I turn to see her looking between us.
‘Nothing,’ I hurry to reassure her, just as the door to Father’s office swings open behind me.
‘What of Clara?’ Father asks.
Bloody hell.
I look at Frank as though he is mad and perhaps stupid, which is rich, I know.
‘What?’ Clara appears beside Mother, and I silently will her to leave.