Sighing, he approached the bars and waited. Still dressed in the clothes he’d put on six days ago when he’d gone to get married, he felt like hell. There had been no chance to bathe along the way, no opportunity for privacy. He’d slept in the same room as the two men his uncle had hired to guard him, which meant he’d barely slept at all.
A soft feminine tread accompanied by the firm clip of men’s boots approached. Blayne shrugged. He supposed the prosecutor’s clerk could be a woman. But when Charlotte’s lovely face materialized before him, he was forced to blink several times just to make sure she was real. It wasn’t possible, yet there she was with Marcus by her side. Her smile was brittle, but it held as she reached out and clasped his hand through between the bars.
“It is so good to see you again,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Stepping closer, she pressed up against the bars so she could kiss him. “I’ve been so terribly worried and concerned for your wellbeing, Blayne.”
His heart thrummed in response to her sweet caress. “Ye ken now that’s not my name, lass.”
“It always will be to me.” She took a step back. “Unless you prefer I call you James.”
He shook his head. “Why are ye here?”
“To get you out of this mess so you and I can get on with our plans.”
A startled laugh escaped him. “I’m going to hang for murder. My God, Marcus, whatever were ye thinking, bringing her all the way to Scotland?”
“It was actually she who brought me,” Marcus said.
“I tried to bring Guthrie,” Charlotte said, “but he and Regina have recently learned they’re expecting, so he was reluctant to leave her side. Besides, Marcus has been meaning to travel to Scotland anyway in order to visit the university. This seemed like a good opportunity.”
“Naturally, my intention is to help you first,” Marcus said. “The rest can be handled once we’ve seen to your release.”
“Guthrie’s going to be a father?” Blayne found the notion strangely amusing.
“Never mind that. Right now, we need to focus on stopping your uncle from accomplishing his nefarious goal.” Charlotte raised her chin. “We’ve spoken to your mother from whom we’ve learnt a great deal – things I’m sure you are not aware of.”
Baffled by her expediency, Blayne could only stare at Charlotte in wonder while she continued to tell him all manner of things, like how his mother could no longer speak after what had happened, how his father used to beat her, and how she’d been denied any chance at defending herself or Blayne.
“I am convinced a competent solicitor can have this entire case torn to pieces before it’s even launched,” Charlotte continued. “After all, your father was the one who murdered Mr. Hollander. You yourself only struck your father with the candelabra as a last resort, and you did so in order to save your mother’s life. The fact that her larynx was crushed just proves she would have died had you not interfered when you did.”
“I can scarcely credit the lengths ye’re willing to go to on my behalf,” Blayne murmured as tears crept into his eyes. He did not want her to see him weak, but it couldn’t really be helped. She’d completely undone him.
“Would you not do the same for me?” she asked with a wry smile that knocked his heart into higher gear.
“Of course I would, lass, but—”
“Well, there you are then.” She squeezed his hand. “I love you, and in spite of all the concerns you must have had over me discovering all of this, it doesn’t change how I feel. If anything, it makes me furious on your behalf and on your mother’s as well. What the two of you had to endure because of those two horrid men is beyond the pale.”
“I never knew Papa hit her, although I suppose I should have realized the sort of man who’d whip his son would have no trouble with laying his hand on his wife.”
“My only reproach against you, Blayne, is that you never wrote her. All these years, she thought you were dead.”
“I never knew that, but ye’re right, I should have sent word. I was just so afraid my uncle would intercept my letter and track me down.” He’d known Seamus would stop at nothing and as it turned out, he hadn’t. Even after nineteen years, Blayne remained an obsession to him – an opponent who had to be gotten rid of.
“I know, and I do believe she’ll forgive you for that reason. I certainly will.”
“When we arrived here,” Marcus said, “we were fortunate enough to overhear a conversation between a couple of gentlemen. One was clearly a solicitor and since he sounded like a competent fellow, I asked him for his card. We’ll head to his office as soon as we’ve finished speaking with you.”
Against his better judgment, hope bloomed in Blayne’s chest. Winning in a battle against Seamus would be no easy task. He could not allow himself to believe it possible until it actually happened. All the same, he pulled Charlotte closer so he could kiss her again. “Thank ye, lass. I’ll never forget what ye’ve done for me.”
“I’d do it again a thousand times over,” she promised. “No man gets to ruin my wedding without facing the consequence.”
Blayne grinned and kissed her one last time before she and Marcus left.
Mr. Richmond was an older gentleman with a grave disposition – the sort who looked like he’d scowl in response to a joke rather than laugh. He was precisely the sort of thoughtful person Charlotte wanted in Blayne’s corner.
“Tell me all you know,” Mr. Richmond said once they were seated in his office. His voice was slightly gruff, but lacked the distinctive brogue Charlotte had grown accustomed to from the Scotts. “Don’t leave anything out. Remember, even a seemingly insignificant detail can prove useful.”
Charlotte began. She related how she and Blayne had met, who he’d pretended to be for most of his life, why he’d taken a false identity, how and why he’d killed his father, and his uncle’s subsequent lies absolving his brother of all wrongdoing. “Seamus Callanach insisted James was dead.”
