“I wish I knew, but perhaps it is something that will prove my innocence.” She stepped closer to the bars, hesitation clear in the working of her jaw. “Will you go there? To the old stone gate? Will you look for what is buried?” She pressed her lips tight, a sign that her pleading had cost her some dignity.
“No.” He shook his head, a slow grin teasing across his mouth. “We will go there together.”
She snorted. “That might be a bit difficult for me at the moment.”
“Then I shall have you released at once.” A smile lifted his lips, then faltered as his gaze passed over her. Shadows hung like sharp sickles beneath her eyes. Her chestnut hair had lost all lustre.
Exhausted hollows stood out in stark contrast to her cheekbones. This was his fault. All of it.
Gently, he pried her fingers from the bars, enfolding her cold hands in his own. A bird couldn’t have felt more fragile. Ever so tenderly, he chafed warmth back into her skin, aching at thesmallness of her hands and the way she trembled beneath his touch.
“I never should have allowed you to be brought here in the first place.” Regret stuck in his throat.
“No, you shouldn’t have.” She huddled closer to the bars, a sudden sheen of tears glistening in her eyes. “But, as much as I hate to be here, it has worked out for good, for I have finally found peace.”
Emotion clung to her lashes, but her poise never faltered.
His brow scrunched. “How so?”
White teeth flashed as she nibbled her lower lip, almost as if the action would summon the right words to the surface. Eventually, she peered up at him, a new confidence in the set of her jaw. “The truth is that for too long I have allowed myself to be bound by the past—by bitterness, fear, the need to survive on my own. It all caught up to me in here, and I … well, I suppose I finally realized I do not have to define myself by the measure of what has been done to me, but by the measure of what God has done for me.”
“Oh, Juliet.” He shuddered. “I should have been here at your side, fighting this battle with you, not against you.”
“You cannot stand between me and God. This was something I had to work out alone with Him, and I fear I never would have had I not been forced into captivity.” A radiant smile broke across her lips, so brilliant it outshone the torches lining the walls. “All is well now, truly. I mean that.”
He believed her without question, for there was a new light shining in her eyes—and it wasn’t from the flickering flames. Somehow, like Job himself, she’d found peace from God. A gift, despite being on the wrong side of the bars.
While the true villain yet roamed free.
He pulled away, exhaling sharply. “Then let’s get you out of here, shall we?”
“You mean—?”
He pressed a finger to her lips, the softness nearly driving him mad. “I mean I was a fool to ever doubt you, and I will never make that mistake again.” His hand brushed her cheek, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “I shall speak to the magistrate at once and return posthaste.”
Without another word, he whipped around, his boots thudding against the stone as he strode to the turnkey. Minutes later, he remounted his horse and rode for the magistrate’s house, despising the rain that slowed him.
Despising even more when the magistrate’s butler told him the man had gone to London and would not return until late that night. Blast. Juliet, already worn by three days in that stinking cell, would have to suffer another eternal night.
Gripping the reins tighter, he turned towards home, determined it would be her last night in that rathole. Ever. If that note were true, he could prove her innocence and possibly unveil the tormentor at last.
By the time he reached Bedford Manor and fetched Carver, he was soaked through, his coat a second skin. But so be it. He had a mission to accomplish. The wind howled through the trees, branches rattling like bones all the way to the southeast corner of the estate where the crumbling remnants of moss-covered stone pillars were all that remained of a forgotten gate. He swung off his mount and grabbed his shovel before Carver caught up to him.
Working together, scoop after scoop began to scar the earth. Over and over again. Rain filled the hollows. Mud splattered them both from head to toe.
And they found nothing.
Enraged, he dug all the more furiously, churning up muck and stone until his muscles quivered. Minutes stretched to hours. And Carver, God love him, plugged away at his side.
But still nothing. All he unearthed was a massive load of frustration.
Until at last, he hurled aside his shovel and howled up at the stormy sky.
Had someone else already been here and dug up whatever truth that note had hinted at? He dropped to his knees, pounding a fist into the mud. Someone had been here. Someone knew. And now the hope of finding whoever was behind all this mess was gone.
Chapter 23
Strange how life could change in twenty-four hours. One day your heart soars with hope, then lies broken and bleeding the next. Juliet sat on the rock-hard cot, twisting the fabric of her skirt into little puckers. Fretting the material. Fraying her nerves. Why had Henry not yet returned? He’d said he believed in her innocence, and she believed that he did.
