Heart of Courage by Kat Martin Page B

brother was that night. I told you he was with—”
    â€œTell him the truth,” Thor commanded.
    Her eyes widened. “What…what do you think you are doing?”
    â€œI am keeping you out of trouble. That is why I am here. Now tell Constable Bertram the truth.”
    She looked over at her aunt, who was nodding in agreement. Hell and damnation—what she told the police was none of Thor’s business. All right, well, maybe after last night it was.
    She sighed with resignation. “I am not certain where my brother was that night. I may have mistaken the date. I am no longer sure.”
    Bertram’s lips twisted. “That is what I thought.”
    â€œIt doesn’t mean he was the man who killed Miss Carter.”
    â€œI’m afraid there is evidence that he was.”
    Her chest squeezed. “What evidence?”
    â€œA witness has come forward. The woman identified your brother as the man she saw fleeing the murder scene the night Phoebe Carter was killed.”
    â€œBut that is impossible! Rudy wouldn’t kill anyone!”
    Bertram touched her arm in a gesture of sympathy. “In my job I have seen many things, Miss Graham. I have learned that we never really know anyone.”
    The words stung more than they should have. Rudy wasn’t the innocent youth he once had been, the curious boy who collected butterflies and played with toy soldiers. This was a man who consorted with prostitutes and gambled away his money.
    Still, she believed him innocent. “Perhaps in some cases that is so, but this is my brother and I know he isn’t capable of murder.”
    The constable made no reply, but his gaze held a trace of pity.
    â€œI want to see him. Where have they taken him?”
    â€œYour brother is occupying a cell on the masters’ side of Newgate Prison.”
    Her stomach knotted. Deep down, she had known that was where he would be taken. Still, she felt a sharp wrenching inside her. Rudy was her brother. When they were children, he was her closest friend. She thought of their shared love of horses, the hours they had spent riding, the pranks they had played.
    Wordlessly, she turned and started walking, a thick lump swelling in her throat. As they descended the wide stone steps out to the street, her aunt on one side, Thor on the other, his big hand settled reassuringly at her waist. She was angry at him for making her tell the truth and yet she was glad he was there.
    â€œTonight,” he said softly, bending his head to hers. “Wear the orange dress and I will meet you at midnight at the back of the garden.”
    Her eyes widened. “The orange dress?”
    â€œThe men will think you are mine for the night and no one will bother you.”
    Lindsey swallowed. The notion of wearing the orange dress brought to mind the awful attack in the alley, the feel of blunt fingers stroking over her skin. It recalled what might have happened if Thor had not come when he did.
    The men will think you are mine for the night.
    Instead of attending the engagement party for the daughter of the Duke of Pelham as she had planned, she would be playing the role of Thor’s doxy. It was ridiculous. She couldn’t possibly do such a thing.
    And yet there was Rudy to consider.
    She was glad she hadn’t burned the damnable dress.
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    Lindsey, Thor and Aunt Dee left the police station together and headed straight for the prison, a miserable gray stone structure that looked as forbidding as it actually was. Both women and men were incarcerated inside the thick walls, and since its beginning, hundreds of its inhabitants had been publicly executed.
    Lindsey had read about the prison and about a female reformer named Elizabeth Fry who had begun the fight for improved conditions. Over the years, some improvements had been made, but it remained a fearful place to be locked away. It was a horrific place for a young man of wealth and position to find himself, and