Chapter 34
Chapter 34
Nicholas arose early, left the house, and walked the streets of London for five miles, fighting an inner battle over his twin. His initial impulse at Christopher’s revelations had been: Let him rot! This ignoble sentiment had been replaced by a more detached attitude, to simply let justice take its course and allow the chips to fall where they may.
But, as he walked, Nick realized that he could not remain detached. For one thing, he had pledged his word to Alexandra that he would do all he could to gain his twin’s release. The fact that she thought it was Nick was totally irrelevant. If he had any honor at all, his word was his bond. But even setting Alexandra aside, the old habit of coming to his twin’s defense died hard. All his life Nick had thought of his twin as the other half of himself, albeit the weaker half. Now he realized that was no longer true. His other half was now Alexandra.
Nick acknowledged that he faced a dilemma. As he went over the alternatives, he had a sudden revelation. It was not his decision to make; it was Christopher’s. He would put the facts before him, then Kit would make his own choice.
Later that morning at the Ludgate coffeehouse, he met with Neville Staines and Justice Stevenson, who reported their success in arranging for an inquest into Henry Hatton’s death. “I pulled more strings than a harpist, but I gathered a jury. The inquest is set for tomorrow afternoon,” Neville added to Stevenson’s information, “principally because there are only two witnesses who will testify other than ourselves, you and Jeremy Eaton, who brought the charges against him.”
“Eaton is recovered enough to testify?”
“He was lucky—wounded in the shoulder—but I understand the ball missed his heart by only inches,” Stevenson declared.
Neville Staines looked at Nick with concern. “Perhaps you should consider retaining counsel in case the jury decides there is sufficient evidence to take it to trial.”
“I did that this morning,” Nick acknowledged. “Father’s solicitor, Tobias Jacobs, recommended someone.”
“Good, good. So everything is set for two o’clock at the Old Bailey, in the grand jury room. Shall I inform your brother?”
“I prefer to do that myself. Thank you Stevenson, Neville.”
Nick left the coffeehouse and walked the short distance to Wood Street. He didn’t yet know what he would say to Kit; he only knew that he must put the fear of God into him. He paid the usual garnish to visit his brother, then paid the turnkey to allow them to be private.
“What the devil did you mean yesterday, when you said you were Lord Hatton?” Kit demanded aggressively.
Nick noticed he was dressed in the Weston coat, fitted breeches, and polished Hessians that he had brought him. “You’d better sit down, while we go over your grave situation.” He did not tell him yet that the inquest had been set for tomorrow. “Neville Staines and Justice Stevenson have been working tirelessly to arrange the inquest before the authorities ship you to Newgate.”
“Newgate? I can’t go to Newgate; the prison is a cesspool for the dregs of London! I would go mad!”
Fleetingly, Nick wondered if his twin was already mad, but he dismissed the thought. Kit was weak, selfish, and without conscience; loyalty, honor, and integrity had little meaning for him, but he was quite sane. “At the inquest, if the jury decides there is enough evidence to warrant a trial, you will be incarcerated in Newgate, whether it drives you mad or no.”
“You must bribe someone, Nick! I cannot go there!”
“Have you given any thought to the fact that if you are tried for murder, you could be found guilty? The sentence would either be life imprisonment or you would be hanged.”
Kit jumped to his feet. “How can you torture me like this? I thought you loved me!”
I do love you, Kit; I just don’t like you. “If it goes to trial, I have arranged counsel for you, the best criminal defense money can buy. And there is only one witness against you.”
“Too bad Eaton didn’t die of his wound!” Kit hissed. “You have to silence him for me, Nick!”
“By killing him? I think not.”
“Go and threaten him . . . put the fear of death in him. . . . Tell him that next time we won’t miss, unless he withdraws his testimony!” Kit raked his fingers through his hair until it stood on end.
“No. We must convince the jury that it was an accident. We must not let it go to trial. As the coroner, Neville Staines will be asked to testify, as will Justice Stevenson. They, however, can only give testimony after the fact.”
“I will convince them of my innocence!”
“By lying?” Nick held his gaze until Kit lowered his eyes. “You will not testify. It is my testimony, my testimony as Lord Hatton that will decide the outcome of the inquest.”
Kit sagged to the narrow bed with relief. “Now I understand why you said you were Lord Hatton yesterday.”
“I am Lord Hatton; today, tomorrow, and henceforth.”
Kit stared in outrage at his twin, then his mind slowly began to grasp the alternative that was being offered. “I told you Hatton was like a millstone round my neck; I’ll be glad to be free of it!”
“And Alexandra?” Nick asked quietly.
“Her too! She was Father’s choice of a bride, never mine!”
“If my testimony sets you free, it would be best that you leave England for some time, Nicholas. Freedom brings responsibility. I’ll make sure you have money: ten thousand a year for life. The choice is yours.”
“I could go to Italy!” Abject fear was replaced by hope.
“The inquest has been arranged for tomorrow afternoon. I will buy you passage on a vessel to Italy by way of Gibraltar. Tonight, I’ll go to Hatton and pack your trunks.”
“Can you really effect my release?” Kit’s voice was intense.
“No guarantees, but I promise you I will do my utmost.” He rose to leave. “One thing more; be sure you wear the uniform tomorrow.”
As the morning sun streamed through the bedchamber window, Alex pondered what she would wear to the inquest. Since she was unable to speak with him, she wanted to send Nicholas a message of love and hope with her appearance. Finally, she chose a simple skirt and the bright yellow jacket. In such a vivid color, he would see her immediately, and see that she was brimming with hope and confidence in his innocence.
Her thoughts flew back to last night. Her husband hadn’t returned home until an extremely late hour. When she heard him on the stairs, she had pretended to be asleep. She avoided him again this morning by waiting until he departed before she emerged from her room. If she hadn’t gone to Berkeley Square yesterday, she would not have learned that the inquest was to be held today in the Old Bailey. She was glad she would be sitting with her grandmother in case the verdict was unfavorable. Unfavorable? What a vapid euphemism. It would be nothing short of devastating. Alex, banish those thoughts; don’t even put them in the air!
She sorted through her hats. Lady Hatton would be expected to wear a bonnet. She put on one decorated with a smart black ostrich plume and looked in the mirror. She snatched it off and threw it across the room. Convention be damned! I refuse to cover my hair; I shall wear it as a flaming beacon!
Just after one o’clock when Alexandra entered the grand jury room of the Old Bailey, she was shocked to see the room was filled to capacity by their so-called friends. She clutched Dottie’s arm.
“Jackals; I expected as much.” Dottie poked the Duchess of Rutland with her ebony cane. “Make room on the bench, Your Grace.” When they were seated, Dottie whispered to Alex, “Not to worry. When Nicholas is exonerated, the ton will fawn upon the Hattons.”
Alexandra felt many critical eyes examining her. She lifted her chin, then tossed her hair over her shoulder in a defiant gesture.
After what seemed like an eternity to her, a bewigged magistrate entered the room, followed by his court clerk and the men of the jury. Next came Jeremy Eaton, Lord Staines, Justice Stevenson, and Lord Hatton. Alexandra’s gaze was riveted on the door. When the prisoner entered wearing the faded uniform, she gave a swift gasp.
“Hear ye, hear ye! All stand!” ordered the clerk. When everyone obeyed he continued, “We are here to determine the cause and circumstances of the death of Lord Henry Hatton, whether it was an accident or whether it was a greater crime.” He cleared his throat. “All be seated!”
Nicholas, in the guise of Lord Hatton, listened attentively as Jeremy Eaton was called upon first to give his testimony. Eaton said that in the woods that day, he had been close enough to overhear a violent altercation between the accused and his father. At the height of the argument, a shot rang out, and Henry Hatton was silenced forever. He testified that he believed it was no accident but a deliberate act of murder.
By his testimony, Nick suspected that though Eaton had heard what went on that day, he had not actually seen it happen. Eaton did not confuse the issue by mentioning that it was actually Christopher who had argued with Henry Hatton that day; not Nicholas, and this told Nick that Jeremy feared the twin who had been a captain in the army far more than he feared Lord Hattan.
Eaton answered the questions put to him by the inquest jury, and Nick silently acknowledged that those answers were damning. When he was interrogated about the duel in Green Park, Eaton asserted that it had been forced upon him and that the prisoner’s clear intent had been to silence him about Henry Hatton’s murder.
Lord Hatton observed the grim faces of the men on the jury and knew he had his work cut out for him.
Colonel Stevenson, Justice of the Peace for Bucks County was called next. He testified that he believed the shooting to be an accident but admitted that he was called to the scene after the fact. “I asked Nicholas Hatton if the Heylin holster pistol found at the scene was his, and he freely acknowledged that it was. I took the word of the Hatton twins that it was a hunting accident as the gospel truth.”
Coroner Neville Staines gave similar testimony, then added that in his opinion it was a hunting accident, plain and simple, as he noted on the death certificate. When questioned, however, he admitted that his role was limited to events after the fact.
The spectators began to whisper and shuffle their feet, but when Lord Hatton was called to the box to give his testimony, a complete hush fell over the courtroom.
“What I am about to say is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I have a grave confession to make, gentlemen,” Lord Hatton admitted. “It was I who shot my father that day of the hunt; not my brother, Nicholas.”
Those present gave a collective gasp then fell silent so they would not miss a word of Lord Hatton’s testimony.
“Ever since we were children, my twin protected me and shielded me from punishment. I was a fearful boy who shrank from my father’s wrath. As my protector, my brother was ever fearless, brave, and loyal. Whenever I did anything wrong, without hesitation he switched places with me and took my punishment. He even did my schoolwork, so that I would receive Father’s praise. As you can imagine, I never learned to stand on my own two feet, never learned to face up to life.
“The day of the hunt, my twin lent me his Heylin holster pistols. When I accidentally shot my father, I threw down the gun and panicked. As Nicholas rushed upon the scene, I saw him as my salvation. I reminded him that the gun was his and begged him to say it was he who shot Father. When he hesitated, I threatened to shoot myself, knowing that his love for me would persuade him to take the blame. I acted like a coward. To my undying shame, it was not the last time.” Nicholas looked at the jury, then glanced at Alexandra and saw that she, and they, were hanging on to his every word.
“When the will was read, we learned that Father left me everything. He left Nicholas nothing. When my twin was shunned by Society, he joined the army and rose to the rank of captain. No sooner did he leave England than my cousin, Jeremy Eaton, began to blackmail me. Unless I gave him money from my inheritance, he threatened to go to the authorities and lie, telling them that my father’s death was not an accident. As was my pattern, I panicked, and because my twin was not there to take my part, I took the easiest path and paid Eaton. When he saw that I was weak and easily threatened, like a bloodsucking leech he began to drain me dry.”
Now the eyes of the jury were focused upon Eaton.
“When my twin returned from war, I told him of Eaton’s lies and threats to me. When Nicholas encountered him at White’s, he accused our cousin of blackmail, and Eaton challenged him to a duel. Then he ran to the authorities with his lies about murder, no doubt hoping to silence Nicholas Hatton permanently.
“Gentlemen, I ask you to look at my twin. Nicholas Hatton has never done anything in his life to dishonor the uniform he is wearing. My brother had nothing to do with our father’s death; it was I who accidentally shot him. I am guilty of cowardice, but that is something my twin is incapable of.”
The magistrate said, “Thank you, Lord Hatton. You may step down.” He had never before heard a Peer of the Realm admit to being a coward; the testimony carried a great deal of weight.
The jury must have thought so too, for after a short deliberation they returned and handed a written statement to the magistrate, which he in turn handed to the clerk to read. The verdict of accidental death came as a surprise to none after the dramatic testimony of Lord Hatton.
A great wave of relief washed over Alexandra, leaving her feeling as limp as wet newspaper. She watched the magistrate confer with Staines, Stevenson, and Nicholas, then they left the room together. Then she saw her husband coming to join her. “Thank you, my lord.” Her voice was intense. “Is he free to go?”
“Yes. They are discussing laying charges of blackmail against Eaton.” He turned, accepting congratulations, pats on the back, and handshakes from those who had attended the inquest. He introduced Alexandra as Lady Hatton, which informed everyone that they were newly married. Suddenly, the atmosphere became festive, with everyone offering congratulations to the groom and happiness to the bride.
Under the circumstances, Alex realized it was impossible to run to Nick’s side. She forced herself to smile for the first time in days. She told herself she had much to smile about: Nicholas had been exonerated. She knew that she had her husband to thank for his twin’s freedom, and she would be forever grateful.
Lord Hatton kissed his wife’s cheek. “I shall see you at home. I won’t be late.” Then he departed the room through the door that the officials had used.
Alexandra and Dottie took a hackney cab to Berkeley Square. “Come up for a moment, darling. You left something upstairs. The cabby will wait for you.”
When they went upstairs, Dottie handed her the box from Madame Martine’s that held the lovely new gown. “You may need this tonight.” Dottie winked suggestively.
During the short ride from Berkeley to Curzon Street, Alex clutched the box in clenched hands. The very last thing she would wear this evening was the sea-foam green dress she had worn for Nicholas on their last night together. Our last night . . . our last night . . . it truly was our last night together. How will I ever bear it?
As she paid the cabby, she glanced up at the sky. Dusk was already falling; night was rushing upon her before she was ready. Alex took her bath quickly; nothing was more conducive to daydreams than lingering in warm water. Wrapped in a towel, she opened the wardrobe door to select a gown. She shuddered involuntarily as she pushed aside Nick’s garments and chose the cream silk faille.
Alex dressed, then brushed her hair. Before she set down the brush, she heard her husband speak to Fenton, then she heard his footsteps ascend the stairs. She felt as if her heart was in her mouth, her very dry mouth. Her fingers trembled as she smoothed out the peacock ribbon on the high-waisted dress. How can I do this? How can I play wife to my beloved’s identical twin? He has the same black hair, the same gray eyes, the same cleft in his chin, the same deep voice. Alexandra, you must put one foot in front of the other and take it one step at a time. She swallowed hard and stepped into the drawing room. Slowly, but without hesitation, she crossed over to her husband. “Kit . . . Flynn . . . I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. What you did today took a great deal of courage.” She raised her fingers to touch his cheek. “You called yourself a coward, but you will never be that in my eyes.” Dear God, Nick’s scent is on my gown because it lay against his garments in the wardrobe; it is filling my senses.
Her husband looked into her eyes, then bent his head to brush his lips across hers. Her fingers left his cheek, slipping up into his dark hair, and suddenly she felt the stitches she had put there! In a heartbeat she knew this was Nicholas; knew that the twin he had saved today was Christopher; knew that the devil kissing her was deceiving her. Outrageously deceiving her!
She felt hurt and betrayed, yet as his scent enveloped her she also felt gloriously happy that somehow, some way, she was married to Nicholas. She couldn’t instantly understand what game he was playing, but it was a game two could play!
She pulled away. “Will Nick return to Hatton, do you think?”
“No. He’s decided not to bring charges against Eaton because he wants to leave the country and go abroad.”
“I think that’s a very wise decision.” She wanted to show him that Nick’s leaving would not break her heart. “Are you dining here with me tonight?”
“Yes.” He looked surprised that she had changed the subject.
“Then perhaps we should think of it as our wedding supper.” Her words held a subtle invitation.
“Perhaps we should, since our first one was such a disappointment.” His words were guarded, his eyes wary.
“My . . . appetite has improved since then.”
Alex saw his nostrils flare. Anger? Lust? “Perhaps we could dine in bed?” This time the invitation was anything but subtle.
“You’ve enjoyed dining in bed before?”
Alex wondered if he was deliberately reminding her of the intimacies they’d shared. She smiled inwardly. “Not that I recall. If I did, it was so unremarkable that I’ve forgotten it.” She watched his eyes darken as she goaded the lion’s pride. “Why don’t you find out what delicious surprises Fenton has for us, while I light the candles in my chamber and turn down the bed?”
Nick hardened in spite of himself. Alexandra was a born coquette; perhaps she couldn’t help flirting. He had been so gratified that she had kept him at arm’s length since the wedding, because she thought him to be Kit. But now she had thrown him completely off balance. He glanced after her with a puzzled frown and went to find Fenton.
The first thing she did when she entered her bedchamber was change her stockings. She found the white-and-black striped pair she’d worn at Champagne Charlie’s, the ones she’d been wearing when she did the private striptease for Nick. She pulled them on, secured them with black garters, then covered them with the demure skirt of her cream faille gown.
When he opened the bedchamber door, Alex was stretching across the bed to turn down the covers. As he glimpsed her ankles, clad in stripes, a full-blown picture jumped into his head of the night she had worn nothing but the provocative black-and-white stockings. His arousal became even more marked. Now, however, he was perversely fighting his attraction.
Alex looked at him, cast down her lashes, and said shyly, “I don’t have a maid.” Then she raised her lashes and said boldly, “You will have to help me undress.”
Nick knew he would be damned if he did, and damned if he didn’t. It’s the twin thing. She knows Kit is her husband, but because our looks are identical, she’s pretending I’m Nick. Then he had a far more disturbing thought. Because we are twins, perhaps she wants to be made love to by both of us! He approached her with reluctant steps, slowly unfastened the buttons, and stepped back.
With a teasing smile, she pulled the gown from her shoulders, let it fall to the carpet, and stepped out of it with feline grace. Then she lifted her foot to the bed, pulled back her petticoat to expose her legs, and unfastened the garter.
“Striped stockings are not worn by ladies.”
She gave a provocative laugh. “Whatever made you think I was a lady?” She shot the garter at him and licked her lips when he deftly caught it. “You forget I’ve been wooed by Hart Cavendish,” she taunted.
Now Nicholas was not only jealous over his twin but livid over the Duke of Devonshire. He stepped forward, took hold of her leg, and stripped the stocking from it. Then he lifted her petticoat off over her head and cast it away with a deliberate gesture.
“You are impetuous! What other delightful, wicked secrets will I learn tonight, my dearest lord?”
He crushed her in his arms, and his mouth came down hard and possessive on her soft lips. He forced them apart and thrust inside to the hot wet cave. He didn’t release her mouth until she had been thoroughly kissed.
Alex slid her fingers into his black hair, then touched her lips to his ear. “Don’t you think it’s time I removed your stitches?”
Nick blinked in surprise, then groaned, crushing her in his arms again. “Damn you, Hellion! You enjoyed torturing me.”
“When were you going to tell me you were not Lord Hatton?”
He put her at arm’s length and held her gaze with pewter gray eyes. “I am Lord Hatton. If I were not, then you would not be Lady Hatton. Try never to make the mistake of calling me Nicholas even in private. Call me Flynn.”
His hot hungry mouth was on hers again before she could reply, then suddenly the talking was done, replaced by far more meaningful and intimate communication.
Two hours later, as she lay in her lover’s arms, replete and languid, she murmured against his heart, “I love you, Flynn Hatton.”