Duchess for a Day Read online

  "I am tired of this game you play," Reyn said.

  "You play the game, sir. Laying traps with kind words and false pretenses, hoping I shall reveal some master plan." Jocelyn's frustration shot skyward. However could she convince this man to leave her alone? "I have no plan, as I have no memory."

  "I have been patient long enough. Who are you? What is your real name? What are you hiding?"

  "Is there any particular order in which you would like those questions answered?"

  "Hell, no."

  "Then, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know." By the time she finished, she realized she was shouting as loudly as he was. That would accomplish nothing.

  "You run a household with quiet efficiency, understand the teachings of Plato and adore Shakespeare. You read Latin and French, speak both fluently and play the pianoforte with great skill. You facilitate changes in a thriving business, and I discover it will most likely be profitable, yet you can't remember from whence that knowledge came? By God, do not become the innocent with me. You're a liar. Your memory is as sharp as mine."

  "And you are a manipulative, detestable Jack Nasty. Let me solve my own problems." Jocelyn turned to flee.

  His arm, snaking quickly about her waist, brought her flush against him, toe to toe, chest to chest, eye to eye. Hard lips fell upon hers. The kiss, sensual and demanding, allowed no escape.

  For my Mom and Dad, who taught me to enjoy life each And every day. Wish you were still here, Dad.

  This title was previously published by Dorchester Publishing; this version has been reproduced from the Dorchester book archive files.

  London-January, 1816

  The agonized scream, bursting with madness, pierced Mary Jocelyn Garnett's soul. Absently, she scratched at the lice and grime on her body, ignorant of the unholy stench that was partly her, partly the other poor souls trapped with her. She scanned the crowded, filthy chamber: unclean bodies, human excrement, sickness, death. Nothing could draw her fury today. More important thoughts demanded her attention. Freedom. Then revenge.

  Turning from the pitiful sight, she sighed, her white-knuckled fingers grasping the bars that covered the small opening in the heavy iron door. "There is a hell, Sister Mary Agnes. A living, breathing hell. Here. Now."

  If she thought long and hard, she could almost touch the kindly old nun, smell the ocean breeze, see the gulls soar, hear her own laughter while she ran along the rocky beach with her schoolmates. What a fool! That innocent girl no longer existed.

  Instead, as her eyelids wavered with exhaustion, she remembered the stern lessons about death, how the penitent and holy went to heaven. Those who didn't believe descended into darkness, sentenced to brutal torture and pain. Jocelyn had always questioned the literal existence of heaven and hell. Two months of imprisonment at St. Mary's of Bethlehem Hospital had convinced her that hell truly existed on earth.

  "Sweet mercy, where is he?" she asked the cold stone wall. Expecting no answer, she held her breath when the soft tread of footsteps echoed through the empty corridor.

  Escape.

  She strained to peer through the tiny space in the door. The dim candles offered little light, but she recognized Jocko's wiry hair, red beard and massive shoulders. "You're late," she said.

  The muscled attendant shrugged his shoulders and ignored her comment. "Hurry along, lovey. Dunna want to alarm any of your barmy friends." The key turned in the iron lock. Slowly, the door to freedom opened. "Dunna be speakin' until I give you the say-so. We'll be free of here before a cat can lick his ear."

  She nodded, then followed her escort down the shadowed passageway. The damp stone walls reeked of decay and moisture. As they climbed an old flight of wooden stairs, she once again considered the wisdom of her plan. Now bone-thin, her once ripe figure more ghost-like than human, she fought to maintain the last vestiges of reality. Desperation demanded she solicit Jocko's aid.

  A parolee from Newgate prison, Jocko possessed the morals of crooked overseer and a temper that equaled his size. For two months he had taunted and tormented her, but no more. After today, prepared to deal with the devil himself, she would be free.

  Shaken from her trance when a second door opened, Jocelyn glanced down a cleaner, better maintained hallway. For the first time in months, she breathed fresh air that drifted through the small windows near the ceiling, saw the natural light of a new day. She tapped Jocko on the shoulder. "Where are we? You said we would sneak-"

  "Dunna ruffle your feathers, ducky. We're in the north corridor now." He opened the door to a tiny room.

  When she scanned the new surroundings, her eyes focused on the solitary piece of furniture, a small cot by the wall covered with wrinkled and stained linens. Fear and questions darted through her mind. She shivered, then turned to see Jocko enter. He wore an expression that confirmed her suspicions. Her entire body froze.

  "All right, lovey. It's the likes of you and me." He scratched the coarse red whiskers on his chin. "Now, I been bendin' me mind to this agreement and I'm a thinkin' we could have a wee bit of fun before you leave." He leaned his massive shoulders against the door and pulled his shirt from his breeches.

  "Surely, you can't expect to-"

  Jocko raised his eyebrows at her question.

  Jocelyn spoke faster, more frantically. "You promised to take the necklace, deliver me to safety and leave well enough alone."

  "Dunna cock a snook at me, missy. Could be I gots enough blunt, or maybe I know someone that will pay me a higher coin if he hears you're making noises to be free. Either way, I intend to try me a bit of fancy goods. If you behave, I won't throw you back in the colney hatch."

  Although he was difficult to understand, the huge man's intent was quite clear. She trembled when his leer revealed the gaps between his rotting teeth. "I will scream to the heavens."

  "Screamin's nothin' new to this place, now 'tis it?" An evil glint in his eye, Jocko pushed himself from the door, forcing Jocelyn to retreat to the corner. "Mind ye, me wee crumpet, I'm bigger and stronger and meaner than you by far. Best be mindin' your manners." With the determination of a bull, he advanced.

  "Hello? Dr. Edwards?" Only the eerie silence greeted Agatha Blackburn, Dowager Duchess of Wilcott. She proceeded down the corridor to stop before a series of wooden doors. She pressed her ear to each one. Listening.

  "I say, hello? Anyone there?" She paused for a response, but heard only the thumping of her own heart. "Agatha, your mind is playing with your good sense. You are lost and you are hearing things. You should have turned to the left instead of the right. Drat that man," she said irritably. "It is all his fault. You'd think he could be on time for our meeting once in his sorry life."

  When she pulled away from the third door, she heard a faint, muffled cry for help. "Now that was not my imagination," she said emphatically to herself. Cautiously, she opened the door, stunned by what she saw. A bear of a man held down a pitiful-looking creature, her bodice torn to the waist. The poor girl's light brown hair, matted and snarled, hung in filthy clumps about her pale face. Her dress, the color no longer recognizable, was covered with dirt and stains that Agatha dreaded even to contemplate. Stark terror filled the girl's dark eyes. The thug, apparently lost in his own perverted pleasure, did not realize he had an audience.

  In a whirlwind of righteous indignation, Lady Agatha attacked. She raised her brass-handled cane high above her and let it descend to the back of the ruffian's head.

  She issued a command with enough authority to cow a regiment of soldiers. "Release that girl! At once!"

  Reeling from the blow, the thug staggered to his feet, his hand on the back of his head. Blood seeped through his fingers. He whirled toward the source of the injury. "Bloomin'hell!"

  "You il
l-mannered earthworm. I suggest you find a large hole in which to hide." Considering the threat sufficient, Agatha turned her attention to the waif who now cowered in the corner. "My dear child, you are quite safe." She pulled a dainty lace handkerchief scented with lilacs from her reticule, preparing to dab the tears that streamed down the girl's dirty face. Agatha's temper flared anew when she noticed the bright red marks on the girl's bare shoulders. Aiming her anger at the man who defiantly lingered beside the door, Agatha said, "You ought to be whipped. What is your name?"

  Like a vicious dog denied his bone, the beast took a threatening step forward, his response more like a growl. "Ain't none of your business, you meddlesome of sow. I'm do in' me job."

  Agatha brandished her cane in the air. "Do not even contemplate another step. Besides having access to the Prince Regent himself, I happen to contribute funds to this institution to help the poor souls here. By this time, the good doctor will be searching for me, and I will have your job by day's end. If you wish to save yourself from the bowels of Newgate, I suggest you slither away from here."

  The ignorant man, motionless, his hands fisted in rage, seemed to consider her words. His decision did not come soon enough to suit her fancy. "Now!" Her cane struck the floor to emphasize her words. "Beetle off before I change my mind about Newgate."

  "You ain't heard the last o' me, you ain't." His threat echoed off the walls as he stomped from the room.

  "Dear Lord, what a repulsive cretin," Agatha muttered.

  "He deserves to die a slow, painful death."

  Agatha reeled toward the raspy voice that spoke. "My dear, can you understand me?"

  The girl nodded, then begged. "Please help me."

  "Of course. Let me call another attendant."

  "No. They'll lock me away again. I couldn't bear it."

  "Calm yourself," Agatha said as she watched the girl back away toward the wall, her dark eyes pooled with tears, pride and panic. A nagging familiarity about the young girl disturbed Agatha. "Sit down before you fall. You look as though the slightest breeze could topple you." Agatha sat on the cot and patiently waited for the girl to make her decision. In addition to her apparent physical neglect, she was obviously terrified and reluctant to trust anyone. Agatha sighed; she had more than enough experience with abused animals. She spoke softly. "What is your name?"

  "Jocelyn."

  Agatha barely heard the response. "How lovely. You may call me Agatha. Come." Agatha patted the spot beside her, but the girl remained in the corner. "Jocelyn, I dislike the injustices of the world and have even less tolerance for the mistreatment of anyone. You have nothing to fear from me. I will keep you safe. I promise."

  Battered and bruised, Jocelyn observed the woman who had rescued her from certain rape. Impeccably dressed in a velvet gown designed to complement her matronly figure, her liberator wore her silver hair pulled tightly into a neat chignon at the nape of her neck. The style enhanced her sparkling blue eyes, which displayed the genuine strength of character that Jocelyn had witnessed earlier. Her smile, warm and sympathetic, revealed sincerity. Jocelyn had no idea who the woman was, or why she wandered about the halls of Bedlam, but Jocelyn knew this might be her only opportunity to plead her case and, for once, be believed. She had tried to explain so many times, but the doctors and attendants claimed her ravings were those of a lunatic.

  Determined to make the woman understand, Jocelyn crossed to the cot. "Madam," she said hesitantly, "You have no reason to believe a word I say, but I don't belong here." Jocelyn inhaled a deep breath as she sat. "My parents are dead, and there is no one to help me. I woke here, drugged and blindfolded. I have been used and deceived and abandoned to this place to..." Jocelyn shivered as the memories collided in her mind. Agatha draped her fur-lined cape across Jocelyn's bare shoulders and encouraged her to continue.

  "I don't normally sound so..." Jocelyn faltered while she searched for words. "So melodramatic. Neither am I insane." Haltingly at first, she told her story until the words seemed to flow with a life of their own. When she had finished, she gazed at her scabbed and filthy hands. "Will you help me? Please?" Jocelyn sat perfectly still for what seemed an eternity.

  Finally, Agatha said, "I think your story is plausible enough. For years it has been rumored that a lady or two has been misplaced in this institution. Some peers of the realm prefer confinement to a messy divorce. I have also witnessed abominable acts induced by man's greed. I once knew a gentleman, Lord Arlay, who spent his nights in graveyards, robbing from the newly buried. A ghastly man. But I digress. Without a doubt, you have been ill-used. Your speech and manners indicate an education. Your dress, even in its present condition, was obviously purchased from a talented modiste, and you do seem to have your wits, but..."

  Jocelyn detected the slight hesitation. She plunged onward with greater conviction. "I swear to blessed Saint Ninian, I speak the truth. I can't stay here another day. If I must, if it means my freedom, I would rather be fouled by that thug you threw out."

  Gently patting Jocelyn's hand, Agatha said, "Pish posh. Everything will be resolved. Now, child, let us begin with your full name and your age."

  "Lady Mary Jocelyn Garnett. I'm nineteen."

  "Your parents' names. Tell me this instant."

  Jocelyn flinched at the abrupt demand. "Lord James Garnett, and my mother was called Madelyn."

  "Dear God in heaven!"

  After Agatha's explosive reaction, the door burst open. A thin young man with gold-rimmed glasses and a whip in his hand stormed into the room. Jocelyn leapt to her feet when the ominous leather swirled toward her.

  The little man wheezed. "Thank goodness I found you. Are you well, your grace? I had no idea-"

  Agatha rose from the cot like a queen, placing herself between Jocelyn and the man. With one hand on her hip, the other balanced on the handle of her cane, she said, "Do be still, Dr. Edwards, and drop that nasty whip. You have a great many things to explain."

  "I apologize, madam. I assume full responsibility for my tardiness. If you have been endangered in any way-"

  Agatha sent him a scorching look of disapproval.

  He paused to inhale a deep breath before nervously rambling on. "Let me return this patient to her quarters."

  "Do not touch so much as a follicle on her head!"

  Jocelyn stood in stunned silence as Agatha issued her command, a distinct bite to every word. The kind, gentle woman of moments before had vanished.

  "Dr. Edwards, this young woman is to be released to my care. Immediately."

  The doctor's jaw dropped. "I beg your pardon?"

  "You heard me. When I leave today, she accompanies me."

  "Excuse me, Lady Wilcott, that is absolutely impossible."

  "Codswollop. Nothing is impossible. Not for an intelligent, compassionate man like yourself."

  Drawing himself up to his full height, Edwards was barely taller than Agatha. "Your grace, there are procedures that must be followed. First, I must check her records, then a release must be issued from the physician in charge as well as the appropriate family member."

  "She has no living relatives."

  "My step-uncle," Jocelyn said quietly.

  "Shhh," Agatha whispered.

  "Aha! See there." Edwards pointed his finger to the ceiling. "She freely admits she has an uncle. He must be consulted."

  A resounding "no" flew from the mouths of both women.

  "She only meant to mention that her last living relative is dead. Am I not correct, Jocelyn?"

  More than willing to comply if it meant her freedom, Jocelyn nodded in agreement at the falsehood.

  "See?" Agatha said. "Now, about that release?"

  The doctor's expression changed from disbelief to solicitude. "Please, madam. I understand your concern. Let us retire to my office so we may thoroughly discuss this situation. Together we shall find a satisfactory solution."

  "Do not patronize me. I am not a patient here, nor am I a cloth-eared child. I am, as you are we
ll aware, a benefactress of this institution and may be encouraged to increase my endowment. Given sufficient reason."

  Edwards placed his hand across his heart. "Is that a bribe?"

  "Dr. Edwards, cease the theatrics. You may call it whatever you wish. I only know I will remove this young woman from these vile surroundings before nightfall." Agatha paused. "With or without your approval or assistance."

  "I will not break the rules and risk the loss of my position. She can only be released into the custody of a relative." He crossed his arms over his chest.

  The doctor meant to follow the rules. Jocelyn knew and accepted that. Yet, having come this close to escape, she wouldn't give up. Even Agatha seemed determined to find a solution.

  The older woman paced the short length of the room, obviously deep in thought. Suddenly, she offered a private wink to Jocelyn, and turned frosty eyes on Edwards. "I concede, Dr. Edwards, but allow me a few temporary concessions. First, I want a clean garment brought to this room. Next, we will deliver this young woman to your office where she will wait until I return. She will be given fresh bread and warm broth. If-"

  Edwards gasped. "But-"

  A single wave of Agatha's hand stalled his complaint. "If these simple requests are not met, my dear doctor, you will consider a trip to the colonies of New South Wales a luxury. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

  With his face flushed a deep red, Edwards glared at Agatha, then briskly nodded. He left the room without a backward glance.

  Unable to hide the unmasked hope in her voice, Jocelyn asked, "Will you really help me?"

  "Absolutely."

  The sincerity in Agatha's voice gave Jocelyn even greater hope.

  "My dear girl, it is a blessing you survived thus far, and sheer luck that I found you today. To leave you here would be unacceptable. Unthinkable. My intentions are above reproach. Will you trust me?"

  Jocelyn felt a flicker of anxiety. She had trusted someone once before with devastating results. Trusting Agatha, a woman she knew nothing about, could mean she was trading one living hell for another. She peeked at Agatha from the corners of her eyes and dismissed any misgivings. Freedom would be hers. That was a beginning. "Yes, madam. How will I be able to leave?"