“Again, I am aware.”
“Good, because it is no place for a lady, or any woman, for that matter,” Mr. Moore said. “I have been told that the governor and doctors are even reluctant to go amongst them.”
Greydon gave him a pointed look. “Yes, but you seem to forget that these are criminals. They were sent to Newgate for a reason.”
“They are still people,” Mr. Moore retorted in a firm voice.
“I do not dispute that.”
Mr. Moore offered him an apologetic smile. “Forgive me, I’m afraid I am rather passionate about this topic. I do believe our prison system needs to be reformed and the prisoners need to be treated more humanely.”
Greydon nodded. “I agree, but your arguments will fall on deaf ears, considering people are starving on the streets. Why should the prisoners be treated better than most people that reside in the rookeries?”
“It doesn’t make it right,” Mr. Moore said. “Female prisoners are pining away for want of food, air and exercise.”
“Then I suggest that they don’t break the law.”
Mr. Moore shook his head. “I take my apology back. I do not know why I expected more from you.”
“I am a man of the law, at least I was, and I have seen some vile things,” Greydon said. “But I am not without compassion. Perhaps we can enact change when we take our seats in Parliament.”
“I would like that.”
Greydon gave him an expectant look. “Can we go inside now, or would you like to debate religious reform as well?”
Mr. Moore’s lips twitched. “We can go inside, but I do hope you brought your handkerchief that has been dipped in rose water with you.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Very well,” Mr. Moore said before he started towards the main door.
Greydon matched the barrister’s stride and it wasn’t long before they stepped into The Keeper’s House. Two guards greeted them from behind a built-in desk.
“What is it that ye want?” the guard asked as he glared at them.
So much for hospitality, he thought. It was obvious that the guards did not want them here anymore than he wanted to be here.
A door opened from behind the desk and a familiar red-haired guard stepped into the hall. He met Greydon’s gaze and asked, “Mr. Campden, what brings you by today?”
One of the other guards spoke up. “Do you know this bloke, Walker?”
“I do, Bourne,” Walker replied. “He is a Bow Street Runner, and a good one at that.”
“Then what is he doing with a lying barrister?” Bourne pressed.
Mr. Moore cleared his throat. “You know that I can hear you, right?”
Bourne shrugged. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I was just merely stating a fact.”
“Can we just see Lady Eugenie?” Mr. Moore asked.
Walker lifted his brow. “That woman may look like a lady, but she is as cold as a stone on the inside,” he said. “You are wasting your time representing her.”
“It is my time to waste,” Mr. Moore said.
“Suit yourself,” Walker stated as he went to open the door. “Follow me.”
As Greydon followed the guard into the dark, narrow corridor, he tried to ignore the pungent smell of unwashed bodies. That was one smell that he would never get used to.
