Scandalous Desires (Maiden Lane #3)(97)

—from Clever John

Mick O’Connor lay on a bed of straw in Newgate Prison’s castle—the strongest cell in the prison—and contemplated his life.

The life that very well might end on the morn tomorrow.

After a month of prison he had an escape plan, of course, for he was a man who’d spent a lifetime planning. The castle was near break-proof, and a dozen of Captain Trevillion’s dragoons had been assigned to guard him. They were immune to bribes, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t see visitors. Pepper had made several calls, helping Mick to set his affairs in order, and it’d been child’s play to smuggle out an escape plan to the rest of his men.

Mick had calculated that the best time to make an escape was just before the execution cart reached the gallows tomorrow morning. There would be crowds of people, families out for a holiday, hawkers selling meat pies and fruit, and of course scores of soldiers. But the soldiers would be hampered by the crowds. If his men made a commotion just as the cart neared Tyburn gallows, they would draw the attention of both the soldiers and the crowds. During the confusion a second group of his men might be able to rescue him.

It was a long shot escape plan, but it was his only chance. He’d gambled before on his life and won. Why not now, as well?

On the whole Mick had few, if any, regrets. He didn’t regret pirating, he didn’t regret the men he’d killed in his life, and he sure as bloody hell didn’t regret throwing vitriol into Charlie’s face and saving himself from a buggering at the age of thirteen.

There was one thing he did wish he could change, though. He regretted that he hadn’t found the proper words to make Silence stay with him. He should’ve lied, should’ve told her he’d give up the pirating, give up the palace, give up anything she damned well wanted if she’d only stay with him. Hell, maybe he should’ve really given up the pirating for her. He wanted only to sit at a table with her and feed her exotic foods that made her beautiful hazel eyes widen with wonder. And later he’d make her eyes widen in other ways. He’d caress her creamy skin and tell her—

Tell her what?

Jaysus. He’d tell her that he loved her. That she was the only woman save his poor mam that he’d truly loved.

Mick squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the laughter, the moaning, and the cries that were Newgate Prison. If he had it to do over again he would’ve chained her to his bed and made sweet love to Silence until she admitted that she couldn’t live without him.

Because God knew that he couldn’t live without her.

He’d stay with her always, perhaps even marry her, if she insisted. He chuckled to himself to think of Charming Mickey O’Connor domesticated. And if they someday had a babe—

His eyes suddenly snapped open on that thought.

He’d never considered—because he’d always thought she’d stay, damn it—that she might be with his child.

Jaysus! Mick jumped to his feet, pacing the length of his leg irons, barely six feet. If Silence were with child, she’d be frantic. He didn’t give a damn or not if his child were born a bastard, but she would be deeply ashamed. She’d be an outcast. Her family loved her, but they were very strict. Would they toss her into the street? Where would she find the funds to care for both Mary Darling and a new babe? Dear God.

“Thinkin’ on that noose?” the gaoler, a dirty little man who was puffed with pride that he was guarding the notorious Mickey O’Connor asked. Of course the real guarding was done by the dragoons, but that didn’t bother the gaoler. His ugly face appeared at the barred window on the cell door, fingering his own neck. “The last one we ’ung ’ad ’is neck stretched near a foot.”

Mick ignored the man, going to sit on the clean straw pallet he’d purchased at an exorbitant sum, his head in his hands. After a bit he no longer heard the gaoler’s voice, so the man must’ve grown weary of taunting a prisoner who wouldn’t respond.

But that didn’t matter to Mick. All that mattered was Silence and what he might’ve done to her.

Mick closed his eyes again and did something he hadn’t done since he was thirteen.

He prayed.

THE STREETS WERE still dark, the dawn only an hour away when Silence made her way to Newgate prison.

“This’s barmy,” Bert growled. “Sneakin’ about the streets in the dark. ’Imself will ’ave our ’eads.”

“Don’t think even ’Imself can ’ave us punished, where ’e’s now,” Harry said soberly.

“I need to see him, Bert,” Silence said. “Don’t you understand? I love him. I can’t just let him go to his—”

She cut herself off with a choked sob. No, not now. There would be time afterward to weep and wail. Now she had to be strong for Michael. She hadn’t seen him in over month. Winter and Temperance hadn’t wanted her to visit him in Newgate Prison during the trial. Only with his death sentence had they relented, admitting that it might be best for her to see him one last time.

Harry patted her shoulder awkwardly. “We do understand, ma’am. Like a fairy story it is, yer love for ’Imself. And we’ll make sure ye see ’im afore…”

Harry broke off and gulped.

The two guards might be stoic about it, but Silence had seen their faces on the day the news of Michael’s sentence had been announced. Harry’s big ugly face had sagged into permanent lines of sorrow, while Bert had surreptitiously swiped at his eyes when he thought no one was looking.