Sebastian punched the air and growled in frustration. “You can’t sort this out on your own. You need help, preferably from a man with a title, and I doubt Lord Bowden has your back.”
A sudden clang reached their ears.
“Cursed saints!” Sebastian muttered.
“It’s only the dinner gong.” Thankfully, it was not a signal for Nicholas to begin a slow walk to the scaffold.
“I would rather eat my tongue than dine downstairs tonight. Lady Brompton won’t have anyone wearing morbid colours, so the ladies must wear those dreadful yellow gowns.”
Helen had grumbled about the stipulation.
A woman with golden hair did not wear jonquil.
“With their constant chirping, it will be like eating in an aviary full of canaries,” Sebastian moaned. “Mrs Waltham has decided to dine in her room, of course. That’s one consolation.”
Nicholas hoped his accuser choked on a chicken bone. “Thankfully, I’m to have a tray brought to my temporary cell.” The last thing he needed was Lady Brompton prying into his affairs. Being a keen gossip, she would speak of the blackmail threat while they nibbled the hors d’oeuvres.
“I shall return later. Though after suffering three hours of Lady Brompton’s company, I’ll be in a devil of a temper.” Sebastian made for the door. “The coroner is to dine with us. I shall do what I can to mitigate the damage.”
Nicholas would be gone by the time Sebastian returned.
Unsure when he might see his friend again, he said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you my secrets. I have always appreciated your friendship. My life would be quite empty without you.”
As always, Sebastian made a joke rather than reveal any emotion.
“Don’t let the threat of the noose turn you into a milksop. And we both know I need you a damn sight more than you need me.” Sebastian opened the door, and Nicholas glimpsed the lanky footman who would struggle to restrain a child. “I promise you, in a week, we will look back on this mess and find it all so amusing.”
Then Sebastian closed the door and locked Nicholas in his cell.
For a while, he stood, staring at nothing.
How a man reacted in the face of adversity said a lot about his character.
Some crumpled to the floor, blubbering wrecks.
Others turned to the Lord and prayed for salvation.
Nicholas felt the fire of vengeance in his veins.
He would not wait for stupid men to reach the wrong conclusion. He would hide in the rookeries and investigate the crime. Indeed, he would not rest until he’d found the person responsible.
Then his thoughts turned to Helen. The void between them seemed unsurmountable. There was every chance he would be caught and tried for the offence, and the sister of a viscount did not marry a man imprisoned for murder.
With Helen, he’d known not to hope. But the thought of never seeing her again hurt like a blade hacking at his heart.
Contemplating how he might make his escape, he ambled to the window. He could use the bedsheets as a make-shift rope. With the guests occupied for the next three hours, it would be a while before anyone realised he was gone.
Determined in his cause, he was about to turn away from the window but spotted a flash of yellow beyond the trimmed topiary hedge. A woman strolled through the manicured garden, her head bowed, lost in thought.
Helen!
Every instinct urged him to go to her.
Explain his plans.
Confess his feelings.
What did he have to lose? At any moment, Hope might appear with Sir Percival and cart him away to Guildford gaol.