former secretary. Yes, this is very much like Irish prisons. I shall feel right at home. She moved toward the bench and then looked back at Lord Ragsdale, who had remained by the door.
“My lord? My business will take some time, so perhaps if you wish to give your secretary a piece of your mind, you might go first,” she said.
There was no reply. “My lord?” she repeated. It is different, is it not, she thought as she watched Lord Ragsdale's face, to turn someone over to justice in a fit of rage, and then to see the results of it. “Really, my lord, you may go first. I don't mind.”
“No, Emma,” he said finally. “I will wait for you in the hall.” The door closed behind him.
Emma seated herself in front of Breedlow and handed him the marquess's handkerchief. “It is only a little wet,” she said.
He took it, wiped his eyes, and then stared at her.
“I am Lord Ragsdale's new secretary,” she said. “I believe that you can help me. You see, I am reforming Lord Ragsdale.”
HE HOUR PASSED QUICKLY. SHE TOOK NOTES rapidly and trusted her memory for the rest of Breedlow's information about how to manage Lord Ragsdale's affairs. “I am certain he will ask you to write his letters for him,” Breedlow continued as the guard by the inner door blew a little brass whistle. “He's not that difficult to please.” He paused and looked toward the guard. “I only wish he had not been so lazy. Perhaps then I would not have been tempted …” His voice trailed away as the women on the benches started to rise.
“How long before you are transported?” Emma asked, wishing there was something she could do for the man.
“Very soon, I fear,” he replied. He took a last dab at his eyes and then started to hand back Lord Ragsdale's handkerchief. He hesitated. “May I keep this?”
Mystified, she nodded. “Why would you want to?”
Breedlow bowed his head, and she could tell that her question had humiliated him further. “I can sell it for food.” He raised his eyes to hers. “You can't imagine how hungry I am.”
“Oh, I can,” she said softly as the guard blew the whistle again. “Keep it, by all means. I wish I had some money to give you.”
He shook his head and managed a ragged smile. “Actually, I have enjoyed your company. You are my first visitor. My sister lives too far away to visit.” Again he stopped and looked away as the tears came to his eyes. “And now I will never see her again, and it was all for twenty pounds.”
They were both silent. Emma leaned forward then and reached into her reticule. “Please, Mr. Breedlow, can you do me a favor?”
He stared at her blankly. “How could I possibly do you a favor?”
“I want to hand you a letter. Please take it to Australia. See if you can deliver it for me.” She kept her voice low as the guards began to herd the women together at the other end of the narrow room.
He shook his head. “You daren't hand me anything. The guards will only tear it up and beat me later.”
“It was just a thought,” she said then and withdrew her hand from the reticule. “Mr. Breedlow, good luck.”
He started to reply, when one of the women near the door screamed and fainted. As the other women clustered around, jabbering and gesturing, the guards hurried to that end of the room.
“Quickly now.” It was Breedlow, holding his hand out to her. She grabbed the letter again and thrust it at him, grateful for the unexpected diversion. It disappeared as soon as she handed it over.
Order returned quickly, and a guard gestured her toward the door and thrust his key in the lock that chained Breedlow to the wall.
“Good luck, Mr. Breedlow,” she called again as he was led away. “Please don't lose that letter,” she said softly as the other women, more of them crying now, hurried from the room. She watched the former secretary until the door clanged behind him and then sighed and stepped into the hall again.
Lord Ragsdale waited for her. He snapped
“My lord? My business will take some time, so perhaps if you wish to give your secretary a piece of your mind, you might go first,” she said.
There was no reply. “My lord?” she repeated. It is different, is it not, she thought as she watched Lord Ragsdale's face, to turn someone over to justice in a fit of rage, and then to see the results of it. “Really, my lord, you may go first. I don't mind.”
“No, Emma,” he said finally. “I will wait for you in the hall.” The door closed behind him.
Emma seated herself in front of Breedlow and handed him the marquess's handkerchief. “It is only a little wet,” she said.
He took it, wiped his eyes, and then stared at her.
“I am Lord Ragsdale's new secretary,” she said. “I believe that you can help me. You see, I am reforming Lord Ragsdale.”
HE HOUR PASSED QUICKLY. SHE TOOK NOTES rapidly and trusted her memory for the rest of Breedlow's information about how to manage Lord Ragsdale's affairs. “I am certain he will ask you to write his letters for him,” Breedlow continued as the guard by the inner door blew a little brass whistle. “He's not that difficult to please.” He paused and looked toward the guard. “I only wish he had not been so lazy. Perhaps then I would not have been tempted …” His voice trailed away as the women on the benches started to rise.
“How long before you are transported?” Emma asked, wishing there was something she could do for the man.
“Very soon, I fear,” he replied. He took a last dab at his eyes and then started to hand back Lord Ragsdale's handkerchief. He hesitated. “May I keep this?”
Mystified, she nodded. “Why would you want to?”
Breedlow bowed his head, and she could tell that her question had humiliated him further. “I can sell it for food.” He raised his eyes to hers. “You can't imagine how hungry I am.”
“Oh, I can,” she said softly as the guard blew the whistle again. “Keep it, by all means. I wish I had some money to give you.”
He shook his head and managed a ragged smile. “Actually, I have enjoyed your company. You are my first visitor. My sister lives too far away to visit.” Again he stopped and looked away as the tears came to his eyes. “And now I will never see her again, and it was all for twenty pounds.”
They were both silent. Emma leaned forward then and reached into her reticule. “Please, Mr. Breedlow, can you do me a favor?”
He stared at her blankly. “How could I possibly do you a favor?”
“I want to hand you a letter. Please take it to Australia. See if you can deliver it for me.” She kept her voice low as the guards began to herd the women together at the other end of the narrow room.
He shook his head. “You daren't hand me anything. The guards will only tear it up and beat me later.”
“It was just a thought,” she said then and withdrew her hand from the reticule. “Mr. Breedlow, good luck.”
He started to reply, when one of the women near the door screamed and fainted. As the other women clustered around, jabbering and gesturing, the guards hurried to that end of the room.
“Quickly now.” It was Breedlow, holding his hand out to her. She grabbed the letter again and thrust it at him, grateful for the unexpected diversion. It disappeared as soon as she handed it over.
Order returned quickly, and a guard gestured her toward the door and thrust his key in the lock that chained Breedlow to the wall.
“Good luck, Mr. Breedlow,” she called again as he was led away. “Please don't lose that letter,” she said softly as the other women, more of them crying now, hurried from the room. She watched the former secretary until the door clanged behind him and then sighed and stepped into the hall again.
Lord Ragsdale waited for her. He snapped
Similar Books
