Page 72 of Disciplined by the Duke
“Me too.” Sutton lifted his mug in a salute.
Rothchild sighed. “Me three.”
They all waited for Summerset. He lifted his head from a spot on his sleeve he was scratching at. “Oh, I didn’t think it needed to be vocalized. But all for one or whatnot.”
Marcus shook his head. He leveled one broad palm in their direction. “Liz, meet my friends. God help me.”
“Gentlemen, one could almost think that His Grace doesn’t appreciate us.” Summerset brought a lilac pocket square to his nose and sniffed delicately.
“I would appreciate my friends more if we could actually get down to business.” Marcus reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the letter with the purple seal. “Sutton, can you take this to Liverpool? No messengers. He already knows the contents, but he should hold the original. Hand it to him directly.” Sutton nodded and slipped the missive inside his coat.
“What about us?” Rothchild asked.
“Nothing for now. I’ll notify you if needed.” Marcus fumbled in his pocket and drew out some coin, tossing it on the table.
“Or we could go with you to Newgate.” Summerset cocked his head. “I’ve always been curious to see inside the place. And if we’re going to conduct a prison break I’ll need to get a feel for the place beforehand. Get an idea for an appropriate disguise and all that.”
Rothchild snorted. “God, it always comes down to clothes for you, doesn’t it?”
Marcus stood, forestalling any further arguments. He pulled out her chair and helped Liz to her feet. “Whoever wants to come can come. But we’re leaving now.”
The other men pushed to their feet, chairs scraping against the floor. At the door, the Baron of Sutton turned right and climbed into a carriage waiting for him a half a block up the street. The carriage turned towards Parliament.
Marcus helped Liz up into his landau. When he moved to shut the door, a lime green sleeve popped through the opening, holding it ajar.
“Oh, we’ll ride with you if you don’t mind.” Summerset, Dunkeld, and Rothchild climbed into the conveyance, forcing Liz and Marcus to scoot to the other end of the bench seats. The carriage’s springs groaned in protest. “I, for one, would love the opportunity to become better acquainted with Miss Wilcox.”
“There’s no need for that,” Marcus growled. The four men soon were arguing with one another, as only close friends can, but Liz stopped listening. She watched London roll by from the window, no landmark remaining in her view long enough to let her feel centered.
Was there no need for his friends to get to know her because one didn’t become acquainted with a duke’s mistress? Her shoulders drooped. No matter. They would assist her and Marcus in freeing Mandy, and that was all that signified.
The prison loomed into view, and the carriage pulled to a stop in front of the gatehouse. Marcus helped her down and led her to the door, pounding his fist against it. Summerset sniffed delicately, the odors emanating from the prison muted but still impossible to ignore. Liz sympathized, but shook her head. Wait until he got inside. He hadn’t smelled anything yet.
The door swung open, and Mr. Mason filled the entrance. His pale face sagged in relief when he saw her. “Miss Wilcox, you got my message. I didn’t think you would in time.”
A pit opened in her stomach. “What message? I’ve just come to visit my sister.”
Mason’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Ahh. Well. I sent you a message to tell you the news. I thought you’d want to be with her, is all. It seemed only right that she not be alone for it.”
“Alone for what?” Her voice sounded high, even to her own ears. She reached out and grabbed the man’s arm. “What was the message?”
Marcus stepped forward, and put an arm around her waist to steady her. “I am the Duke of Montague. I’ve come to meet Miss Amanda Wilcox. Where is she?”
The guard gaped at him like a dying fish. “Yer Grace . . . well, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. Miss Wilcox ain’t here no more.” He turned sad eyes on Liz and shook his head. “I’m sorry, miss, but she was sent off not more than an hour ago to Tyburn. She’s to be hanged today.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
If Marcus’s arm hadn’t been banded around her waist her knees would have hit the ground. Liz’s mind blanked, the sights and sounds of the world around her disappearing, a numbness creeping over her. She wanted to sink into it, block out every problem, be swallowed by the darkness.
Marcus’s voice cut through the haze. “Summerset, I need you to go to the Old Bailey, get a formal stay on the execution. Take Miss Wilcox home on your way.” He bustled her back towards his carriage.
The driver opened the door and Liz briefly thought of allowing Marcus to hand her in. It would be nice to go back to his town house, sit before a fire, and pretend none of this was actually happening.
Her shoulder blades drew together. Mandy was her sister, her responsibility. She dug her heels into the dirt. “No. I’m going to Tyburn. I must stop this.”
Marcus put one finger under her chin. “I’ll go to Tyburn. I will stop this if . . .”
“If it isn’t already too late.” She swallowed past the ache in her throat, but could do nothing to ease the knifing pain in her heart.