Page 89 of The Rebellious Lady and the Phantom Lord
They were deep into the second act, when Phaedra felt James’s touch upon her hand, giving her the signal. She tried to ignore it, but the pressure of James’s hand became more insistent. She half-rose, starting to speak, then sank back down in despair.
She could sense James’s growing impatience, but before any of them could react, the door to their box was flung open. Much to Phaedra’s astonishment, Jonathan rushed in. She had never seen the somber man in such a state. Pale and wild-eyed, he seized her grandfather by the front of his coat, shaking him awake.
“Sawyer-Sawyer, for the love of God, you must leave.”
Her grandfather snorted, rubbing his eyes. “Eh, what? But the opera- it is not over.”
He tried to push Jonathan’s hands away, but the man would not release him. “Sawyer, you must leave London without delay and hide.”
“What the devil’s amiss?” Gilly said.
“Burnell’s gone completely mad,” Weylin groused, at the same time as Jonathan blurted out, “Jessym’s been arrested.”
Phaedra went cold. She avoided meeting Gilly’s eyes.
“Jessym?” her grandfather huffed. “That scoundrel of a publisher? Why, that’s nothing to me.”
But everything to me, Phaedra thought. She tried to shrink against James, seeking the support of his arm about her. But he seemed to have gone suddenly rigid.
Jonathan wrung his hands. “Blast it, Sawyer, don’t you understand? Jessym has been taken before the magistrates. To save himself from imprisonment, he has attempted to strike some sort of a bargain by offering them proof.”
“Proof of what?” her grandfather asked impatiently.
“The proof that you, Sawyer Weylin, are Robin Goodfellow.”
Twenty
Somewhere in the distance, Phaedra heard a rich baritone filling the theater with haunting notes of despair. But the tragedy unfolding on the stage below seemed remote, lost in the impact of Jonathan’s dramatic statement. Sawyer Weylin began to bluster, “Why, I’ll see Jessym hanged. The lying rogue. “
But Phaedra shot to her feet, cutting him off. “What sort of proof could Jessym have possibly produced against my grandfather?”
Jonathan gave her a pleading glance, as though begging her not to interfere. “I believe Jessym had packets of original drafts with Weylin’s seal upon them.”
Her missing drafts with her grandfather’s seal on them? No, this was madness. She glanced at Gilly to gauge his reaction and found him staring hard at James.
Her stomach tensed. James’s facial muscles had gone rigid, a strange light glowing in his blue eyes ... a light of-triumph?
“James.” His name escaped her lips in a despairing whisper.
But he didn’t seem to hear her. He was lost to her, as she had feared he would be, swept away by the dark currents of his revenge.
She bowed her head, trying to stem her tears. What a fool she had been, to ever think she could stay his hand! It was all painfully obvious now. He had taken her drafts, forged the seal, and then given them to Jessym, even while he had made arrangements for their elopement. Her love had not been enough for him.
Lost in her misery, Phaedra was only dimly aware of Jonathan dragging her grandfather out the door of the box. Weylin protested furiously enough to draw the attention of the entire theater.
“I’ll not skulk off anywhere. Damnation, I’m an innocent man.”
What vicious satisfaction her grandfather’s declaration must be giving James, Phaedra thought unhappily.
“But Weylin,” Jonathan said. “If you had but seen the crowds gathered outside the bailey. Many are still angered by that article Goodfellow wrote about the Catholics.”
“By God, I’ll roast the lot of them, starting with Jessym and his impertinent forgeries—” The rest of Weylin’s angry words were lost as Jonathan managed to hustle him into the hall.
“Not forgeries, Grandfather,” Phaedra said grimly as she started to go after him.
But Gilly barred her path, scowling. “Hold-your tongue, Fae.”
“Aye, your cousin is right.” Phaedra heard James’s steely voice near her ear. She felt him grip her arm. “This is not a prudent time for confessions.”
