“No, but your nerves are on edge, and we can’t afford to have you make a careless slip. Newgate runs by its own rules. A wrong move will cut off any access to Locke, even with Griffin calling in favors.”
She nodded, but made no reply. Another sign that Charlotte wasn’t herself.
He leaned back against the squabs, content to let the rest of the journey pass in silence. She would need all of her strength for the ordeal ahead.
After a last jolting turn, wheels clattering over the uneven cobblestones, the carriage finally rolled to a halt. The grey day felt even darker with the oppressive stone bulk of the prison looming over them. Wrexford didn’t dare shoot a glance atCharlotte to catch her reaction. He passed through the main portal with quick, confident strides and demanded of the first gaoler he spotted to be taken to the warden on duty.
“Stay right behind me, lad,” he barked at Charlotte.
“Oiy, there’s many in here who wud snatch up a pretty cully like ye,” said the man with a nasty leer before turning to lead the way into a dark corridor reeking of urine. “And even iffen His Nibs found ye, he wouldn’t want what wuz left of ye.”
The stench grew even more overpowering as they made their way deeper into the bowels of the prison. The gloom grew thicker, and from some unseen block of cells, a cacophony of screams and demented laughter reverberated against the unyielding stones. Wrexford had known what to expect. He wondered if Charlotte fully understood the horrors that lurked within these walls.
Another turn brought them to a small windowed office overlooking one of the inner courtyards. The warden, a greasy-haired fellow with a beaky nose and reptilian eyes, read over the papers from Bow Street that the earl thrust into his hands.
“Locke, eh?” He looked up with a sniff.
Smelling the scent of money, no doubt.
“Now,” snapped Wrexford, curling a hand around the purse in his pocket.
“Doesn’t say anything here about two visitors. Why’s the lad with you?”
In answer, the earl slowly lifted up the soft chamois bag. The weight of gold guineas made a very distinctive ring. “Take me to Locke.”
The warden smiled, revealing two missing teeth, and plucked the purse from Wrexford’s palm. “Burley,” he bellowed, “escort these gentlemen to the Golden Beauty’s cell.”
More darkness, more filth, more screams.
At last, the gaoler stopped in front of a heavy iron door andshoved a massive key into the lock. Metal scraped against metal, and the mechanism released with a groan.
“I’ll be back in a quarter hour,” warned the gaoler as he pushed the door open with his boot. “Be ready te move yer pegs quick-like. Ye can’t linger.” Once the two of them entered the cell, he slammed it shut and relocked it.
Charlotte waited until the footsteps were swallowed by the other prison noises before taking a step toward the narrow cot, where a figure lay curled like a hedgehog, a threadbare blanket pulled up over his head and shoulders.
“Nicky?” she said softly.
A pitiful moan shivered through the ragged wool. “Be damned with you, Lucifer—stop plaguing me with such devil-cursed dreams!”
“Nicky.” Charlotte crouched down and pulled the blanket down, revealing a tangle of pale gold hair. “Come, rouse yourself. It’s no dream. I need to talk with you and we haven’t much time.”
Wrexford watched as a pair of muck-encrusted boots scrabbled free of the blanket. After slowly twisting up to a sitting position, Nicholas Locke slumped back against the stone wall and blinked in confusion. “C-C-Charley? Oh my God, i-is it really you?”
She gripped his shoulders and gave him a shake. “Yes!” Leaning closer, she spoke with a rapid-fire urgency, punctuating her words with a light slap to his cheek.
The earl kept his distance, allowing her a private exchange with the prisoner before they began their questioning. Charlotte hadn’t yet clarified her relationship to Locke, and much as he was curious, he wasn’t going to ask.
He didn’t hear what she said, but Locke seemed to shake off his lethargy. His gaze became more alert.
“Come join us, sir.” Her brusque wave indicated the lone stool set near the sliver of window.
As Wrexford shoved it closer to the cot and took a seat, Charlotte added, “I assume I have you to thank for the amenities. Be assured I shall pay you back.”
Ah, so she did know the sordid details of Newgate. Prisoners had to pay through the nose for even the barest necessities, otherwise they slept on the cold stone, half-starved and surrounded by their own filth. For those without money, incarceration could be a death sentence in itself.
“The wheels of graft move slowly at first.” Wrexford gave a sardonic smile. “By evening, Mr. Locke will have better furnishings, along with decent food and drink.” A pause. “We shall settle up accounts after he’s released, but for now, let’s not waste our breath on such trivialities.”
Charlotte nodded. Steeling her features, she looked back at Locke. “We can’t afford to shilly-shally, Nicky, and in order to help you, I must know the truth, however grim. So I must ask you straightaway—did you kill Cedric?”
