“Where am I going?” Samson asked Ralston. “Where are you taking me?”
“To jail in London to await trial with your son.”
“May I pack a bag? May I fetch my purse so I have some money to defray expenses once we arrive?”
“You don’t have any money,” Ralston said. “It’s all Caroline’s, and it’s our opinion that she wouldn’t like you to get your grubby fingers on what’s left of it.”
Lucretia tiptoed to the stairs and peeked over the railing. She couldn’t see anyone, but angry voices drifted up from a parlor.
Ever since Gregory had been physically carried from their bedchamber, she’d been hiding in the dressing room, wondering what to do.
It appeared his creditors had caught him, and she was kicking herself for being such an idiot. Why had she tarried by his side? Why hadn’t she snuck away the instant she’d noticed trouble brewing?
Her only excuse was that she’d grown complacent. They’d been together for years, and they’d lived in a posh manner. The funds had magically flowed in, and she’d never had to worry about where they came from or where they went.
Gregory was on a sinking ship. Should she dawdle and throw him a rope? Or should she swim to safety and let him drown?
Even as she posed the question, the answer was obvious: She wasn’t about to have any of Gregory’s consequences land on her. That very minute, he might be under arrest. What if her name was on a warrant somewhere? What then?
She hurried back to their bedchamber, and she grabbed a satchel and crammed her jewelry into it. Gregory had a few pounds stashed in a drawer, and she took that too. Then she rushed out, her mind awhirl with plans.
She’d head straight to London and begin to pack. Before any of them moved to attach their house, she’d be gone with all the items of value. If she was thrifty, she’d be fine. She would gradually pawn baubles and support herself until she could find a new paramour. She was young and beautiful, and she had no doubt she’d succeed in tempting a worthy candidate.
She smirked with satisfaction. Goodbye Gregory Grey! He was a reckless fool whose chickens had come home to roost, and she’d stayed much longer than she should have.
She dashed down the hall and was about to start down the stairs when she noted the housekeeper, Mrs. Scruggs, lurking in the shadows. The shrew glared at Lucretia in a condemning way, and in a different world, Lucretia would have paused to scold her for being impertinent. She might even have fired her, but there was no time to fret over a snooty, incompetent employee.
No, Lucretia had to get away while the getting was good.
She flitted down to the foyer, but her luck didn’t hold. A mob of men flooded out of Samson’s library. Gregory was at the front, with two criminals gripping his arms so he couldn’t escape. He was gagged, his wrists fettered.
They marched by her, and Gregory was straining against his guards, trying to tell her something, but with the kerchief in his mouth, she had no idea what it was.
His father was brought out next, and he stared morosely at Lucretia and said, “We’ve been arrested. We’re being transported to London to be jailed.”
“Dear me!” she said, feigning alarm.
“Would you contact a lawyer for me please? Have him visit me so we can discuss his posting my bail.”
“I will hire one for you,” she lied. Once Gregory and Samson were whisked away, it was her specific intent that she would never see either of them ever again.
Samson was yanked out the door, and she breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived.
Caleb Ralston and Lord Barrett strolled toward her. She couldn’t figure out why Barrett was present, but she didn’t have to ponder what part Ralston had played in Gregory’s downfall. Gregory owed the oaf a bloody fortune, and Lucretia had warned him over and over about Ralston.
Caleb Ralston was not a man to be tricked or cheated, and lesser men defrauded him at their peril.
“What’s happened to Gregory and his father?” she asked Ralston, hoping she looked innocent and concerned.
“I’ve bought Gregory’s debt, and he can’t pay me, so he’s been swept up as a debtor.”
“How awful—for both of you.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re devastated,” Ralston sarcastically said. “They’re also accused of stealing from Caroline Grey.”
Lucretia frowned. “What could they have stolen from Miss Grey? As far as I’m aware, she doesn’t have a penny to her name.”
Lord Barrett scoffed with derision, as Ralston said, “We haven’t requested a warrant for you. Yet.”
She quailed, her knees suddenly so weak that she had to grab the bannister. “Why would you have suspicions about me? I’m simply Gregory’s devoted friend. What crime could I have committed?”
“In case you’re expecting to slither to your London home, you should know that we’ve seized it. Even as we speak, I have investigators there who are tabulating the contents.”
She gasped. “What?”
“I’m certain every chattel in the place, as well as the house itself, was purchased with Caroline’s money. We’ll sort it out, but in the meantime, you’re not welcome there.”
His words pummeled her, and she shivered with terror. She didn’t have anything of her own. Every little piece of her life had been acquired with what Gregory had taken from his cousin’s trust fund. If Ralston had custody of all of it, what would she do?
“I should be going,” she said. “Mr. Grey has asked me to hire a lawyer for him. I should rush to town to see if I can help him.”
She might have walked on, but the old bat, Mrs. Scruggs, called from up on the landing, “Mr. Ralston, would you check the satchel Mrs. Starling is carrying? I believe it’s stuffed
