Page 80 of To Resist a Scandalous Rogue
“Mrs. Taylor, what a surprise.”
Despite the stone that dropped into her stomach, Charlotte managed to gain her seat, taking a moment to smooth her skirts and raise her chin. “Why should you be surprised? You know I do not have the funds.”
“And the Campbells wouldn’t help you? And your Lord Firthwell? Did he not think enough of you to give you the money?” Mr. Townsend scoffed. “My, Mrs. Taylor, apparently you didn’t make the viscount as happy as he’s accustomed to being.”
Disgust congealed in her throat, and she looked at him with narrowed eyes. “You are vile.”
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I just assumed you’d do what needed to be done to repay your debt.”
Although she could barely keep herself from trembling she said, “There is no debt, and you know it.”
“I’m honestly shocked you’ve surrendered so easily. You’ve always been”—he wrinkled his nose—“crafty.”
Fighting the urge to curl her shoulders forward to shrink from his taunting tone, Charlotte instead threw them back. “I think it rather sad you find enemies wherever you look. We both know your actions caused me to sell the ring. I’m confident a magistrate will agree.”
Smacking his hands on his thighs, Townsend leaned forward, spearing her with a taunting smirk. “Then let’s meet with the magistrate, shall we.”
After bouncing along for several minutes, the carriage halted, and Charlotte gripped the edge of the squab with stiff fingers. They had come to a stop in front of the Public Offices on Bow Street. She did not have time to draw breath before she was bundled out the door with rough hands, up narrow stairs, and down a cramped hall into a middling-sized chamber that smelled faintly of sweat and heavily of cigar smoke.
An older, heavily-jowled gentleman sat at a large desk littered with papers and folders, two assistants hovering behind him. The scene reminded her of a Faustian-inspired sketch she’d seen depicting an angel and devil perched on a man’s shoulders, tempting him to sin and keeping him from it in equal measure.
At their entrance, the man looked up, his small eyes landing on Charlotte with an uncomfortable intensity. “Townsend. Have you found her, then?”
“I have, Your Worship. She has agreed to be cooperative.”
Catching Charlotte above her elbow, Townsend thrust her forward. Fear melded in her throat as she met the magistrate’s eyes.
“Mr. Townsend claims you sold a ring belonging to his family. Did you?”
“My husband, Mr. Townsend’s son, gave me the ring,” she began, stopping when the old man held up his hand.
“I asked if you sold the ring.”
“I did but—”
“Very well.” Pointing to the door, the magistrate glanced at the secretary who stood on his left. “Have the constable see her to Newgate.”
Charlotte stumbled back a step, a sudden case of vertigo knocking her off balance.
Newgate?
Surely he would give her a chance to explain what had occurred after Roderick’s death. But she was yanked backward, and she jerked her head to meet the cool gray eyes of a large man in a constable uniform.
“Don’t I have a right to explain what occurred?” she implored, struggling to free her arm from the constable’s hold. He remained unmoved and soon grasped her other arm, twisting it behind her back. Tears filled her eyes as pain shot up her limbs.
“Of course,” the magistrate answered, not looking up from the papers on his desk. “There will be a trial. Probably in a week. Most likely more. You can present your argument then.”
“A week?” she exclaimed, her voice shrill.
“That’s what I said. Now, Constable, if you don’t mind, I have other business to see to.” Gesturing with his chin to the door, he dismissed Charlotte as if she were a leftover bit of toast on his breakfast plate.
As the constable hustled her out the door and back down the narrow corridor, Charlotte could barely see where they were going through the tears blinding her vision. But Mr. Townsend’s voice was an irritant she could not block out.
“I swore to Mrs. Townsend that I would see you punished for everything you did to harm our family.” Her former father-in-law’s heavy footsteps echoed ominously behind her. “For all the ways you took advantage of Roderick and separated him from us. Newgate is exactly where you belong.”
Charlotte had experienced desperate circumstances in her life, the memories of which shadowed every step she took and every move she made. The echo of that hopelessness was swept away in the rush of terror and despair she felt after she was pushed from the constable’s carriage and looked up at the towering, rusty gate that served as the entrance to Newgate.
How could you be so foolish?
