to his money, and I sincerely doubt her mother-in-law is in much of a generous mood at present.”
“If she’s innocent, Medford, we expect you to help her,” Lily said.
“Help her? What do I have to do with it?”
Lily gave him a small smile. “Don’t forget who you’re speaking to, James. We happen to know you have a soft spot for damsels in distress.” She gave her sister a conspiratorial grin.
James pursed his lips. “There’s no chance of that happening here. I intend to keep my business with her entirely secret … and entirely business.”
“But if you learn she’s not guilty, you’ll help her. I know you will,” Annie added, leaning over and patting his hand.
James shrugged. “I don’t know whether she’s guilty, and to be honest, I don’t much care. All I know is her story will sell pamphlets.”
“And that’s all that matters to you?” Annie asked, a frown on her face. “Selling pamphlets?”
“Of course not,” James replied with a grin. “I intend to sell a great many pamphlets.”
Lily rolled her eyes at him again. “But what if the duchess is innocent?”
“I’m giving her a chance to tell her story, aren’t I? Besides, it’s not as if I pulled the trigger and shot her husband, nor did I accuse her of doing so. This entire situation was already well made before I ever got wind of it.”
“But how can you be so nonchalant when an innocent woman may be sentenced to die?” Annie had left half of her teacake on her plate, a sure sign she was thoroughly distracted.
“You don’t fool me for one moment, James Bancroft,” Lily interjected. “I give you one week of dealing with the duchess before you’re assisting with her defense.”
James shook his head. “Now that is utter nonsense. I draw the line at aiding a murderess.”
“But you don’t know for certain that she is a murderess,” Annie pointed out, brushing crumbs from her skirts.
James stood up and tossed his napkin on the table. “Indeed, I hope the truth will out, for the duchess’s sake. Now, if you’ll excuse me, ladies. I have a prisoner to visit.”
CHAPTER 3
This time when she was led into the small, cold room in the Tower, the duchess greeted James with something of a curious smile on her face.
“Good morning, your grace.” He bowed over the delicate hand she presented him. No. He hadn’t been imagining it before. She was ethereal.
“My lord,” she replied in an unhurried tone.
James was once again captivated by her startling beauty. No wonder Markingham had married her. The man must have snapped her up the moment he’d laid eyes on her. James didn’t blame him. But, alas, the duke obviously didn’t realize what marriage had in store for him.
“I trust you slept well,” James said, wondering why his stomach was in a knot around this woman. He was never nervous. Ever. It was a singularly unique experience for him. He watched her closely as if her countenance would give a clue as to why his heart beat a bit faster in her presence.
The edges of the duchess’s mouth turned up in the hint of a smile, and James was immediately reminded of how different she was. She was supposed to be all refinement and perfection but instead she had a sort of realness to her that drew him in. Made him want to see what she would do or say next. She was … captivating. That was it. That was what he was responding to.
She tugged on her shawl. “I never sleep well in this place.” She gestured with her chin to the stone walls surrounding them. “It’s freezing and not particularly comfortable, as you might imagine.”
James furrowed his brow. His voice deepened. “Are they treating you ill?”
“No, of course not. They’re treating me with all the respect due my illustrious title.” She nearly spat the last two words.
James motioned for her to sit and he waited until she’d done so before he took a seat across the table from her. “You don’t enjoy being a duchess?”
Her bright