Your Darkest Dream (Blackwood & Friends #2)

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Five

It was with no small amount of surprise that Nate found Lord Oliver Hollingsworth leaning negligently against the wall of a dimly lit, empty official-looking chamber he was being led into by a silently unimpressed warden. When he hesitated, only briefly, the stocky man that was escorting him from the room he had been contained in previously issued him a small nudge, not unkindly.

When Oliver squinted through the darkness and recognised Nate, his face broke into a wide smile and he came off the wall quickly. "Good to finally see you, Southill, though I must say I thought you would have lost weight during your incarceration," he quipped as he moved forward.

"I believe it has only been six days," Nate mumbled. As much as he was relieved to see his friend, he had specifically been denying requests for visits since his arrival. Oliver witnessing him at his lowest was almost too much to bear. Even now, he felt himself wince inwardly as the irons scraped and dragged along the stone floor, a constant reminder of what he was and what was to befall him. The metal was lighter and looser than what most inmates were subjected to, thankfully, but an infuriating method of degradation the keeper insisted on to enforce a payable garnish- the more money that swapped hands, the lighter the chains. It had applied to everything within Newgate and Nate, at the behest and generosity of his friends, had fared better than most.

Still, his correspondence with Hollingsworth had been through his solicitor, the only man Nate had allowed a visitation and only once to ensure that the handling of his estate was taken care of accordingly.

"What are you doing here?" he asked uneasily.

Oliver ignored him for a moment and instead pulled him in for back-thumping embrace. He stiffened uncomfortably but then relaxed because, though he was loath to admit it given his current predicament and status, it was good to see a familiar face. When Oliver finally released him, the young lord glanced drolly at the warden behind Nate. "I believe the irons are unnecessary, sir," he said implacably. "You may remove them now."

"Remove-" Nate's words bit off as the other man began to release and free him of the blasted things. Astonished, he stared at Oliver questioningly. "Hollingsworth, what are you doing here?"

"Would have been here sooner," he said, beaming at him with a lopsided smile as he began to extract a few neatly folded parchments from within his coat, "but it took awhile to convince the magistrate on duty to expedite proceedings. Thankfully, you are friends with a marquis and an earl whose pockets are quite deep. But maybe even more thankfully you are betrothed to one of the most waspish, foul-mouthed women on the planet. I believe ultimately Blanche is to thank in this case as I am quite sure it was fear alone of being harangued to death that convinced the magistrate to sign for your immediate release."

"My release?" He wouldn't, couldn't, allow himself to believe the words that were filtering through his mind. For endless minutes and hours within Newgate, Nate had resolved himself to his fate. His emotional wellbeing had depended on his ability to construct viable defences against the despair and longing that threatened to immobilize him at the prospect of never seeing the people he loved again, of never seeing Blanche again. He hadn't allowed himself to become hopeful, hadn't allowed himself to ever dream or conceive of a moment where he may have been relinquished from a fate he thought inevitable.

"You appear to be in some form of shock," Oliver mused aloud as he unfolded the papers, "however, while you process all this, I just need a few signatures from you, so if you could be so obliging-"

"Blanche is here?" Nate demanded, his gaze homing in on Oliver's suddenly. "Presently?"

"Most of us are," Oliver said, cocking his head to one side, "but you really do need to sign-"