Jeremy hung his head. “Nay, Miss Sophia.”
“Look at me, Jeremy.” Sophia raised his face to hers with a nudge to his chin. “Did you steal anything from Mr. Sharpe?”
Jeremy sucked in a shaky breath. “Nay, miss.”
“Then you’re not a bad man, Jeremy, no matter what the man said. You haven’t done anything wrong. This is all a dreadful mistake. We’ve come to help you.” She took his hand in hers and began to gently chafe his wrists to force theblood to flow.
Jeremy made a hoarse, rusty noise that sounded, incredibly, like a laugh. “Ye shouldna have come ’ere, Miss Sophia. This isn’t a good place for ye, and there ain’t no help for menow, no ways.”
“Don’t say that, sweetheart. Lady Clifford would tell you it’s never too late for anything, wouldn’t she?” More words rushed to Sophia’s lips—arguments, denials, reassurances—but she couldn’t force them past her lips, because they felt like lies. No matter what Lady Clifford said, the odds were against Jeremy surviving even another few nights in Newgate.
Tears started to her eyes, and it was all she could do to hold them back. Dear God, how could they have done this to Jeremy? How could they do this to anyone? Guilty or innocent, no man deserved to die in this place, like this.
“I didna do it, Miss Sophia. I didna hurt that man.” Jeremy caught her hand in his, grasping it weakly. “Ye’ll tell Lady Clifford an’ Mr. Daniel I didna do it? An’ Miss Cecilia and Miss Emma, and Miss Georgiana? Ye’ll tell ’em I didna do it,and I’m sorry—”
“Hush, now. They know you didn’t do it, sweetheart. No one is angry at you. Now, let’s clean you up a bit, because I’ve brought someone to see you today.” Sophia took a clean square of white linen from her pocket, wiped Jeremy’s eyes, then gave the cloth to him. “This gentleman hereis Lord Gray.”
Jeremy turned wide, guileless blue eyes on Lord Gray, then ducked his head to whisper to Sophia, “Ye brought me a lord?”
Sophia smiled. “I did, yes. Lord Gray is an earl.”
Instead of cleaning his face, Jeremy used the handkerchief to scrub at a place next to him on the stone floor. When he was finished, he turned bravely back to Lord Gray. “How do ye do, my lord? Will ye sit down?”
Sophia held her breath, dreading the moment when Lord Gray would coldly refuse Jeremy’s invitation, but to her surprise he crossed the cell and crouched down next to Jeremy. “Thank you, Jeremy.”
“Jeremy,” Sophia began, brushing a filthy, ragged clump of hair away from his face. “Lord Gray and I need you tell us as much as you can remember about what happened that night in St. Clement Dane’s churchyard.”
Jeremy gave her an apprehensive look. “I don’t know how to talk to a lord, Miss Sophia.”
“You needn’t worry, sweetheart. Lord Gray will be good to you. How did you happen to be in St. Clement Dane’s churchyard so late that night?” The judge had asked Jeremy the same question at the trial yesterday, but he’d been too frightened to give more than a stammering, incoherent answer.
Jeremy gave her an uncertain look. “I weren’t doing nothing wrong. I were just passing through the churchyard.”
“All right,” Sophia agreed with a reassuring smile. “And where were you before that? What had you been doing?”
Jeremy’s brow pinched, as if he were trying hard to remember. “I were at the Turk’s Head.”
Sophia’s stomach dropped. Patrick Dunn had been coming from the Turk’s Head the night Peter Sharpe accused him of theft. Itcouldbe a coincidence—the Turk’s Head was a quick walk from St. Clement Dane’s Church—but the coincidences were piling up in a way that wasn’t coincidental at all. “You mean the coffeehouse on the Strand, Jeremy?”
“Aye, miss.”
Sophia exchanged a look with Lord Gray. “Do you go thereoften, Jeremy?”
Jeremy shook his head. “Nay. I were only there that once.”
“All right. How did you happen to go there that night?” The Turk’s Head was a lively place, popular with London’s political set, and always crowded with young radicals and reformers. It was likely Jeremy had just been attracted by the noise, but if someone had lured him there…
Jeremy’s lower lip began to wobble. “I-I’m a bad man, Miss Sophia.”
“No, Jeremy.” Sophia pressed his hand. “I already told you you’re not, and I’ve never lied to you, have I?”
“Nay, Miss Sophia.” Tears streaked down Jeremy’s cheeks, but he bravely met Sophia’s eyes. “There were a lady in there, with yellow hair, an’ I thought—she were pretty, Miss Sophia, so I went in, but I didna do anything wrong. I didna touch her. I just wanted to see hercloser, like.”
“It’s all right, Jeremy. Did this lady talk to you? Did she ask you to go into the coffeehouse with her? Invite you to follow her?” Jeremy’s mind was as innocent as a child’s, but he had a man’s body, with all the attendant physical urges. If someone was trying to lure him into the Turk’s Head, a pretty lady would be an effective way to do it.
But Jeremy shook his head. “Nay. She didna notice me. There were a lot ofpeople about.”
Sophia blew out a breath. It sounded straightforward enough. “That’s fine, sweetheart.”
