“Er.” She untangled herself from his arms and the bars. “That’s a slight problem, Kenny.”
“Yes, I know! They’ve held me here for a week! The food is wretched and there are rats. Rats! I saw one try to steal my bread last night.” He sent a glance toward one corner of his cell and edged farther into the bars, gripping them like the other prisoners. “And the Middlesex murderer is somewhere in the prison. What if he murders me in my sleep? The guards mutter about him all the time. They’ve even forgotten to feed me meals because of him.” His stomach rumbled. “About time they nabbed the bastard, though I can’t say that I agree with them lessening my rations because of it.”
She took a firm look at her brother, who was inhaling deeply after spewing that all out in one breath. He didn’tseemto be suffering from insanity. “Kenny, you know why you are here, don’t you?”
He waved a hand. “They think I killed someone. Ha. As if I can stand the sight of blood.” He shuddered. “Knew they’d discover their mistake sooner or later. But it’s been a week! Outrageous. Where is the key?”
He looked so expectant that all she could do was blink. A hand came through the bars to grip her arm. “Marietta?”
She didn’t know how it happened, but she suddenly found herself disengaged from Kenny, with her brother holding his fingers in pain. Noble’s hand fell from her arm before she even realized it was there.
“Ouch. What was that for? Who are you?” Kenny asked, sucking one suspiciously clean finger into his mouth.
“That is of little concern to you. Do you really expect us to believe that you are that clueless as to why you are imprisoned?” Noble asked.
Kenny looked bewildered. Poor boy had never been the brightest tulip. “I’ve been falsely arrested, and Marietta has come to save me?”
There was so much hope in his face and she hated to be the one to ruin it.
“Yes, your sister has come to save you,” Noble said, surprising her. “Little though you seem to deserve it.”
Kenny’s eyes widened. He had always made friends so easily, unlike her. “I didn’t kill that woman. No one can believe I did.”
“Not only do they believe you killed her, but they think you killed two other women as well.”
Perhaps he wasn’t the quickest man, but Kenny wasn’t terminally stupid. Comprehension turned to horror. “They think I’m the Middlesex murderer?”
Marietta moved to touch him and noticed Noble shift his position. “Kenny, you are in real trouble. Haven’t you noticed?”
He chewed his lip. “I thought they were keeping me away from the others. The guards mostly avoid me. Do they really believe that of me? Does—” his voice lowered. “Does anyone else know?”
Marietta swallowed. “Yes.”
“No,” he whispered. He obviously read all that she wasn’t saying in her one word reply.
Marietta examined her sturdy slippers. “You need to help us, Kenny. It’s the only way we can get you released.”
“Have you sent for a barrister?”
Her lips compressed. “Yes, but one is of little use in these types of cases.”
She had read the laws as she’d promised herself. Noble had been right, damn it.
“But then, what—what is going to—”
“You can answer our questions, for a start.” Noble’s tone was cold, but he didn’t look as completely unapproachable as he had the first night she’d met him. “What were you doing around the White Stag when you were arrested?”
Kenny sent her a questioning glance, his face a mirror of the sharp planes and dark circled brown eyes she had sported before eating Mrs. Rosaire’s hearty stews. Though unlike her, his wide eyes made him look comically innocent. Marietta had a vague stirring of hope that a jury would see him that way too. She nodded encouragingly in response.
He ran a hand through his dirty hair and it stood on end. “Mark and Marietta were fighting again. Just had to get out of there.”
Marietta bit her lip, the flare of hope quickly firing into guilt.
“I walked for a while. Passed a number of taverns—there wasn’t much action in any of them and they lacked friendly faces. Headed east. I had a few pence on me.” He looked sheepishly at Marietta. Mark had distributed their “pin” money with the new clothing items they couldn’t afford—part of the reason for the fight in the first place.
“There was a raucous tavern. I could see it from a block away. Looked perfect. So I headed for it. Wasn’t three strides to enter when I heard a noise. Like the tap of metal against stone. Someone screamed, ‘You!’ There was this weird sound. Like the screech of a cat.”
His eyes pinched together. “I walked around and toward the sound. A woman was lying there. Then everything went black. I woke up in a puddle of blood with a knot the size of a grapefruit on my skull.”
