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The sun’s light crept across the grey stone in the cell as the sun breached the horizon. Another day of incarceration dawning. Drew sighed. He was bored of lying on an uncomfortable mattress, staring at the same four walls.

How people survived years in prisons he had no clue. The hours of the day were marked only by the jangle of keys.

The first jangle came when a lump of dry bread was handed to him through the bars.

The second came an hour after that… Too early for luncheon.

Drew stood and looked through the hole in the door trying to see if someone was coming to visit him.

Peter smiled at him from behind the jailor’s shoulder.

Drew stepped back as the door was unlocked.

‘You will not believe this…’ Peter began, with a broad grin, when the jailor closed the door. ‘Wiltshire confronted Kilbride last night. It was deliberately done to be a spectacle. He challenged him in the middle of the Devonshires’ ballroom, raising his voice so all could hear and denouncing Kilbride’s claims as an utter lie. When Kilbride argued, Wiltshire turned to the crowd and told them they would hear the truth in the morning.’

‘Those were bold words.’ Drew rubbed his unshaven jaw. ‘I am not so convinced. It is still the word of a bastard against that of a nobleman.’

Peter risked the fleas again and sat on the mattress. ‘Not now. Now it is the word of twenty noblemen, as well as you and Caro, against a single man. They were all there, Mary’s uncles and cousins, standing behind Wiltshire, ready to defend you and Caro. When Wiltshire was done, the room was abuzz with women claiming you must be the wounded party. People trust that family, and if that family is on your side – they trust you. Harry and Mark are bragging about being your friends.’

‘To win women.’

‘To win women,’ Peter agreed, and laughed.

Drew shook his head, a shallow smile raising his lips.

‘Your mother and the Marquis were there,’ Peter added. ‘They walked out.’

‘Please tell me Wiltshire did not threaten them too?’

‘No, but he scowled.’ Peter grinned.

Drew grimaced. ‘I have had enough of this place.’

‘By the end of the day, you will be out of here.’

‘I wish I was sure.’

‘I am sure. That is enough. Do you think Pembroke will mind if I call on you at his estate?’

‘I doubt he would turn you away.’

‘Good enough. I will call on you in a day or two.’

‘Enough!’

‘I am sick of that man’s voice ordering my day,’ Drew whispered bitterly.

‘It will be over soon.’ Peter slapped Drew’s shoulder.

‘Please God you are right.’

When the keys jangled for the fourth time that day, Drew did not get up. It would be the evening meal, and surely then too late for any word from the magistrate.

‘Stand up, Lord Framlington.’ It was not the guard who spoke.

Drew’s heart pounded as the door opened wider. Then he saw Richard behind the stranger.

‘You are cleared of the charge and free to go. Here.’ The stranger held out a roll of paper, which Drew presumed confirmed the magistrate’s verdict.

Drew grasped it, not that he needed a piece of paper to tell him he had done nothing wrong.

Wiltshire held out a hand and shook Drew’s firmly.

‘Thank you.’ Drew spoke before he could.

‘You are welcome,’ he answered. ‘Now, let us get you back to Mary.’

Drew jogged down the stone steps ahead of Wiltshire, eager to get out. A man opened the prison door.

The light blinded Drew for a moment. He had never felt so happy to see the sun.

‘You could stay with me tonight, so you can shave and such. I will run you out to Pembroke Place in the morning. Or we can leave now and we might make it before dusk.’

‘I want to go now, to see Mary.’

‘Then we leave now. The numbers have grown at Pembroke Place, though, the family are gathering.’

Drew’s heart pounded hard. He wanted to see Mary but he did not welcome the trial of meeting her entire family again.

They drove out of London during the fashionable, crowded hour, which made the journey slower and tedious. Some people sought to peer into the carriage, as if they thought Drew might be inside. He pulled down the blind.

Wiltshire laughed.

When the carriage stopped again, Drew’s natural impatience rose. He itched to leap from the carriage and run to Pembroke’s, not that that would get him to Mary any faster.

Wiltshire touched Drew’s arm. ‘We will get there, lad, however long it takes. Cool your temper and learn to consider the consequences before you let it rise.’

Drew moved his arm. ‘I am grateful for all you have done, Richard. But do not tell me what I should or should not do.’

‘Lord Framlington, I think that is something you have lacked. From what I have seen, you had no one to guide you appropriately. I cannot tell you what to do, no, but I can and will advise you. You may choose whether to listen.’

Drew sneered, but even so… ‘Please call me Drew.’

‘Yet, Mary calls you Andrew.’

‘Because I was fool enough to tell her it was my given name, and now she insists on it to recognise all that I am, and not the man other people see.’

‘I am getting to know you, Drew. You are aggressive only when you feel threatened. I am no threat, and nor is anyone else in Mary’s family. But put up your guard and it will take thrice as long for you to feel welcome.’ Honouring his word, he said no more, leaving Drew to consider if he should heed Richard’s advice, or not.

Drew pulled down the brim of his hat, slid down in the seat and rested a boot heel on the far side.

Richard laughed.

Drew smiled to himself, shaking his head over the knowledge that his behaviour had become a thing of amusement.