Bartered Bride

The Tower of London, Autumn 1835 The stones of the Tower radiated anguish and despair. How many prisoners had paced these rooms, praying for escape? As a nearby church bell tolled seven times, Gavin Elliott lay on his narrow bed, eyes closed. Soon he must rise and prepare for the trial that would begin today, but he preferred to hang on to the rags of a pleasant dream as long as possible. Transparent aquamarine water, white sand, Alexandra laughing with the vitality that made all other women pale by comparison. Alex. The dream splintered and fell away. Wearily he sat up and swung his legs from the bed. The stone floor had the chill of death. Two warders were always posted in the room with him, ubiquitous as the stony chamber's cold drafts. He'd lived shoulder to shoulder with other men when he first went to sea as a common sailor, but he'd spent too many years as the captain, the owner, the taipan, to enjoy this return to constant scrutiny. The door opened, closed again. "Your breakfast has arrived, sir." The warders were scrupulously polite. Not their fault the tea was prepared so far away that it was tepid by the time it reached the prisoner in the Bloody Tower. Moving to the washstand, Gavin splashed cold water on his face to clear his mind, then shaved with extra care. It wouldn't do to look like a murderous villain today. The face in the mirror didn't inspire him with confidence, though. Grief, strain, and weeks of imprisonment shadowed his eyes, and years of sun and sea had left him with a weathered, tan complexion that Britons considered ungentlemanly. The coat and trousers he donned were black for mourning. He wondered if his judges would consider that hypocritical. The door opened again. The taller of the warders, Ridley, mumbled a protest. The reply was much clearer. "I have permission." Recognizing the voice, Gavin turned to greet the Earl of Wrexham. They'd come a long way since that first meeting in India seven years before. Kyle Renbourne had been Lord Maxwell then, a restless heir running away from his staid English life. Gavin had been in dire straits, a string of disasters having driven his trading company, Elliott House, to the brink of collapse. After a night of talking and drinking they struck a deal on a handshake, and became friends as well as partners. That bond held even now that Kyle had inherited his father's honors, while Gavin was the scandal of London. Kyle crossed the room, his long coat darkened with rain. "I thought I'd accompany you to your trial." And in doing so, he'd make a public display of support. "Good of you," Gavin said gruffly, "but there's no point in tarnishing your reputation." His friend gave a faint smile. "An advantage of being a lord is that it doesn't much matter what people think about me." "It matters when one is assumed to be a murderer." With a gesture, Kyle cleared the room of warders. When they were alone, he said, "The investigator has a couple of leads that might prove who tried to make you look guilty. Pierce or your damned cousin are capable of doing it." Gavin shrugged into his coat. "It's easier to believe that I'm a murderer than that I'm the target of a vast, complicated conspiracy." "You're no murderer." "I didn't kill Alex, but there are other lives on my conscience. Maybe divine justice is catching up with me." "Defending your life and protecting others isn't murder. The so-called evidence that you were responsible for AlexandraPutney, Mary Jo is the author of 'Bartered Bride' with ISBN 9780345437051 and ISBN 0345437055.