Pain tore up his arm. He clenched his jaw, bit back a curse, blinking away the welling moisture in his eyes. He did not want his guard lured down here by a noise.
Awkwardly, he wiped his face on his upper sleeve. The shovel fell to the flagstones with a clang.
Hell.
He listened. A muffled silence greeted his ears. It was like being entombed alive, or how he imagined being entombed alive. Dark, silent, damp and cold, with the only noise his rasping breath and pounding heart.
Don’t think, you idiot. Just get this bloody rope off. He scrabbled among the lumps of coal for his shovel.
The back stairs creaked beneath Frederica’s feet as she felt for each step with her foot. Creeping around Wynchwood in the dark was something she had done as a child, looking for food when sent to bed without supper for some transgression or other. Tonight it seemed far scarier, far more risky with so many strangers in the house and something other than food on her mind. Robert.
A thief. He hadn’t offered one word of explanation after the gems’ discovery, once Lullington muttered something in his ear. He’d stood there, sullen and angry, the very picture of guilt.
Her stomach heaved again. Was that why he’d befriended her, made love to her? So he could steal from her family?
Had she been so utterly taken in?
And here she was planning to set up on her own. If she was so easily duped, here in a house where she was protected, how would she manage on her own?
Whatever he was, whatever he’d done, she wanted the truth. Deep in her heart, she prayed there was some explanation.
Frederica tiptoed along the passage toward a sliver of light cast on the flagstones by the ajar kitchen door. Knowing William, she’d find him taking his ease by the fire instead of standing on guard outside a locked cellar door. Her tale of noises below her chamber window and fears of a possible accomplice should send the footman out into the night chasing shadows, wanting to satisfy her foolish womanly fears.
If she played her part right.
With shaking fingers, she pulled her wrap closer about her and pushed the door open. The figure on the settle by the hearth straightened. Sharp eyes observed her over a tankard.
She stared at him, mouth agape. ‘Mr Snively?’
‘I wondered how long it would be before you put in an appearance,’ Snively said.
She winced. ‘I thought William was guarding the prisoner.’
He set his mug down on the hearthstone. ‘I sent him to bed with a belly full of his lordship’s best porter.’
‘Oh.’
‘Come to see Robert, have you? You’ve been getting far too close to that young man, you have.’
Nothing slipped past Mr Snively. ‘I wanted to speak to him. Ask him what happened.’ She twined her fingers together. ‘I just can’t believe he would do such a thing.’
‘No more do I,’ Snively said. ‘That there lass and the viscount are up to something.’
‘Lady Caldwell, you mean?’
‘I do, Miss Wynchwood. There have been some latenight visitations between those two. And the way his lordship looked at Robert Deveril, I could see there was bad blood between them. Old bad blood, or my name’s not Joshua Snively.’
A little bud of hope unfurled in Frederica’s chest. ‘Do you think they put the jewels in his pocket to make him look guilty?’ She frowned. It didn’t make sense, or answer the question of how they knew Robert. Or why they would deliberately incriminate him? Or why he’d let them? But it was a relief to know that Mr Snively shared her doubts. She plunked down on to a chair. ‘What should we do?’
‘If he runs, he’ll never prove his innocence. If he is innocent, that is. He’ll be a hunted man.’
Frederica’s blood chilled. ‘What is the alternative?’
‘Damned if I know,’ Snively said, scratching at his chin. ‘If he stays, he’ll hang for sure.’
She couldn’t bear the thought of Robert being hanged, even if she was his dupe. ‘Then we must set him free.’
He nodded. ‘We’ve another matter to discuss too, miss. This business of your betrothal. You don’t want to marry Master Simon, do you?’
Even though she’d hinted to Snively that she had no desire to marry her cousin, astonishment didn’t begin to describe the emotion whirling in her head to hear Snively speak so boldly of family matters.
He narrowed his eyes. ‘If you do, I’ll say no more.’
Frederica found her tongue. ‘No. I do not want to marry my cousin.’
‘Ah. Fair shook the wind out of my sails when I heard the announcement, it did.’ He glowered. ‘Something’s gone wrong. Your uncle received a letter from Bliss two days ago. I’m thinking it’s behind this rush to marry you off.’
‘Who is Bliss?’
‘A London lawyer with information of interest. I can’t say any more.’
Could he sound any more mysterious? ‘I don’t have time for this now.’
‘It’s important.’
‘I can’t see how it is more important than a man’s life.’
‘You would if you knew,’ Snively muttered.
‘Knew what?’ She felt like screaming—he was being so secretive.
‘I’m not at liberty to say, miss. Not yet. But something has to be done.’
It did and it would. She was leaving for London. Tomorrow. She’d use the first instalment from her drawings and buy a passage to Italy. The publisher could forward the rest of her money to Florence.
In the meantime, she had to do something about Robert. ‘Can you saddle Pippin and leave him at the gate? I will talk to Robert and explain that running is his only course.’
‘I doubt he’ll need any encouragement,’ Snively said. ‘I’ll do as you bid, miss, but you and I needs to talk after.’
‘First thing in the morning.’
‘You’ll need these.’ He handed her a candle, a knife and a key. ‘Tell him to be as far from here as possible by morning. And he’s to keep mum about your part in letting him go.’
Frederica felt her jaw drop. This was not the man she knew, the stiff and starchy Wynchwood butler. Not only had his accent changed, his personality had undergone a metamorphosis. It was all very odd. But right now she didn’t have time to think of anything except Robert and securing his freedom.
She dashed down the cellar steps to the coal room. At the door she paused to listen.
‘R-Robert?’ she whispered through the keyhole.
A metallic clang and then a crunching sound emanated from the other side of the door.
‘R-Robert. It is Frederica. Can you hear me?’
‘I can indeed.’ He sounded impatient. ‘Go back to bed.’
‘I’m going to open the door.’
‘All right,’ he said slowly.
The key turned easily in the lock. The bolt was stiff in its hasp and she flinched every time the metal squeaked, despite knowing no one could hear. The moment it shot back, the door flew open.
Blinking, Robert stood in the doorway illuminated in the light of her candle. Coal dust streaked his face and his eyes were red-rimmed.
‘I-I…Are