“They’re bringing your husband in soon.”
Augusta perked up at that. She had not seen Sebastian since sharing a singular look with him whilst the both of them were pinned to the frozen ground. After being hauled away to the police carriage, she’d not known his outcome.
She’d known it wouldn’t be good, though. Whatever wildness had overtaken him, the man had practically lost his mind when he’d hit the officer who struck her. It had left no doubt in her mind whether he, too, would be brought in.
Whatdidsurprise her was how much she longed for his company in this sullen, grave place.
There was nowhere to sit in the cell. The floor was not so primitive as to be dirt, as she’d always assumed cells would have, but the wood was dark and smelled of piss. She did not wish to come more in contact with it then she had to, so she remained standing, pacing the small space like an animal in a cage.
Some time went by. However long, she was not certain. The walls began to blend together as she paced. She bit her nails until she had no nails left to bite.
She heard a familiar voice, then - the very voice that had gotten her into this mess in the first place. As Amelia was marched down the hall, her words echoed around Augusta’s cell.
“...my rights as a citizen of this country, I assure you…”
Furious though she was at the woman for instigating such a brutal fight with the officers, Augusta found herself cracking the smallest smile. Then, immediately, wincing in pain. She’d known from the worsening throb in her cheek that the officer’s hit had left a mark, but had not yet seen the extent of its damage. They did not have powder rooms in prison.
“Augusta.”
She snapped to attention. Her husband’s worried voice precededthe deep concern etched into his features as he entered the alcove where her cell was kept. She nearly gasped when she saw the dried blood that smeared from his broken, fattening lip up to his ear, contrasting with the bruising around his eye.
“Sebastian,” she breathed, finding that she did not have any more words to offer.
Sebastian was flanked by two officers, who handled him with far less grace than Augusta’s own officer had. They each gripped a forearm, their mouths cast into firm lines as they guided him over to the cell door.
“Stand back,” one of the officers barked at Augusta.
She listened, stepping back further into the cell. The officer slid the bars open once more, only to push Sebastian inside and slam it shut with a terrible clang.
“Dear,” Sebastian said, hurrying up to her. His eyes landed upon her cheek and he grimaced at the sight, confirming Augusta’s suspicion that she indeed did look wretched after being hit.
“They’ve sent away for someone,” one of the officers said. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon to post bail for the lot of you.”
Reginald, no doubt. Augusta’s stomach sank at the idea of him finding her here; and yet, without him, she and Sebastian would never make it past those bars again. It was a necessary evil.
The officers disappeared back into the hallway.
Sebastian turned back to her. His hand raised to touch the wound on her face, then stopped just shy of making contact.
“Does it hurt terribly?” he asked.
She shook her head, deciding that a white lie would not be so awful. She did not want him to fret. Strangely, despite all that had happened, she wanted to find her comfort in him, to celebrate with him, to know precisely what he’d thought ofeverything up until the moment of the police arriving.
“I’m sure I look wretched,” she said. “It only aches a little.” After a moment, she exhaled a small laugh. “Hurt damned good when it happened, though.”
Sebastian seemed to pale a little at the memory. “I want to see that man hang.”
“I myself would prefer it if he did not. Though I wouldn’t mind if perhaps his horse stepped on his foot or something.”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow at her sudden good humor, then smiled, seemingly against all odds. “I’m sure I can arrange that, too.”
They fell into another short silence as the sound of heavy footsteps passed by in the hall outside, reminding them once again of their dire circumstances.
“I am so sorry that it ended like this,” Sebastian said, his voice quieter than she had ever heard it before.
Augusta didn’t quite know what to say to that. What exactly could one say when they found themselves imprisoned with the person who had become their everything? Their tormenter. Their lover. The only person in the world whose approval they wanted.
She tucked her hair behind her ear, as if that could somehow salvage her appearance. “It may be a little gauche to ask this now, but…how was I?”
