Taking advantage of her surprise, he stalked over and plucked his file from her hand. “A barrister. As in one who practices as an advocate in English courts of law.” Duncan returned his latest case file to his desk.
As he set to retrieving the documents that had fallen to the floor, the young woman followed his every movement. “I know what a barrister is.” Fury flashed in her eyes, briefly freezing him in his tracks. Not because of the anger there, but for the glittering sparks of silver that danced in those blue eyes. Eyes so blue they put him in mind of the river in Malmesbury where he and Charlie had tossed pebbles as they’d made wishes together.
It was the rare instant that Duncan was proven wrong in matters of fact. This moment, he’d concede, marked one of those rarest of occasions. He’d taken her for ugly on sight. Now, he acknowledged… though she was not pretty, there was something intriguing about the minx before him.
And then, a slow, dawning horror crept into her eyes. “You are Lathan Holman’s barrister, which means…”
He shook his head.
“You will be arguing against Henry Pratt.”
“At your service,” he muttered, slamming the rest of his papers onto his desk. “And what do you know of either Pratt or Holman, for that matter?”
A precariously balanced folio tumbled over the edge of his desk.
Her cheeks flushed with color, and she stepped over the file. “Uh-uh…”
Wonder of wonders, her displeasure had moved from his failed fathering to some other offense. “God bless you,” he said.
“I did not sneeze.”
“I know.”
It’d been a jest. A practice which he was decidedly out of practice with.
The young woman widened her eyes. “You’re teasing me.”
And doing a rather poor job of it. He fought the urge to yank at his suddenly tight collar. “You would benefit a good deal from a lesson in teasing.”
Her eyes bulged. “Did you just… use my own words against me?”
And damn if, even with the embarrassment of his failed jest, he wasn’t… enjoying himself. Which was no doubt a product of the fact that he’d been working without a break since he’d been first approached by Lathan Holman’s family. Nay, longer. He’d not teased a woman, not even his own daughter, since well before his wife’s betrayal and then death. Reminders of his past quashed all amusement. “I will not be the one to be delivering those lessons, miss.” Once again, Duncan stalked over to the doorway. This time, he made no attempt to open it until the young woman joined him.
Which she, of course, did not.
“We’re not done here, Mr. Everleigh.”
“Yes, we are. I have work to do.”
The virago planted her hands on her hips, and for someone one foot shorter than he did a stunningly impressive job of staring down her nose at him. “On behalf of a man who betrayed his country. And I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out that you are working for a traitor while ignoring your own daughter.”
Red filled his vision. Burning, fiery rage, and he called forth every last lesson in self-control he’d mastered. “You know nothing about me, nor my case, madam. As such, I’d suggest you leave and stick to gathering your information from whatever scandal sheets you’re finding it.”
The young woman dug in her heels. “I don’t gather my knowledge from scandal sheets.”
“Then tell me…” Duncan started toward her, and the chit showed her first hint of reservations as she backed quickly away from him. “If you haven’t gathered your knowledge from the gossip, where have you learned about my client?” He stopped on the opposite end of his desk, the young woman across from him.
“My brother—” She promptly pressed her lips together.
He chuckled. “Of course. An enlightened woman who’s formed an opinion on a case she knows nothing about because of details her brother shared.”
Outrage glinted in her expressive eyes, and she opened her mouth to no doubt deliver another of her impressively stinging retorts. But then she went unexpectedly silent.
“You’ve stayed long enough now.” He turned toward the door.
“You believe he is innocent?” she asked, staying him with that question. There was no mockery or condescension, but rather, curiosity.
Again, Duncan faced her. Coming around his desk, he approached the stubborn minx. This time, the young woman didn’t retreat, increasing an unwanted intrigue with the mysterious stranger. “Do you know what I believe, Miss…?” he whispered, lowering his lips close to her ear.
He stood so close he could see the graceful glide of her throat as she swallowed. The scent of her, lemons and honey and innocence, proved briefly distracting. “P—Webb,” she said in husky tones. “Josephine Webb.”
Was she afraid of him? Undoubtedly, she was. That reminder proved sobering. Duncan straightened. “Do you know what I believe, Miss Josephine Webb? I believe you people—”
“You people?” she demanded, faintly breathless.
“All of Society form your opinions. You crucify a person for crimes you know nothing of. You play arbiter of fates and futures, based on nothing more than flimsy details, all the while being dispossessed of meaningful information about those same individuals. Now, I won’t tell you again…” He made the mistake of sliding his gaze down toward her heaving chest, to the slight swell of breasts that strained the fabric of her muslin cloak. Stay. Stay? Good God, what manner of foolishness inspired that lax slip? “Leave,” he said more sharply than he’d intended.
The young woman’s chest rose and fell.
For a moment, he believed the spirited stranger would stay and continue to challenge him.
For an even longer moment, he wanted her to. Which was preposterous and outrageous and defied all reason.
Reason that he prided himself on having a firmer than firm grasp upon.
“Very well,” she said, patting at her loose chignon. She was just one shake of her head from tumbling those auburn curls kissed with so many shades of red. “I’ll leave. But before I do, I suggest you commit to spending as much concern and time on your daughter’s whereabouts as your clients’ cases.”
And with that, at last, she left.
Chapter 5
Insolent.
Condescending.
Self-important.
“Rude and obnoxious,” Josephine muttered aloud, her gaze firmly fixed on the passing London landscape as her driver returned her home from her peculiar run-in with a girl and her father.
“What was that, miss?” her maid asked from the opposite bench.
Having forgotten the young woman’s presence, she glanced over. “Nothing,” she lied. “It is nothing at all.” This time, Josephine simmered in silent fury.
How dare Duncan Everleigh? He’d been rude and insolent and judgmental. How dare he call her out? He knew her not at all and, in a short period, had formed an opinion. And by the icy derision in his gaze, that opinion hadn’t been a high one. At all. Josephine gnashed her teeth.
And yet…
Correct. The barrister had also been… correct.
The carriage rocked to a stop, and she remained frozen on her bench with the staggering weight of that unwanted realization. There’d been truth to his accusations. Ones that she wished weren’t accurate and ones she’d have greatly enjoyed refuting… but she’d been unable to.
You crucify a person for crimes you know nothing of. You play arbiter of fates and futures, based on nothing more than flimsy details, all the while being dispossessed of meaningful information about those same individuals.
Hadn’t the information she’d taken to be fact where Lathan Holman was concerned come from the knowledge she’d gleaned from her brother’s work on the case? Holman was likely a traitor… but what if he wasn’t? What if there was, in fact, truth to Everleigh’s claims of Holman’s innocence?
Stop it. Mr. Everleigh hadn’t even specifically attested to his client’s innocence. Instead, he’d shamed Josephine for h
aving formed an opinion without being in possession of all the details. Those were two very different things. One was a statement to the man’s innocence. The other was an indictment against her character. She sat upright. Why… why… she wasn’t in the wrong here. He was the one representing a traitor. What did that say about his honor and character?
So why, as the driver opened the door and helped her down, did she feel less confident than when she’d blistered Mr. Everleigh’s ears with her disapproval?
Determined to set her run-ins that morning from her mind, she hurried up the steps with Muriel struggling to keep pace.
No sooner had she reached the top of the patio, the double doors were thrown wide. “Hello, Lind—” Her greeting for the family butler died as she greeted not one… not two… but three pairs of concerned eyes.
Well, in fairness, two were concerned, and one gaze was more annoyed than anything else. Her brothers, Henry and Nolan, and her sister-in-law, Sybil, all stared back.
Oh, bloody hell.
With a regretful look, her maid scurried inside and continued a steady march above stairs.
“Well? What do you have to say, Jo?” Henry demanded.
Now, that was a charged question. It implied serious upset but, given the morn she’d had, could really pertain to anything. Unclasping her cloak, she shrugged out of it. “Hullo?”
“That is it?” Henry demanded.
“Surely it’s not a curtsy you’re seeking?”
Nolan rested a hand on the younger man’s arm, cutting into whatever next words Henry intended to hurl at Josephine’s response.
The butler collected Josephine’s garment and then rushed off, but not before he’d flashed her a commiserative wink.
“I have been here nearly an hour,” Henry said, “waiting for you to arrive from your shopping, or whatever it is you did after you left. When I should be working.”
Sybil glanced pointedly at the footman who hovered in the wings. “I hardly believe this is the place for a family discussion.”
Henry made to speak, no doubt to issue his usual pompous masculine opinion on a lady’s place in decisions and discussion, but a single warning look from Sybil effectively silenced him.
Ah, now that was a skill to be admired. Sybil. God, love her. Clever, witty, and unafraid to go to battle with anyone. She also, however, remained the only woman Nolan seemed to believe capable of any real strength.
A short while later, closeted away in Nolan’s office, Henry launched into his diatribe.
“This behavior is unacceptable. Do you hear me? Unacceptable.”
Knowing it would infuriate her stodgy brother, she forced a yawn. “And precisely which behavior have you deemed unacceptable? It really could be anything with you, Henry.”
Behind the lenses of his wire-rimmed spectacles, his eyes bulged. “Are you making light of this?” He didn’t allow time for an answer, but rather, turned to Nolan. “She is making light of this.”
“I see that,” Nolan drawled, and as he took up a seat behind his desk, he waved Josephine into one of the winged chairs opposite him. It wasn’t an invitation, but rather, another directive.
Because, once more, even devoted loving brothers proved unable to relinquish control to a younger sister. As such, Josephine remained rooted to the spot she’d taken up in the middle of his office.
Henry stormed over to Nolan’s desk. “She must stop this. It isn’t natural. You let her go dashing off without a servant when she so much as feels like it. She is out of control.”
“I’m not a wild boar, Henry,” she drawled, forcing a feigned dryness to that retort even as rage spiraled through her. “Furthermore, in case it escaped your notice, I had my lady’s maid with me.” This time.
Ignoring her, Henry slammed his palms onto Nolan’s desk. “She visited my offices.”
“I hardly think that’s cause for panic,” Sybil said dryly. Drifting over in a rustle of silver satin skirts, she positioned herself alongside her brother-in-law. “After all, for everything women are wrongly prohibited from doing, they are still permitted to observe courtroom proceedings. I trust visiting one’s brother at his offices can, therefore, be considered an even lesser offense.” Her droll tones sent color to Henry’s cheeks.
“It isn’t natural, wishing to speak with me about my cases. In front of my partners.”
“Of course that is what you should be so concerned about,” Josephine muttered to herself, her critique going ignored by Henry. Appearances had always mattered most to Henry. They’d mattered too much and was why, after his father-in-law had discovered her helping him on his last case, her brother had cut her off from helping. If she hadn’t wanted to slap him upside his head for being an obnoxious dunderhead, she might actually pity him instead. “For that matter, none of your partners were about.”
“They could have been,” he shot back, like an angry child refusing to give up possession of a coveted toy.
“I’d expect you’d be more concerned with winning your case against a traitor.” She shrugged. “But then again, what do I know?”
From the corner of her eye, she caught the smile tugging at Sybil’s lips.
“Furthermore, it is untoward this fascination she has with my work,” Henry said to Nolan.
Josephine wagged her fingers. “I’m here. You might speak to me, you know.”
Henry glowered. “If I thought it would make a difference, I might.”
“Jo has always been curious,” Nolan began placatingly.
She frowned. Except… no other words of defense were forthcoming. No reminder about the capabilities and strength of a woman, strengths he could well-speak to because of the wife who handled his finances. “That is all you’ll say?” she asked. “‘Jo has always been curious,’” she repeated in such a masterful mimicry that Nolan frowned. “Is that supposed to be some manner of defense?” He’d make her out to be a flighty girl with mercurial interests?
“She has always been an oddity,” Henry went on, as though she’d not interjected.
“Has she?” Josephine clipped out. They’d discuss her in the third-person entity whose actions they freely assessed and discussed and, in Henry’s case, found wanting.
“But since her breakup with Lord Grimslee, she’s developed all manner of unsuitable ideas.”
She curled her palms at her sides into reflexive fists of hurt and fury. How dare he? How dare her brother be so flippant? She’d been just a fortnight away from marrying, only to have her betrothed sever their arrangement so he might find a wife—and in-laws—with unblemished reputations. And now, Henry and Nolan would speak so casually about that humiliating breakup that had ended through no fault of hers.
Josephine’s throat moved painfully, and she looked away. Damn them. Damn them to hell.
“I’d suggest you both cease speaking about her as if she weren’t here,” Sybil said tightly, placing herself shoulder to shoulder with Josephine. Her sister-in-law flashed her a look of support before directing her ire at Nolan. “I hardly think Josephine’s interests are really a reason to call a family meeting.”
“I disagree,” Henry said, adjusting his impeccably folded cravat. “As a brother, I’m obliged to look after my sister. She came to me—”
Josephine’s body went taut. He wouldn’t.
“—seeking employment because she is concerned about our family’s financial state.”
And, of course, he had. Josephine silently cursed.
A thick tension descended over the room, with even Sybil falling back a step.
“He’s stating it as something different than it was,” Josephine said in a bid to break the impasse and lose any more hand in this discourse.
“Am I?” Henry charged. “Did you not indicate that Nolan and I have been unable to turn the family’s fortunes around?”
Three pairs of eyes went to her. One gloating. One hurt. And one, her sister-in-law’s, implacable.
“That’ll be all for today, Henry,” Nolan said quiet
ly.
Her other brother, however, dug his heels in, refusing to go anywhere until he’d secured the victory he sought. “She is not to come around my offices, Nolan. She is a distraction that prevents me from seeing to my casework.”
“I’ll speak to her,” Nolan vowed.
Tightening his mouth, Henry looked between Josephine and Nolan. “See that she doesn’t embarrass me again, Nolan.” With a sharp glance for Josephine, Henry stalked off, leaving Josephine, Nolan, and Sybil alone.
Silence hung for a moment in the room.
“Well, I say he handled that better than expected,” Josephine drawled.
“Josephine—” Nolan began.
“I’m able to help him, Nolan.”
“I don’t doubt that,” he returned, not so much as missing a beat. And for all the ways in which he’d disappointed her during Henry’s visit, she was reminded all over again why he’d always been her favorite brother. Henry had taken her help over the years and hated himself—and Josephine—for it. Nolan had just loved her.
“It’s his foolish pride and nothing more.” Men had it in spades.
Regret paraded across her oldest brother’s face. “You do not need to contribute financially. We are doing just fine.”
“We’re not,” she rebutted. She was tired of men, even well-meaning ones, trying to coddle her. “I well know what you lost… what we lost when Lord Grimslee severed your arrangement with him.” Her brother and betrothed had been on the cusp of partnering in a mining venture.
His jaw tensed. “I don’t want a partner who’d so easily vacillate.”
Yes, she agreed with her brother on that score. But the truth remained, the Pratts would have been better off with that investment, and they were worse off for losing it.
She attempted to reason with him. “It is not just about earning funds of my own. I’ve rather come to enjoy studying Henry’s legal books.”
Regret twisted the muscles of Nolan’s face. “Because I sold off the volumes you once enjoyed.”
The Minx Who Met Her Match Page 6
