Marblestone Mansion, Book 2 Read online

  MARBLESTONE MANSION

  Book 2

  (Scandalous Duchess Series)

  By

  Marti Talbott

  © All Rights Reserved

  Cover art by Book Cover Art

  Editor: Frankie Sutton

  Table of Contents

  More Marti Talbott Books

  CHAPTER 1

  Alexandra Sinclair looked a fright.

  Arrested in Paris, she was allowed to change clothes only once on the dank and dirty cargo ship that carried her back to England. Even her feminine enticements were of no use when it came to the stubborn Scotland Yard detective. She tried her best, but the bald-headed, unpleasant looking man would not give in to even the simplest demand a lady of her obvious importance deserved.

  Upon her arrival, she was locked away in an aging London house that had been converted to a place of confinement for women awaiting trial. Her living conditions were insufferable. Still wearing the same white waistshirt and long black skirt, her dark hair was dirty, her face was smudged and her clothes were wrinkled.

  Unable to control her temper, Alexandra’s rage at one of the other women netted her a well-deserved shiny black eye. With the windows nailed shut, the air was often putrid, her thin mattress was unbearably hard and more often than not, the food was inedible. Therefore, when the jail keeper came to get her, she heaved a giant sigh of relief, certain her freedom had finally arrived.

  She was wrong.

  Mr. Attwater and his wife lived in a separate section of the house which included the kitchen, a bedroom and a parlor. The pay was low, the work was hard and the prisoners were too many to easily manage. For this reason, the Attwaters paid little attention to the fighting. It was all the two of them could do to provide one bath a week and keep them fed. Consequently, the women were left to either get along or suffer the results. Yet, there was a punishment for the worst of the worst, namely the withholding of a bath, and with her high and mighty attitude, it had been a while since Alexandra Sinclair had seen one.

  When John Crisp, a smartly dressed solicitor came to see her, the Attwaters brought Alexandra into the parlor just the way she was. Mr. Crisp was appalled at the sight and smell of the woman and immediately lost his temper. “Dare you treat her in such a manner? Do you not know who I am?”

  “We were not expecting…” Mr. Attwater sputtered.

  “So I see. I demand you allow this woman to bathe and see that she has clean clothes, or I shall not hesitate to notify the authorities in the strongest of all possible language. Clean her up, Attwater! I shall return within the hour to see that you have.” With that, he walked out and let the front door slam behind him.

  *

  Although she admitted she had done some stupid things in her life, Alexandra Sinclair was not an altogether stupid woman. In fact, she knew very well that a woman charged with bigamy would most likely be forgiven by the courts -- as long as she lied well enough to convince them she truly believed her first husband was dead. Theft, however, was another matter, and try as she might, she had not come up with a convincing excuse for it.

  Bathed, dressed and guarded by Mr. Attwater, she sat on the well-worn settee in the bland parlor of the detention home, wearing a plain frock that did nothing for her somewhat thinner figure. Her hair was not yet dry and therefore, not fashioned in the manner a lady of her imagined stature could be proud of, but at least it was clean. The parlor furnishings consisted of a tattered carpet, the settee and a matching stained chair, a roll top desk, an unlit hearth, and one crooked painting on walls that desperately needed new wallpaper.

  At last, the parlor door opened and John Crisp was back. An elder man with graying hair and a square face, he looked his client over, nodded his approval and then dismissed Mr. Attwater with a wave of his hand. When the man didn’t leave, Crisp frowned. “Mr. Attwater, I assure you my reputation would be ruined if I helped her escape. Leave us. I shall speak to Mrs. Sinclair alone.”

  Reluctantly, Attwater left the room.

  John Crisp was not a happy man when he sat down in the chair opposite Alexandra. Too many of his clients could not afford to pay lately, and he sincerely hoped this case would turn out differently. “I shall not mince words, Mrs. Sinclair. An American by the name of Charles Whitfield approached me Saturday last, demanding your freedom. He claims to be the son of a wealthy Colorado gold mine owner, although the funds he expects to receive have not been forthcoming. Nevertheless…”

  Alexandra’s mouth dropped. “The son? He told me he owned the mine.”

  “Perhaps you misunderstood?”

  She felt her face begin to flush and couldn’t help but raise her voice, “And perhaps I have been lied to by a childish, bothersome man with the manners of a pig!”

  “Do calm yourself, madam. Apparently, he does not own the mine or I would have my compensation by now. Since I do not, and most likely never will, I must first ask if you have any holdings of value.”

  Alexandra took a deep breath and forced herself to set her anger aside. “I might have.”

  Crisp rolled his eyes. “Either you have holdings or you do not. Which is it?”

  She smiled her prettiest smile, forgetting that she was not nearly so charming with a black eye. “Mr. Crisp, I must know, will you keep silent if I tell you the rest of it?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “The rest of it? There is more?”

  “A great deal more, I confess.”

  Certain she was about to tell him a sad story, which she hoped would negate her paying for his services, he warily said, “I assure you, anything you tell me shall be kept in the strictest confidence. Now, what is the rest of it?”

  “Charles Whitfield is my husband too.”

  Crisp stared into the serious eyes of the woman seated across from him. “You have married again? You now have three husbands?” Alexandra held up all five fingers of her right hand. “You have five husbands?” When she nodded, he lowered his gaze and stared at the floor. What he thought was a simple case easily won had just gotten far more complicated. “Perhaps, we should begin at the beginning. Who is…or was your first husband?”

  “George Graham. I swear I thought he was dead. He’d not come home for a full month, so what was I to think? Besides, he was a hideous man who hit me for no reason at all. When I was certain he would never be back, I gathered my things and left. What else could I do, I had to live.”

  “I see. Well, the judge will likely accept that as a fair reason to marry a second time. It is your second husband, a Mr. Sinclair, who filed charges against you.”

  She was surprised to hear that. It took only a moment for her to become angry again. “Mr. Sinclair sent me away without so much as a sixpence to my name. He swore he was going to divorce me, but it appears he never did.”

  “Unfortunately, he claims you ran off and took a good many jewels with you when you left.”

  Caught in her lie, she decided this was as good a time as any, to be truthful for once. “Perhaps I did take a few, but it certainly was not a great many. I had to have some comforts or I would surely die.”

  She lied so sincerely, he thought a judge just might believe her. When she began to speak again, he raised his hand to silence her. The solicitor pulled a fountain pen box and a small notebook out of his inside pocket. Next, he opened the box, withdrew his fountain pen, unscrewed the cap, and began to make notes to that effect. At length, he closed his little book and put the cap back on his pen. “Now Mrs. Sinclair, tell me about your third husband.”

  “Mr. Crisp, I took an oath not to tell anyone about that marriage. It only lasted a month and I do not even recall why I left him.”

  He tried not to let his excitement show. Whoever she was
protecting had to be of some prominence, hence there was money in this somewhere, a good bit of money -- he could smell it. “You might as well tell me his name. I’ll have no trouble finding the marriage records.”

  “You’ll not find any record of that marriage; I used another new name.”

  “Are you saying Alexandra is not your real name?”

  “Good heavens no. I hate my real name and once I left my first husband, I saw no reason to keep it. I like Alexandra far better.”

  “I see.” He paused to think for a moment. If she realized her blunder, she didn’t let on. It didn’t really matter if she left her first husband of if she thought he was dead. Only the story she told the judge mattered. “I wonder, if you took another name, how did Mr. Sinclair find out about your first husband?”

  “I have given that considerable thought and there is but one way – Mr. Sinclair did not betray me, my friend did. She married him after I did.”

  “Mr. Sinclair?”

  “No, she married my third husband.”

  “Mrs. Sinclair, I am confused. If your friend married him and she betrayed you, why do you still wish to protect your third husband?”

  “It makes no sense, does it.” Alexandra stared out of the parlor’s only window for a long moment. “It had to be her; she is the only one who knew. You see, Lady Bayington came to see me when I was still in Scotland. For my sake, she advised me to go back to America and try to make amends with my fourth husband. She clearly had reasons of her own to get me out of the country, and even gave me enough money to pay my fare, but I did not imagine she would betray me.”

  Crisp was right, the smell of money was not just his imagination and he had to contain his excitement at all costs. “Lord Bayington was your third husband?”

  “Lord Bayington and I both agreed. Our marriage was a dreadful mistake and having lasted only a month, we were both quite willing to forget the matter and keep silent about it.”

  “Did he divorce you?”

  “I am quite certain he must have, although…”

  “Go on,” said Crisp.

  “You see, I could not be Alexandra Sinclair anymore, so I became Alice Crawford when I married Lord Bayington.”

  “You changed names again. Now, tell me what reasons?”

  “What?”

  “You said Lady Bayington had reasons of her own to get you out of the country. What reasons?”

  Alexandra squirmed in her chair for a moment. “Oh that. Well…ah…she knows her husband still loves me and it drives her quite mad.”

  “I can see how it would. I believe that brings us to husband number four. Did you change names again?”

  “I had to. Once free of that dreadful marriage, I chose the name Olivia Rutherford and married Hannish MacGreagor.”

  Crisp looked beyond her swollen cheek and black eye at the beautiful little liar, and finally recognized her. When she married the Scottish duke, Olivia’s wedding picture was in all the papers. “You are a duchess?”

  Her ire began to rise again. “Not anymore. Mr. MacGreagor gave the title, the land and all the holding to his brother, Cameron. Cameron’s wife is the duchess now.”

  “How disappointing for you.”

  “You cannot imagine. Hannish severely cut my allowance, and I could go nowhere. Not one invitation came to attend a ball for the rest of season. I shall never forgive him for it, not ever.”

  Crisp needed to think before he asked his next question. To buy time, he unscrewed his pen cap and made a few more notes. At length, he finished and put his writing materials away. “Mrs. Sinclair, I have heard that Hannish MacGreagor made a great deal of money when he sold his silver mine. I believe the figure was well over three million pounds.”

  Alexandra could scarcely believe her ears. “Three million pounds? Are you certain?”

  “You did not know?”

  Her ire was quickly becoming rage, but it would not do to lose her temper in front of the one man she needed to get her out of jail. Still, she couldn’t help gritting her teeth and clenching her fists. “He has tricked me!”

  “How so?”

  “He would not tell me how much he sold the mine for, and said he had but twenty thousand pounds left. He lied…he sat right there at the dinner table and lied to me!”

  Crisp smiled in spite of himself. “My dear, do you not see the irony? He tricked you, but not until after you tricked him.”

  “I see how you might think that, but they are two different matters. I only lied about who I was; he lied about money -- his is the unforgivable lie. Besides, I thought I was divorced before I married him. Lord Bayington promised.”

  “Did you happen to mention your other husbands to Mr. MacGreagor before you married him?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “I take that to mean no. Let us continue. Has Hannish MacGreagor divorced you?”

  “I doubt it; his kind is violently against divorce. Just the same, he refused to come back to Scotland; therefore he deserted me. I could divorce him, but you are well aware it is nearly impossible for a woman to petition the courts for a divorce. What was I to do but find another husband?”

  “I am beginning to see your reasoning. Charles Whitfield, husband number five, lied to you as well?”

  She turned away and once more looked out the window. “Men have a frightful habit of lying about money. I see that now, and I shall never trust a husband again.”

  “Quite wise of you…quite wise indeed. Tell me, is his father’s gold mine in the same Colorado where Hannish MacGreagor now lives?”

  “Is there more than one?”

  “No, I do not imagine there is. So you are now married to husband number five. What name did you give him?”

  “Georgia Montague, but no one knows we are married.”

  “Does Mr. Whitfield know about your other husbands?” Crisp asked.

  “Only the first and second. It could not be helped. Scotland Yard discovered us in Paris, arrested me and shockingly started to take me away. I had to tell Charles something, so I told him the truth.”

  Crisp raised both eyebrows. “That is shocking. How long ago did you marry him?”

  “One month and three days. I love him madly.”

  “I am certain you do, yet he only knows about husband one and two, not three and four. I advise you, my dear, to stay out of Colorado if you can. No good can come of being in the same place as two husbands, particularly when one does not know about the other. Now, I believe we might manage to get the charge of bigamy excused, but Mr. Sinclair wants his jewels back. If you can manage to do that or at least compensate him the value, I might be able to persuade him to drop the charges. What have you to say to that?”

  “You mean I might go free?”

  “You might at that. The prisons are full and I know just the judge to approach.”

  “How much does Mr. Sinclair say the jewels are worth?” she asked.

  “Five thousand pounds.”

  Alexandra nearly rose out of her chair. “Five…thousand…he lies too!”

  It was becoming almost impossible not to laugh, but Crisp managed it somehow. “It seems you’ve had quite a run of bad luck. Might I ask if you managed to keep Mr. Sinclair jewels, and perhaps, acquire a few new ones along the way? If so, you might…”

  “I could not part with my jewels, they are all I have.”

  “Might I remind you, Mrs. Sinclair, prison is a harsh place for women these days.”

  “How harsh?”

  “Much worse than where you are now. You could be sentenced to five years hard labor, and women do little more than laundry in prison. The cells are small and cold, the food is tasteless and…”

  Alexandra tightly closed her eyes for a moment. “Please, do not say another word. Tell Charles I give my permission to give over my jewels. They are in my necessities bag. I do hope he remembered to get it from the hotel in Paris.”

  “As do I.” Crisp stood up, straightened his jacket and shouted, “Mr. Attwater, w
e are finished.”

  A moment later, Attwater opened the door and walked to her. “Very well, come along, Mrs. Sinclair.” He waited for Alexandra to stand up and then took hold of her arm.

  John Crisp was not pleased. “Mr. Attwater, I advise you to see she is well taken care of, and that no further harm comes to her. I shall be back and with no advance warning.” He turned to Alexandra and nodded. “My dear, I advise you not to escape. I believe I shall soon have you out of here, and once all this is behind you, you will be free to live a peaceful, happy life.”

  At that prospect, Alexandra’s eyes brightened. “I promise.” As soon as Crisp was gone, her smile faded. According to the clock on the desk, it was near midnight in Colorado, and had Hannish MacGreagor not so cruelly tricked her into leaving, she would be sound asleep in her very own Marblestone Mansion bedroom.

  *

  A gentle breeze on a pleasant summer morning made it the perfect time to go riding. Born and raised in Scotland, McKenna MacGreagor loved the sport, although she had not ridden a horse since arriving in Colorado some six months earlier. Her brother, Hannish, preferred she not ride alone and there was always so much to do at Marblestone Mansion, she hesitated to ask any of the men to take her. Yet, there was something special she wanted to see that morning and when she asked Alistair, their prim and proper Scottish butler, he was more than willing to go riding with her.

  Following a well-used animal path, their adventure took them through the Aspen and pine trees, to a place where water cascaded down a modest hillside into a small pond. The water kept the shrubbery and the tall trees around it especially green and it seemed a little slice of paradise. McKenna was dressed in her brown riding habit, with no hat and her long dark hair piled on top of her head. Her bright blue eyes glistened in the sunlight, yet instead of being delighted with the discovery of the waterfall, she seemed distracted.

  Alistair suspected what was on her mind and pulled his horse up next to hers. “Do you wish to talk about him?”

  “I hardly know what to say anymore; I loved him and he married another. What else is there?”