Seven Nights in a Rogue's Bed (Sons of Sin 1)

“I left as soon as I heard of your arrest. Luckily Roberta had her carriage at Barstowe Hall. I tried all day yesterday to see you but they wouldn’t let me.”

“Bless you.” Her loyalty touched him. He didn’t underestimate her difficulties getting to London. She had no funds, rushing away would make her a target of local talk, and he couldn’t picture Roberta supporting Sidonie’s efforts to reach him.

“Why did they even think to arrest you?”

“A combination of old scandal and bad luck. A neighbor riding along the back lane saw me crossing Barstowe Hall’s grounds the day William died. Then one of the maids at Ferney got hysterical under questioning and started blabbing about me coming home bruised and disheveled the day of the murder. William’s latest legal case against me about the emerald mine didn’t help either. Seemed to give me a fresh motive for wanting the miscreant dead.”

“That all seems… flimsy.”

“It is.” He refrained from saying how old, public enmity might still condemn him. Pelham George was no fool and he’d only prosecute if he thought he had a good case to send Jonas to the gallows.

Sidonie’s eyes were somber in the lamplight. “Jonas, I can save you.”

“I doubt it.” His voice deepened into irony. “Unless Roberta signed a confession.”

Sidonie’s grip firmed. “Roberta was… against me coming to London.”

Roberta was afraid suspicion might shift from Jonas to her. “I’m sure.”

“You could have turned her in.”

He laughed humorlessly. “Nobody would credit any accusation against her.” He paused. “She doesn’t deserve to die for what she did. And there are her sons to consider.”

Her hands clenched hard around his. “You could hang.”

“We’re not at point non plus.”

Although in his heart he acknowledged he was far from innocent. He hadn’t shoved the blackguard down the stairs, but he’d frequently wished William dead. Not just because of the attack at Eton. He’d wanted William dead for stealing the heritage Jonas had always believed was his.

Now Jonas rotted in jail and nobody lifted a finger to help. He’d always known society tolerated rather than liked him. His bastardy stuck in people’s craw, even those eager to take advantage of his financial acumen. Still, to have it confirmed so categorically that, for all his wealth, he remained persona non grata was a salutary lesson. He’d assumed some business associate might offer aid, but nobody had stepped forward. So much for his youthful dreams of having so much money, he was invulnerable. Money hadn’t saved him from the humiliation of prison. Money hadn’t rallied hordes to his support.

Everyone abandoned him to his fate.

Except gallant Sidonie.

“Jonas, please listen to me. Please.”

Something in her frantic plea pricked his instincts. “What is it, bella? Some rash plan? A scramble down the walls at dead of night? A tunnel to the street? A pistol concealed under that atrocity of a cloak?”

To his regret, she tugged her hands free, then, even worse, she rose to stand a few feet away. He leaned back on his elbows, his gaze unwavering. Even if he couldn’t touch her, watching her was manna to a man locked away from her for days.

Her angry gesture dismissed his lightness. “Don’t joke.”

What the hell was going on? All desire to tease vanished. Her agitation reeked of fear. And wretchedness. Apprehension tightening his gut, he sat up and looked directly at her. “You’re making me nervous, Sidonie.”

She fumbled with the shabby reticule he hadn’t noticed tied to her wrist. He’d only seen her. He’d only ever seen her.

“Here.” She thrust something at him.

He ignored her gesture. Instead he watched her face. Her expression made him devilish uneasy.

“Jonas, look,” she said abruptly.

He glanced down to a yellowing paper in her shaking hand. Automatically he reached to take it. It took a few moments to realize what he held. His head whipped up and he stared at Sidonie in disbelief. “Is this real?”

She shrank under his shock, although he was too astonished to be angry. “Yes.”

Anger stirred. “How long have you known?”