“You assume I am not?”
“I know having Lady Enid as your mistress sounds appealing, but—”
Greydon cut him off. “I have no intention of taking Lady Enid on as a mistress, or any woman, for that matter.”
“Surely you do not wish to court Lady Enid?” his father asked, aghast. “It would be entirely improper for you to do so and it would bring ruination down on this family.”
“I am not looking to court Lady Enid either.”
His father looked visibly relieved by his admission. “Then why are you spending time with her?”
Greydon tugged down on the ends of his blue jacket. “My reasons are my own, and I do not need you prying into my business.”
“Be careful, Son,” his father advised. “No one may have given you heed as a second son, but you are now heir to an earldom. Your every move is being watched and scrutinized.”
“What a delightful thought,” Greydon muttered.
His father reached for a quill and dipped it into the ink pot. “I do not know what kind of hold Lady Enid has on you, but it will go nowhere. She is unfit to even be associated with you.”
Greydon took a moment to compose himself before saying, “You are wrong about Lady Enid. It is I who is not worthy of being associated with her.”
“That is ludicrous, and not at all true,” his father barked.
He knew that this conversation would go nowhere, and it would be best if he departed before his own temper flared. No matter what he said, he would never be able to convince his father how remarkable Enid truly was.
She was his dream. She made him want to be a better man, and all he wanted was to hold her in his arms. He thought about her all the time. Even now, when he was arguing with his father, he was thinking about Enid. There could never be another.
And that is when he knew he had done something intolerably stupid. With every moment he spent in her company, he’d grown to this moment, and suddenly he knew. He had fallen in love with Enid.
Greydon checked his pocket watch as he stood on the corner of Newgate Street and Old Bailey Street. He had arrived at the appointed time to meet with Mr. Moore, but the infuriating barrister was late.
He glanced over his shoulder at Newgate Prison and he resisted the urge to grimace at the stone edifice. This was a place that he wouldn’t wish upon his worst enemy. It was terribly overcrowded, dank, and many prisoners were chained to walls to languish and starve.
A hackney came to a stop in front of him and Mr. Moore stepped out onto the pavement. “My apologies for being late, but I assure you that it couldn’t be helped.”
Greydon doubted that, but he decided to keep that to himself. He was in no mood for excuses and Mr. Moore seemed to be in possession of quite a few.
Mr. Moore paid the driver and the hackney started rolling away. “Shall we go in?” the barrister asked.
“That is why we are here, is it not?” Greydon muttered.
“That it is,” Mr. Moore agreed. “Have you been into Newgate lately?”
Greydon frowned. “I try to avoid Newgate, if at all possible,” he replied.
“Smart, but I do hope you are prepared for the depravity that we are about to witness. It is not for the faint of heart.”
“You do not need to concern yourself about me.”
Mr. Moore shrugged. “Suit yourself, but I did warn you.”
“I am more than aware of the conditions of Newgate,” Greydon said.
“But have you been to where the women are housed?”
“I have not, but I imagine it is similar to the men’s side.”
Mr. Moore grew somber. “At times, as many as one hundred and twenty women are placed in a ward and they all sleep on the cold floor with only a thin layer of straw for bedding. Everything is filthy to the excess and the smell is horrendous.”
