Why? Apparently, it was the only word she knew.
“I want to marry you instead. I want to marry you right away. Will you have me?”
In huge, angry letters, she printed, NEVER IN A THOUSAND YEARS!!!
Chaos erupted in the foyer, as the front door was slammed open. There was girlish babbling, stomping of feet, his brother calling for Nicholas.
“Nan . . . Nell . . .” Emeline breathed, her voice sounding rusty and ruined.
She hastened out without a goodbye.
“Was that the last time you saw her?”
“Yes, milord.”
The housemaid from the vicarage simpered at the earl, trying to impress him with her testimony, and Oscar yearned to march over and throttle her.
They were in the local tavern, the tables removed and the chairs arranged into a makeshift courtroom. People were jammed to the rafters, the entire citizenry keen to have him brought low.
He was shackled to a bench, and because he kept interrupting, the earl had had him gagged. He could only intimidate with his eyes, which had no effect. The jurors assessed him with disdain.
If the consequences hadn’t been so dire, he might have laughed at the absurdity. It seemed like a bad dream, as if the debacle was happening to some other poor sot.
“Why did you leave Mrs. Merrick alone?” the earl asked the maid. “If you were afraid for her, why leave the parlor?”
“She ran up to her bedchamber,” the girl said, “and locked her door. Then I went to the kitchen, to discuss matters with the cook. We had a lengthy conversation, and when I resumed my duties, the vicar and Mrs. Merrick were both gone.”
“Did you see the vicar again that day?”
“No, and I stayed until after dark. He missed his supper.”
The crowd murmured with excitement. Oscar was renowned as a persnickety and punctual eater, and the fact that he’d skipped a meal sealed the general opinion that he was guilty. Their collective scowls inquired: Where had he been? Out in the woods, digging an unmarked grave?
Lord Stafford peered out at the gathering. “Is there anyone else who saw Mrs. Merrick after the quarrel with her brother? Anyone? If you’re here, speak up.”
There was grumbling and shuffling as the spectators glanced around, but Oscar hadn’t expected a response. Josephine had fled, but to where? Oscar had absolutely no clue, but no one would listen to him.
The earl nodded to his brother who stood behind Oscar, and Lt. Price removed Oscar’s gag.
“Well, Blair,” the earl said, “I’ll give you a final chance to come clean.”
“I have no idea what’s become of Josephine.” He was innocent of malfeasance and wouldn’t exhibit any remorse to a roomful of fools.
“If you didn’t kill her,” the earl pressed, “where is she? How would she have gotten there? Your maid testified that her belongings were all accounted for.”
“She vanished,” Oscar tightly replied, “but it was none of my doing. When I returned home that evening, I’d been robbed, the collection money taken. I assume she stole it and used it to finance her departure.” He glowered at the earl. “If you’re so intent on pursuing a criminal, I suggest you find her and restore the church’s funds to me.”
At Oscar’s comment, the observers gasped.
From the jury box, Mr. Templeton chided, “You’re blaming a dead woman for the missing money?”
“For shame,” several others muttered.
Lt. Price was particularly incensed. “Don’t you dare besmirch her memory.” He seized Oscar by his coat. “If you insult her again, you won’t have to wait for the hangman’s noose. I’ll kill you right here, right now.”
“That’s enough.” The earl interceded, and Lt. Price released his grip. The earl spun to the jury. “You’ve heard the evidence. What say all of you?”
To a man, the puppets he’d assembled shouted, “Guilty!”
“Thank you, gentlemen.” The earl’s stony gaze fell on Oscar. “Tell me where you buried her.”
“I didn’t,” Oscar insisted.
“You’ve been judged by your peers,” the earl spat. “Don’t make a mockery of their verdict.”
“Their decision means naught to me.”
“I’m sick of his whining,” Lt. Price told his brother. “Should I gag him again?”
“Not just yet,” the earl replied. “Mr. Blair, will you—”
“I am a man of God,” Oscar huffed, “and you will address me accordingly. It’s Vicar Blair to you.”
“In your dreams maybe,” the earl retorted as the crowd snickered, “but not in reality. I’ve already given your job to someone else.”
“What? No! I forbid it!”
“He’s promised to say a nice prayer at your funeral. Now let’s get back to your sister. Where is her body?”
“I don’t know!”
“I want to bury her in the church cemetery. If you confess her whereabouts, I’ll show some respect for you after your demise—not that you deserve it.”
“What will you do?”
“I’ll cut you down the moment we hang you, and I’ll bury you directly after.”
“And if I don’t provide her location?” Oscar sneered, realizing too late that his question sounded like an admission.
“You’ll dangle for weeks, so the crows can peck out your eyes and eat at your flesh. It’s what I’d pick for you, but I can’t imagine it’s what you’d prefer.”
“You’re a monster!”
“I definitely can be. What is your choice? Where is your sister?”
Oscar’s mind raced, as he tried to formulate a plan to delay any action. Fleetingly, he considered lying, supplying a fake spot as to Josephine’s corpse. They’d all run off to check, and he’d buy himself some time. But when they found they’d been duped, they’d be even more eager for blood.
“I wish to meet with an attorney,” Oscar declared.
“Why would you need an attorney? You’ve had your trial. How could an attorney help you?”
“Then I must speak with Benedict Mason.”
“He’s on his way to the penal colonies in Australia.”
“On what grounds?”
“Kidnapping, attempted rape, and attempted murder.”
Oscar blanched. “I demand to . . . to . . . confer with Sheriff Pratt.”
Pratt was supposed to be a professional, but he’d mucked up the entire operation. He was responsible for the whole mess, so it was only fitting that he rescue Oscar.
“Who is Sheriff Pratt?” the earl inquired.
“Sheriff Pratt! Sheriff Pratt!”
“Never heard of him.” The earl gestured to his brother. “Now you may
