Chapter 30

Avaline stole down the staircase in the governor's mansion. The house was silent, save for the melodic chirps and twitters from the birds in the atrium.

Francis had left for the garrison before breakfast to take care of business.

Casting a look over her shoulder, she slipped into Francis's office. She aimed for his mahogany table, sifting through the papers and letters stacked on the soft leather top. Correspondence from the Secretary of State in London, a letter from the Governor of Jamaica, commissions, warrants, orders, and proclamations—nothing that could tie him to the French Governor or the sale of British weapons.

She tried the drawers, but as she had suspected, they were locked.

Well, bugger. She had to find evidence, something that proved Adrian's innocence!

She thrust the chair aside and dropped to the floor, sinking her knees into the plush texture of the oriental carpet. There had to be a way to access the drawers without a key. She traced her fingertips along the hidden recesses beneath the table, methodically searching, pushing, and tapping the wood in pursuit of any weakness she could exploit. Her second cousin Charles Simmons, the Hawthorn Manor butler Henry, and Geraldine's son taught her this skill during countless explorations of the Hawthorn Manor lofts and cellars.

She didn't hear the door opening before Francis's sleek voice slithered through the room.

"Are you looking for something?"

Avaline shot up, smacking her head against the sturdy desk.

Damn!

"I… er, lost my hairpin," she stuttered and used the excuse to rub what probably would look like a goose egg in the afternoon.

He placed his cane by the coat stand. A pale blemish marred the glossy black surface, evidence of a recent impact.

A fit of rage?

He took a step toward her, so close she felt the heat radiating from his body, and she retreated until her back collided with the wall. The fine hairs on her arms prickled, unlike the warm and jellylike sensation Adrian's closeness had stirred.

"And may I ask what you're doing in my office that made you lose your hairpin?"

Avaline's heart stalled. "I-I'm looking for the matrimony deal my father sent you. I want to read it."

"Tell me, do you take me for a fool?"

His eyes shone with a mad gleam, like he had lost grip on reality.

"I don't know what you're talking–"

He lunged at her throat, squeezing hard. She flinched, sensing an urgent need to relieve herself as he held her tight and brought his face close to hers. "There is nothing you can do to save your pirate lover." Despite his breath carrying a neutral scent, she gagged as his warm exhalation brushed across her face. "Nothing!"

"What?"

"I paid a visit to the garrison," he informed and let her go. "To make sure your lover is chained to the walls like the animal he is."

Avaline's heart jumped a beat. "Adrian?" She didn't notice how his name slid off her tongue like silk before seeing Francis's reaction.

"Yes, Adrian ." His mad gleam blackened like a looming thundercloud. "I get the distinct feeling you became rather close with him. Tell me, did you whore yourself out to his entire crew, or was it only to him you let between your legs?"

Avaline gasped. "I didn't–"

"Don't bother denying it. Hainsworth gladly confirmed my suspicions." He stepped back, scrutinizing her with a calculating look. "He called you a pirate whore. Said he used you to take me down, making sure you fell for his charm so you would play by his rules."

"I-I don't understand…"

"His only goal in life is to ruin me. He purposedly went after you and wooed you to make sure you turned me down, and his touch made you blind to his lies."

A sharp pain stabbed through her chest, followed by a cold wave of shock. Had Adrian used her to get his revenge?

He knew she had been on the Chirton .

I believe you, Adrian.

That was what he had wanted? Manipulate her to help him ruin his enemy?

No. The pain in his voice when he talked about Francis's betrayal, the pain in his eyes when he lost focus, and his mind returned to a dark time was real pain.

"I refuse to believe you."

"Whatever happened, I shall enjoy the moment he dangles from the noose, and we shall both witness his last twitches, King George's governor and his betrothed, embracing law and order."

"I will do no such thing!"

"You will do exactly what I tell you to." His voice was low and vicious. "Tomorrow at noon. Unless you willingly come, I will carry you."

Tomorrow.

Avaline's heart sank. That wasn't nearly enough time to find evidence against Francis. "Tomorrow? That isn't enough time for a fair trial."

"That hound already had a fair trial. I won't let Hainsworth get away again."

"How can you demand such a thing from me? I don't want to see people die."

His fist smacked down on the table. "For the simple reason that you whored yourself out in the bed of a pirate, a traitor to the King–"

"You're the traitor, and now you're trying to force me into your bed!"

Francis's palm landed on her cheek with a singing smack, and a coppery taste spread on her tongue.

"You will never utter those words again, do you hear me? Never again! Now get out of my sight before I lose my temper."

Avaline stumbled from his office and scrambled up the carpeted staircase to her quarters. The sting from Francis's slap still burned her cheek, but her mind was on Adrian.

He was to be hanged tomorrow without a trial.

Tears logged in her throat.

If only Papa had been here.

He would have the knowledge and authority to reason with Francis.

The knock on the door jolted her from her seat, but then Molly's smile greeted her—a smile that quickly vanished when she laid eyes on Avaline. "For heaven's sake, my dear, what happened? Did Lord Francis hurt you?"

Avaline sat up. "He will be hanged tomorrow." She sobbed.

Molly looked at her with a perplexed expression, her eyes narrowing slightly, but then her features softened. "Oh, dear." The mattress dipped when she seated herself next to Avaline. "You love him, don't you?"

"W-whatever do you mean?" Avaline sniffed.

"My child." Molly took her hand and squeezed gently. "I was expecting you to arrive half-dead after your ordeal with that pirate, but then you emerged from the carriage last night with a bounce in your step and that glow on your face that no weariness can erase."

"What glow?"

"The glow of love."

"Oh." Avaline's cheeks flushed hot. "How…"

"I may be old, but I was young once. And I was very much in love. I know that feeling when I see it. I don't blame you for it. He is a formidable man, strikingly handsome and masculine, but my dear child, I fear you're setting yourself up to be heartbroken."

Avaline shook off the astonishment that had settled on her. "You're right, Molly. I love him. I can't marry Lord Francis. What am I supposed to do?"

"I can merely advise you to do what feels right for you. I'm convinced Lord Hawthorn would say the same, and I know your mama would want you to listen to your heart. That is what she did. If your heart refuses to accept Lord Francis's proposal, you shouldn't."

Always follow your heart, Avaline.

Her father's words echoed in Avaline's head, and she clutched the locket hanging around her neck. Her mother had been happy.

"You're right, I shouldn't." Avaline sniffed again, unladylike. "Molly, I need you to listen to me and trust me because we don't have much time."

"Much time for what?"

"To save him."

Avaline took advantage of Molly's speechlessness. "Captain Hainsworth once served in the British Navy," she explained in a low voice. "He was Francis's superior, and Adrian disciplined him for insubordination. Francis avenged himself by framing Adrian as a traitor trading British weapons to the French."

"Whatever are you saying?"

"Adrian was arrested and thrown in Newgate. He was flogged to within an inch of his life because of Francis. He escaped, and he has since been pursuing his vengeance against Francis. Adrian knew I was on board the Chirton . Francis revealed it to one of his accomplices. Adrian captured me to gain leverage over Francis, not to harm me personally. Adrian is innocent, and what is more"—she lowered her voice further—"he suspects that Francis is still trading weapons to the French."

"Avaline!" Molly cast a wide-eyed look around as though dreading that someone might lurk nearby and overhear the dangerous accusation.

"When we were in Martinique, he warned me to remain on board while he was ashore, but one of his trusted officers came to fetch me in the middle of the night, claiming Adrian had been shot. He promised to take me to see him, but it was a cunning deception. He had plotted to hand me over to the French soldiers, hoping to earn a bounty for returning me to Francis. Adrian probably thinks I ran off. I need him to know the truth."

Avaline grabbed Molly's hands with both hers. "I need to find evidence of Francis's business. That is the only way I can save Adrian."

"My goodness. I can hardly credit what you're saying. Governor Ashcroft a traitor to his own sovereign and country?"

"Believe me, Molly. I shared the same thoughts, but what else could compel Adrian to take such actions if not for his pursuit of justice? It is his sole purpose in life."

"I do see your reasoning." Molly's shoulders sagged. "But what possible evidence could exist of such horrific actions? And where would you find them?"

"There must be some correspondence between him and the French Governor, anything that connects him to the French. He doesn't participate in the business himself; he only orchestrates the deals. I already looked in his study, but he caught me snooping. That is why he hit me."

"Lord Almighty!" Molly seethed. "I knew the moment I beheld the governor that he wasn't quite what he seemed to be."

"Molly, I need to see Adrian."

Molly's eyes grew large. "But heavens, how will that go about? Lord Francis will never let you see him."

"There has to be a way!"

"I don't know…" Molly paused, but then she got up from the bed. "Where is that irritating man when I need him?"

"Can we trust him? He is Francis's aide."

"I can assure you that whatever he says or does, he doesn't like Lord Francis, and now I understand why. I'll go and speak with him. He must know what to do."

Two hours later, after Francis had left to resolve a dispute between two plantation owners, Hammond stood stiff in Avaline's chamber, a stoic expression morphing his face into a blank canvas as he waited for the verbal abuse from an indignant Molly to relent.

"How dare you? Are you out of your ever-loving mind? Remove that… thing " — she waved her arm at him—"from our sight immediately!"

That thing hanging from Hammond's hand was a blood-red gauzy fabric with a plunging neckline.

"That is your idea of helping?" Molly persisted.

"It is a tradition that prisoners sentenced to death are granted one last wish, provided it is reasonable," Hammond explained, face motionless save for the slight rise of his brows. "A final roll with a loose woman is a reasonable wish."

Molly recoiled as if he had wielded words like a sharp knife, cutting through her composure. "A final roll…? Away with you! "

"No, wait." Avaline rose from her seat by the bureau. "They will never let me in to see him if they know who I am. If this is what will grant me access to the prison, I'll do it."

"What?" Molly squeaked. "Are you in your right mind?"

"I won't stay and wed Francis. I don't have anything to lose, certainly not a reputation, but Adrian has everything to lose."

Molly couldn't find the arguments to counter that, and to her dismay, Avaline transformed from a refined woman to a lewd strumpet in front of her tearful eyes. A black cape reaching Avaline's ankles covered her scandalous outfit.

"The hay wagon is waiting by the kitchen entrance," Hammond informed. "I will inform Governor Ashcroft of your sudden illness should he return before you."

"Thank you, Hammond. I appreciate what you're doing. This must be such an awkward position for you."

A new glint shone in his eyes. "Not at all, Miss Hawthorn. Not at all."

With her heartbeat pounding in her ears and moisture gathering between her breasts, she climbed onto the anonymous hay wagon Hammond had retrieved from the stables.

As the coachman maneuvered through Bridgetown's winding streets, she wrapped her cape tighter around her shoulders and lifted the hood to shield her hair and face. She didn't care about her reputation but couldn't let Francis see her and thwart her plans.

She needed Adrian to know the truth, no matter the cost.