June, 1815

On the day before Mrs. Emma Montgomery was to be hanged, a carriage bearing two plainly dressed women rolled at a fair pace through the hustle-bustle of afternoon commerce on Bridge Street toward The Palace of Westminster, wherein both the House of Lords and House of Commons were accommodated.

An occasional gentleman's head turned as the carriage passed by, although surely no one could have found no interest in the carriage itself. A gig of ancient vintage, it was much in need of paint and minor repair. Nor was the horse in any way remarkable. Although obviously well-cared for, it was sway-backed and well into middle age. The gentlemen's attention most certainly could not have been drawn by the older and larger of the two women. Stern jawed, dressed in black, she wore a formidable scowl and sat ramrod straight, gripping the reins in a manner suggesting no sane person would dare grab them away.

It was the younger woman sitting beside her who drew from every man who noticed her a reaction ranging from furtive glance to admiring stare. Slender but full-bosomed, she, too, sat ramrod straight, although without the uncompromising rigidness of her companion. Her dress and bonnet, both humdrum gray, suggested the dull attire of a governess, yet bright auburn curls peeked from beneath her sarcenet bonnet in a most un-governess-like fashion. Her delicate face, though currently set in solemn mode, gave the impression that her wide-set gray eyes could easily sparkle with merriment and her full red lips, presently pressed in a cheerless line, could readily tilt into an enticing smile. She was twenty-eight or so, not especially tall, with creamy skin, roses on her cheeks, and an air of confidence about her, although a worried frown had just flitted across her forehead.

Miss Lucy Winthrop was unaware of the admiring stares she attracted, if, in fact, she ever paid attention to men's calculating glances. Rather, she was listening intently to her sister, the formidable Mrs. Augusta Winthrop-Scott, who was currently exclaiming, "The trouble with you, my dear Lucy, is you don't take life seriously enough."

Lucy bit her tongue. No use protesting. Augusta, who was ten years older and considered herself twenty years wiser, was the most stubborn, obdurate woman Lucy had ever known. She was also the most generous, kind, understanding woman Lucy had ever known. When Lucy was eight, Augusta eighteen, and their widowed mother died, Augusta unquestioningly took on the responsibility of raising Lucy and their younger brother, Montague. For that, and other reasons, Lucy's love for Augusta knew no bounds. She would never forget the sacrifices her older sister had made for her.

Still, Augusta could be most trying at times.

"I'm here, aren't I?" responded Lucy, careful not to add that once again she had forfeited one of her precious, and few, free days "You know very well you have my full support. That poor woman, I cannot believe she's being put to death over what amounts to a minor offense. So unjust! I fully agree you should address Lord Sidmouth. My only problem is--"

"I sent a note ahead," interrupted Augusta, eyes suddenly blazing "Sidmouth must give me an audience immediately. I cannot bear to think that tomorrow morning Mrs. Emma Montgomery goes to the gallows. We must do everything we can to spare her life." As if to accent her words, Augusta sharply flicked the reins "Time is of the essence," she exclaimed as the horse momentarily picked up its pace. She slanted a gaze at her sister "What were you saying?"

Lucy suppressed a sigh "You know I'm only too happy to accompany you to Parliament. How could I say no? But I devoutly hope I don't catch sight of my employer. More to the point, I hope he doesn't catch sight of me."

"Lord Darwood?" Augusta looked down her nose "Humph, that ninny, that Whig! Didn't you tell me he went fishing at his estate in Scotland?"

"Yes, else I wouldn't be here. The problem is, I've worked for him for three years, so I know he has a penchant for suddenly changing his plans. So ninny or no, Whig or no, he is my employer, and if he returned early and saw me here with you--"

"You mean he's still not aware I'm your sister?" Augusta looked surprised and duly insulted.

Lucy returned a wry smile "I've managed to conceal that fact thus far."

"I am aghast!"

"You can be aghast all you want, but I must be practical "Lord Darwood loathes reformists. As far as he's concerned, those beneath his station do not, in essence, exist, and most certainly do not have any rights. If he discovers I'm related to the champion of the downtrodden, I would lose my position fast as light."

Augusta thrust her chin forward, in what was commonly her highly indignant pose "But I'm the so-called rabble-rouser, not you."

"It doesn't matter. Do you think Lord Darwood would allow me to tutor his children if he knew you were my sister? It's guilt by association if nothing else. Believe me, if there's one thing he cannot abide, it's those who advocate just laws for the poor."

Augusta bristled "Such as universal suffrage? Such as speaking up for those poor, suffering women in Newgate Prison? Such as trying to save Mrs. Emma Montgomery from the gallows?"

"Well ... yes." Lucy realized she was waffling. Never one to avoid an issue, she hastened to make her position clear "You devote your energies to those in need, Augusta. I admire you immensely for it. Last year when you came to Parliament and addressed the Committee on London Prisons, I thought I'd burst with pride."

"For all the good it did me," grumbled Augusta "Those heartless wretches strongly disapproved of my views on capital punishment. What do those nodcocks care that over two hundred offenses are punishable by death? You would wonder who in their right mind would put someone to death for stealing clothes or forging a banknote. Yet here, in supposedly merciful England, it's done all the time."

"You don't have to convince me," Lucy hastened to answer "Your presentation was splendid. By the time you finished, only a fool would not have seen we should revise our laws regarding capital punishment. And who would approve of the wretched conditions that exist for women at Newgate?"

"Yet they chose to ignore me." Bitterness edged Augusta's words "In the end, they did nothing except accuse me of not knowing my place. I'm only a woman. Therefore, I should stay home, scrub floors, and tend to my children."

Lucy's heart went out to her widowed sister, mother of three, who lived in a leaky-roofed cottage in Harford Lane, with only one servant, eking out a bare existence from the small stipend her husband had left her. But despite the constraints of poverty and having to raise her family, she had truly devoted her life to noble causes "But they did listen, Augusta, despite what they said. I suspect you did more good than you know."

Augusta appeared not to notice Lucy's words of comfort. After a short silence, she burst, "Those politicians! Selfish to the core, every last one of them. They know they've got the power. They, with their servants and fancy clothes and fine country houses. They don't give a farthing for the needy and destitute of this world and never will."

They had reached St. Stephen's gate at the Palace of Westminster. As Augusta guided the carriage to the curb and reined in the horse, she briskly nodded toward an elegantly dressed gentleman who had just emerged through the ornate, wrought iron gates guarding the entrance "See that man? The one in the drill trousers and fancy frock coat? There's your perfect example of upper-class decadence and sloth."

Lucy dutifully turned her attention to the object of Augusta's wrath: a dark-haired man in his early thirties, of medium height, slender, yet well-muscled. She was struck at once with how attractive he was, not only because of his physical appearance but because of the self-confident way he carried himself and the way he moved, not plodding along heavy-footed as many men did but light-footed, full of grace "Who is he?" she asked.

Augusta sniffed in disdain "That, my dear, is John Weston, Lord Granville, head of one of the richest, most influential families in England. Look at him! You can just see the smugness oozing from his pores. And why not? He's been privileged and petted since the day he was born."

"He's a member of Parliament?" Lucy asked.

"Indeed, yes, and likely to be prime minister one of these days. Before his father's death, he represented the borough of Wymouth, if I'm not mistaken. No doubt his father bought it for him. Now he's a peer. A Whig, of course, and--"

"Oh, no!" Lucy slammed her hand to her mouth.

"What is it, sister?" Augusta called, alarmed.

Lucy's heart raced as she answered, "The man walking through the gate now--it's my employer, Lord Darwood. He's supposed to be in Scotland!"

"Then he must have arrived home early. How unfortunate. You could duck beneath the seat if you like."

"If he looks this way, I shall!"

Augusta looked puzzled "But surely you won't lose your position simply because you're related to me."

"I fear you don't understand," Lucy answered, forcing a laugh.

For three years now she'd held her position as governess for the Earl of Darwood, grateful each day she'd had the wits to leave her previous position with Mister Joseph Weeton, a rich manufacturer from Manchester, where she'd been treated like a lowly servant. Since the Weetons considered her of too lowly a status to eat with the family, she'd been forced to dine alone. No room of her own, either. She'd slept on a trundle bed in the room of the two eldest daughters. Not only that, the Weeton children had all been unruly, without the slightest desire to learn, and had plagued her constantly, knowing she'd never dare complain.

So different from Stanton Manor, the Darwood's principal country home where she and the children spent much of their time. Despite Darwood's autocratic nature and arrogant attitude, she was given a lovely room of her own and was treated with respect. Best of all, the children, though lively, were eager to learn. The girls especially, and if she slipped a bit of Pythagoras and Newton in with their water colors, and pianoforte, then Lord and Lady Darwood, who were mostly taken up with their social life anyway, were none the wiser "I should hate to lose my position, Augusta, for more reasons than one."

Augusta gave her knee a reassuring pat "Don't worry, you can always come live with me."

What a horrible fate! Lucy shut her eyes a moment. She loved her sister dearly, but with her noble goals and just causes, Augusta was like an avalanche: unstoppable when started, sweeping every obstacle from her path. Lucy had no desire to entangle herself in Augusta's life. She had her own goals, her own just causes "That's very kind of you, Augusta, but--oh, look, he's joined Lord Granville."

"Good, he's distracted. Perhaps he won't notice you. If he does, and he comes this way, you can pretend you don't know me."

Lucy could almost laugh. Augusta was such a force that denying knowing her would be like denying the ocean was wet or the sky was blue "Look, they're starting to talk. Let's slip past. If my luck holds, Lord Darwood won't see me."

"Glad I caught you, Granville," said Percy Godwin, Lord Darwood, a stocky man of middle age with bulging eyes "I'm dying to have you meet Mrs. Ponsonby. What a woman! I shortened my sojourn in Scotland, just so I could be with her."

John Weston, Lord Granville, was not a man to tolerate any kind of artifice, including his own. He replied bluntly, "I'd gladly meet your latest mistress, Darwood, but I wager by the time I do you'll have a new one."

"But this one's special." A smile wreathed the short man's ruddy face "She's smooth of skin and on the plump side, like a juicy peach ripe for the picking. I've already leased her a house in Montpelier Square and got her a smart cabriolet." A wicked twinkle lit his eye "Next week I plan to drive her down to Brighton for some ... shall we say, amorous relaxation."

Granville made no effort to conceal his annoyance "You're just back from fishing in Scotland and now you're off again? I trust you're not planning on skipping the remaining sessions of Parliament."

Darwood rolled his eyes "Damme, Granville, must you always be so conscientious? Thank God, Parliament meets only a few months a year or I should be bored beyond all belief. What do I care about the tedious passage of laws? I've much better things to do with my time."

Granville lifted a sardonic eyebrow "Spoken like a true member of the aristocracy."

Darwood drew himself up "My dear boy, I may be a member of Parliament, but I don't consider it a life sentence, nor should you."

Granville knew all too well the futility of arguing, but he couldn't resist asking, "Don't you give a thought from time to time to the problems of the common man?"

"Please!" Darwood held up a protesting hand "My principles are no different from the fundamental canons of the Whig Party. I believe in ordered liberty, low taxation and the enclosure of land. What else is there?"

Granville returned a wicked grin "Not long ago, the French aristocracy held similar views. If memory serves, many of them are now without their heads."

"Good point!" Darwood laughed good-naturedly "I doubt that'll happen in merry old England, although any time they want to set the blade to that fat neck of Prinny's, I shouldn't be too displeased. Well, you're young yet. I give you a few more years in Parliament and you'll care for the rabble as much as I do. As for me, my life is splendid and satisfying, and I don't intend to ... oh, my word."

Lord Darwood's gaze had wandered to the curb where two women, both in plain dress, were alighting from an ancient carriage "There's that wretched woman..." His forehead furrowed in concentration "What is her name? I cannot--"

"Augusta Winthrop-Scott," Granville promptly replied "Don't you recall, she spoke before the Committee for Prison Reform last year, addressing the horrendous conditions for women in Newgate Prison. She made an excellent presentation. I was quite impressed."

Darwood sniffed "The rest of us were impressed at the brazenness of the woman. Whatever possessed her to appear before Parliament when she should have been home looking after her family?"

Words of reason formed on Granville's lips, but before he could utter them, he saw his friend's mouth drop open and his brow furrow in puzzlement "What is it, Darwood?"

"I bloody well cannot believe this! Do you see that woman with Augusta Winthrop-Scott? The pretty one in gray?"

"Of course I see her. Even from here one can see she's dashedly attractive."

"It's my governess, Miss Winthrop."

"So?"

"What do you mean, so?" Darwood looked a trifle wild-eyed "Whatever is she doing with that rabble-rousing woman? If there's any connection between my governess and that..." Sudden realization lit his face. "But there must be! Miss Winthrop ... Mrs. Winthrop-Scott ... my God, they must be related." His jaw jutted with purpose "If they are, out she goes."

"But didn't you once tell me you were more than pleased with Miss Winthrop? That your children couldn't be in better hands?"

If Darwood heard, he paid no heed. Instead, scowling fiercely, he started toward the two women "I shall get to the bottom of this, and if there's a connection--any connection at all--Miss Lucy Winthrop shall summarily be dismissed."

"It appears he's headed this way," Lucy said. A sick feeling pervaded her stomach as she watched her employer approach with purpose in his step and castigation in his eyes. Following behind, reluctantly it appeared, came his companion, Lord Granville.

"Good afternoon, your lordship," Lucy said as her employer arrived. She dipped a curtsy, willing herself to stay calm "You must be just back from Scotland. I trust you enjoyed the fishing." She gestured toward Augusta "I would like you to meet--"

"Might I ask why you are not home with my children?" Lord Darwood interrupted. He kept glaring at Lucy and had yet to cast a single glance at Augusta.

"Sir, it's my free day." Lucy felt pleased she'd managed to quell her instant annoyance and sound utterly tranquil.

"Oh." Darwood looked abashed but only for a moment. He shot a look at Augusta and said with thinly veiled sarcasm, "Ah, if it isn't Mrs. Winthrop-Scott."

Augusta drew herself up in what Lucy always liked to call her battle stance: chin high, shoulders back, her considerable bosom thrust forward "You know me, sir?"

Darwood returned a slight taunting bow "I remember you well, madam, from your visit to Parliament a year or so ago. You, as I recall, are the champion of good causes. So tell me, what draws you to Parliament this fine day? Let me guess. Could it be another selfless mission to help all those poor, downtrodden women in Newgate?"

Lucy's throat tightened with anger. How dare this man address her sister in such a mocking fashion? She spoke up sharply, "I take it you've never seen the conditions under which women live at Newgate Prison. Well, I have, sir, and I can tell you they're appalling. Picture three hundred women all crammed together, some with babies. They're sleeping on the floor without nightclothes or bedding. They're living in filth, cooking and washing and sleeping all in the same cell. My sister is right. It's a disgrace. Something must be done!" Surprised at herself, Lucy drew a deep breath and marveled at her outburst. Always in perfect control of herself, not once had she ever thrown caution to the winds and defied her employer. He looked taken aback. In fact, he had actually flinched.

No doubt she would be immediately dismissed.

Augusta joined the conversation "We are both here on what you call a selfless mission, Lord Darwood. We're trying to save the life of a poor woman sentenced to hang tomorrow."

Lord Granville, who had been standing relaxed, hand on hip in the background, listening intently, stepped forward "Is that the woman accused of forgery?"

Augusta asked in surprise, "You've heard of her?"

"Not an hour ago I was talking to Lord Sidmouth. He mentioned you had sent word you were coming to plead the poor woman's case."

"Never in the world has there been such a miscarriage of justice," Augusta hotly declared "Mrs. Montgomery was forced to pass those forged banknotes under pressure from her husband."

Lucy added, "He abused her constantly. No doubt she would have been beaten severely had she refused him."

"It does seem unfair," commented Granville.

Lucy, who had been gazing intently at Lord Darwood, waiting for his words of dismissal, turned her attention to the dark, slender man by his side. Up close, she found him even more handsome. His shoulders were broad, his waist trim, his stomach flat. A careless lock of wavy, dark, long hair fell over his forehead, giving him a dashing, devil-may-care demeanor "Unfair is an understatement," she replied as she looked into two of the warmest brown eyes she'd ever seen. Something uncommon flared within her "Do you think Lord Sidmouth will be amenable to a reprieve for Mrs. Montgomery?" she asked, hoping her discomfit didn't show.

Before Lord Granville could answer, Darwood burst into derisive laughter "Not a chance! Sidmouth considers reformers dangerous. He firmly believes crime will run rampant in the streets if you remove the dread of punishment from the criminal."

"What nonsense," declared Augusta "We are here to talk some sense into Lord Sidmouth's head. I vow, we'll do everything we can to spare the life of that unfortunate woman."

"We can but try," Lucy added with quiet firmness. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked into those brown eyes again.

Lord Granville smiled back "I wish you luck," he said softly, in a voice that held infinite compassion.

"It'll take more than luck, I'd wager," said Darwood. He turned to Lucy "I note your last name is Winthrop. Are you in any way related to Mrs. Winthrop-Scott?"

Here it came. Lucy felt a nudge in her side from Augusta's elbow--a reminder, no doubt, that Lucy need not admit a thing. But that was nonsense. Lucy had never been less than honest. This was no time to start lying now. She swallowed her anger, managed a pleasant smile, and laid an affectionate hand on Augusta's shoulder "How perspicacious of you, Lord Darwood. I'm proud to say this lady is my sister."

Lord Darwood's face immediately flushed red. He sputtered a moment before he answered, "I had no idea! You should have told me. This makes all the difference in the world. I shall not, under any circumstances--"

"We must be going, Darwood," interrupted Lord Granville "The debates are about to begin. You do want to be there, don't you?" He shot a meaningful look at his companion.

For a brief moment, Darwood looked nonplused, as if he had forgotten where he was "I ... er ... oh, well, yes. Certain matters can wait. So let us be off, Granville. Good day, ladies." His features hardened as he focused on Lucy "We shall discuss a certain matter later. Obviously now is neither the time nor place."

"Of course," Lucy managed, weak with relief that for the moment she'd been spared. As the two men moved away, she turned to Augusta "I was positive he was going to dismiss me on the spot."

"Lord Darwood was angry," Augusta answered "He'll soon come to his senses. When he calms down, he'll realize he'll never find another governess as capable as you." She paused, then asked accusingly, "Liked him, didn't you?"

"Liked who?" Lucy asked, all innocence.

"Lord Granville, of course. I saw the way you pushed your chest out and sucked in your stomach when you knew he was watching."

"I did no such thing!" Lucy thought a moment and realized there was no fooling perceptive Augusta "You must admit, he's an extremely attractive man."

"I'm surprised you took notice," Augusta replied with more than a trace of irony "I thought you'd all but forgotten the existence of men."

"Not entirely." What an understatement, thought Lucy. During her ten years as a governess, her several employers would have deemed it extremely improper if she'd shown an interest in anything other than her duties, and that most definitely included men. Still, sometimes at night when she'd climbed into her bed, exhausted after caring for small children all day, her thoughts drifted to a fantasy of a faceless man, warm of voice, confident and strong, who would sweep her into his arms and whisper he loved her. Idiocy, of course. She had long since resigned herself to stop looking for love and concentrate instead on being the best governess she could be. Eventually, if she ever saved enough money, she would open a school for girls and become its mistress. Either way, there was no room for a man in her life and she would remain a spinster until ... She laughed to herself because one of Augusta's favorite phrases had popped into her mind: until I dry up and blow away.

"I still think you should have married Thomas Craig," said Augusta, referring to the shy schoolmaster in the village where they'd been raised.

"I didn't love Thomas Craig." Lucy tried to curb her impatience. They had gone through this exchange many times.

"Foolishness." Augusta grimaced "I told you years ago you'd dry up and below away if you waited around to marry for love. As for Lord Granville, I cannot think of a man who would be more unsuitable."

Lucy laughed in reply "Well, I haven't dried up yet, have I? Don't worry, Augusta, just because I find a man attractive doesn't mean I shall go cakey over him. As for Lord Granville, 'unsuitable' is hardly the word."

"I'm glad you see that. Lord Granville is one of them, Lucy. He lives in a world of privilege and luxury, a world that cares not one whit for the common man."

"I know, but still ... is he entirely without compassion?" inquired Lucy, genuinely wondering "I had the distinct feeling he was sympathetic to our cause. And at the end, when I could have sworn Lord Darwood was about to dismiss me, I suspect it's by design Lord Granville lured him away."

Augusta awarded her a fierce scowl "Granville's a widower, you know, but if you're thinking--"

"Are you daft?" Lucy could not control another burst of laughter "I'm merely a poor governess, whereas Lord Granville is wealthy, titled, and from one of the grandest families in all England. What folly to think he'd even look twice at me!"

"Don't forget, our father was a baron," said Augusta.

"A poverty-stricken baron. Rest assured, I know my place."

"Good." Augusta nodded with satisfaction "Bear in mind, Lord Granville may seem sympathetic to our cause, but like the rest of the aristocracy, when the chips are down, he'll side with those elitist friends of his. Now, enough of your problems. Don't forget why we came. Come along."

Augusta headed at a brisk pace toward the Palace of Westminster. Lucy followed behind, feeling properly guilty. Her sister was right. The most serious of Lucy's problems paled in comparison to the plight of Mrs. Emma Montgomery. Still ... ?

Lucy knew in her heart Augusta was wrong when she said Lord Darwood would come to his senses. He would not. The man was most extremely arrogant, treating his inferiors with a patrician insolence that seemed almost the reverse of good breeding. What a pity that he, as a member of Parliament, directed England's destiny when all he cared about was satisfying his own selfish vices. Of course he was going to dismiss her!

Lord Granville--what a handsome man he is. The uninvited thought thrust its way into Lucy's head as she trailed behind her sister. Then she felt guilty again for her callousness in thinking of an attractive man when tomorrow Mrs. Emma Montgomery, penniless, mistreated, and completely undeserving, was destined to meet her fate on the gallows.