Beguiling the Barrister

by Wendy Soliman

  Reluctantly he broke the kiss and smiled at her.

  “We’d best not carry on,” he said reluctantly. “I’m not always quite as disciplined as you seem to think, and this is certainly one of those occasions.”

  She laughed up at him. “I can feel the extent of your discipline pushing against me.”

  Darius lifted her from his lap and seated her next to him. “Touch me,” he said on impulse. He guided her hand to his erection, pushing against the fabric of his breeches. “Feel what you do to me, sweetheart.”

  She closed her fingers around his shaft, her eyes wide with curiosity. “It seems criminal to waste it,” she said, eliciting a sharp exclamation from him when her fingers sank into the rigid flesh.

  “Perhaps this isn’t such a good idea after all.” He removed her hand and rested one arm across the back of her shoulders, pulling her head onto his chest and settling her comfortably against him. “What were we talking of?”

  “You insist on behaving yourself rather than ravishing me?”

  Darius laughed. “I think you know where my preference lies.”

  “Very well then. We will continue to discuss your raison d’être and—”

  “That would be you,” he pointed out, kissing the top of her head.

  “I thought you wished to behave yourself.”

  “I’m trying, my dear,” he said chuckling. “Really trying, but you are temptation incarnate.”

  “Thank you, I think.” Flick smiled at him. “Putting your estate back on the right footing would have been enough to show the world that you were not your father.” She brushed the curls back from his brow, frowning as she thought it through. “I believe you practise law simply because you wish to help the less fortunate.”

  “That’s certainly true but I sometimes wonder if I’m wasting my time.”

  “It would be so much easier for you to remain at Brightstone Manor and increase your income from the estate. Instead, something drives you to grapple with our unfair laws, but not for the money you make from it.” She smiled up at him. “I’m inordinately proud of you, if that means anything—”

  “It means a very great deal,” he said, resisting the urge to pull her back into his arms.

  “You’ll win the Cuthbert case, become King’s Counsel and we will marry. You’ll then become a cause célèbre in the legal world, people will flock to follow your example and I shall bask in reflected glory.”

  Darius laughed. “You’re biased.”

  “Well, of course I am. I—” A commotion in the hall caused her to pause. “It sounds as though Hal and Leah are back.”

  Darius tucked a stray curl behind her ear and checked that her bodice was entirely straight. He winked at her and stood to lean nonchalantly against the mantelpiece. Flick’s lips were swollen, her face flushed and his tumescence had yet to subside.

  The door opened and Leah and Beth joined them, Hal immediately behind.

  “Good evening,” Darius said. “Did you enjoy the evening, ladies?”

  Hal glanced at them both and flashed a brief grin. “Probably not as much as you did,” he said.

  “I hear you created quite a stir this evening, Mr. Grantley,” Leah said, taking the seat he’d just vacated beside Flick.

  “I’d hardly call it that.”

  “Well, you must tell me all about it on Tuesday evening. My brute of a husband isn’t saying a word.”

  “Tuesday evening?”

  “Yes, if you’re free.” Leah smiled at Flick as she spoke. “I know it’s terribly unfashionable, but Hal’s insisting on a quiet family dinner at least twice a week. That’s the price we must pay for persuading him to escort us to balls.” Leah laughed. “He pretends not to enjoy these society events but I have my own views on that subject.”

  “Now that he has you,” Darius said, “I’m sure it’s a pleasure rather than a chore to show himself in society.”

  “Thank you. I don’t mind for myself, staying at home I mean, when we really ought to show ourselves more.” She glanced at the cards lined two deep along the mantelpiece. “It’s Beth,” she added in an undertone. “She still isn’t strong enough for nightly entertainment and I worry that all the excitement will set her back.”

  Darius nodded sympathetically. Leah and Beth had only moved to Denby to live in their uncle’s gatehouse because Beth suffered from a complaint of the lung. The doctor had recommended her removal from the grimy streets in London where they were forced by straitened circumstances to live. It was a fortunate twist of fate, since Leah and Hal met there, dramatically changing the whole course of the sisters’ lives.

  “She is much improved since our doctor took over her care,” Flick remarked.

  “I’m very glad to hear it. Young ladies so enjoy the diversions of a London season in full swing. It would be a shame if she couldn’t partake of the entertainments.”

  “Then we are of one mind on the subject, Mr. Grantley.”

  “I believe we are, and I shall be delighted to join you tomorrow evening, if you’re sure I won’t be intruding.”

  “Far from it,” Leah assured him.

  “But now, if you will excuse me. I have to be in court early tomorrow.” And the Cuthbert trial starts on Wednesday, leaving me just one day to prepare for it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “It’s like I already told you, sir, I didn’t mean no offence.”

  “Then what exactly was your purpose in...er, intimately touching Mary’s person?”

  “There weren’t no intimacy in it, goodness me no.” Darius’s client shook his head emphatically. “I was in the Leg o’Mutton at the end of a long day, taking a tankard of ale, just so I could clear the dust from me throat like. Mary wot serves there heard I sold beautifying potions to the aristocratic ladies for a living and was curious about ’em.”

  Fortunately Darius functioned well on little sleep. “So you’ve already told the court, Mr. Willard.” At tedious length. “What you’ve failed to make his lordship understand is why you felt the need to assault the landlord with a pot of your beautifying potion.”

  “You obviously ain’t never seen the man,” some wit shouted. “He could do with beautifying and no mistake.”

  The judge banged his gravel, curbing the guffaws of laughter that erupted from all quarters of the courtroom.

  “Continue, Mr. Grantley, and don’t take all day about it,” the judge intoned, scowling at Darius. “There’s no wager on the outcome of this case.”

  Darius suppressed a groan. This particular judge disliked him, as did most of his brethren, mainly because he made no secret of the fact that he found the judicial system heavily biased in favour of the crown and sought to change it from within. The judge had made snide comments all morning about the now infamous game of piquet.

  “The landlord took it all wrong,” Willard continued. “Mary asked me to show her a sample and she...er, she leaned in close and accidentally brushed her body against mine. Old Scriggins thought I’d done it deliberate and was taking liberties.”

  “Would be difficult to take liberties with Mary,” shouted the same heckler. “She’s anyone’s for a tanner.”

  “Silence! I won’t tell you again.”

  “Mr. Scriggins struck the first blow. Am I right?” Darius asked.

  “Oh aye, he did an’ all. Almost broke me jaw, he did.” Willard pointed to the multi-coloured bruise on the jaw in question to emphasise his point. “I won’t never touch another drop of ale as long as I live, so help me God, if this is what comes of it.”

  “And so you threw a jar of beauty potion at him, cutting his face.”

  “He would have cut mine, otherwise. It was self-defence, pure and simple.”

  “I shall call several of the customers from the Leg o’Mutton who will confirm my client’s story, m’lord.”

  The judge groaned. “If you must.”

  “You gentlemen should ask your ladies what they think of my products,” Willard said, turning to the jury, an impud
ent light in his eye. “Ain’t never had no complaints. The grand ladies swear by my products, so they do, and I’d be glad to offer you some samples for your daughters and sweethearts.”

  “You can’t bribe the jury,” the judge thundered.

  But it appeared that he could. The jury found him not guilty and it took less than a minute for them to do so. Scriggins, the injured party, wasn’t popular, so Darius had sensed an easy victory from the word go. The accused busied himself giving out the promised free samples to the jurors. He then caught up with Darius, withdrew a heavy purse and paid his fee in full.

  “Thank you, Mr. Grantley,” he said, pumping Darius’s hand firmly.

  “My pleasure,” Darius said, reclaiming his hand. It came away damp but he resisted the urge to wipe it down his robe. “But now, if you will excuse me.”

  He strode off with Bartlett at his side and heard Willard address the jury’s foreman, with whom he now appeared to be on the friendliest of terms.

  “Shall we adjourn to the local tavern to celebrate?” he asked, presumably forgetting that he’d sworn off liquor for good.

  “Well done, sir,” Bartlett said as he and Darius left the Bailey together. “A masterful performance and what’s more, you actually got paid this time.”

  “It does make a pleasant change,” Darius agreed, unable to help smiling at Willard’s easy manipulation of the system. Perhaps Darius ought to try a change of tactics himself.

  “Everyone’s talking about how you brought Pallister down a peg or two, and not before time, either, if you ask me.”

  “Pure luck, that’s all.” They reached Darius’s chambers and let themselves in. “We need to prepare for Wednesday and ensure we haven’t overlooked any details that can harm us.” He sighed. “I fear it will take more than a few pots of beautifying cream to bring that jury round.”

  “You underestimate your skills, Mr. Grantley. With the evidence we now have, it’ll be more than enough to cast doubt in the jury’s mind.”

  Perhaps, but what will Pallister do now?

  Pallister’s face, puce with rage as he told Darius not to expect things to go his way, had even driven thoughts of Flick from his head. Darius couldn’t win the case without casting suspicion on Pallister’s son. It would invite retribution, so he’d been on edge ever since Pallister’s warning. If he had any notion what his foe intended to do to regain the upper hand, he might be able to pre-empt him. As it was, he felt that he was always one step behind—a situation which didn’t sit comfortably with him, especially when there was so much at stake.

  Darius dined early and alone, spending the entire evening rereading his papers for the case that would make or break his career. The following morning was taken up with paying one last visit to his clients in Newgate. He and Bartlett, as satisfied as they could be that everything was in order, returned to Darius’s chambers and were confronted with an uncharacteristically anxious Phillips. Even before his clerk told him what was wrong, fear seeped through Darius, along with a premonition that Pallister had already acted.

  “What is it, Phillips?” He scrubbed a hand down his face, suddenly bone weary, tired of all the manoeuvring required to stay one step ahead in a game without civilized rules.

  “One of the grooms from your estate is here, sir.” Darius’s heart missed a beat. “There’s been a fire. Your barn burned down.”

  Darius’s body jerked rigidly upright. “Anyone hurt?”

  A groom he recognised, but whose name he didn’t recall, entered the room from the outer courtyard.

  “No, sir,” he said, answering the question that Darius had addressed to Phillips. “We got all the horses out, too, before the fire really took hold. But the barn’s lost, I’m afraid. Mr. Greenway sent me to get you ‘cos Mrs. Grantley’s right upset and he thought you should know.”

  His mother would be upset, but that was entirely Pallister’s intention. Darius, aware that Pallister had to be responsible for the fire, fumed with impotent rage. It was too much of a coincidence for it to have started at this particular time through any other means other than deliberate arson. Pallister himself wouldn’t have set it, of course, but with his power and wealth he could easily have arranged for someone else to carry out the deed. It was no secret that Darius’s mother had been fragile since the death of his father and the slightest little thing out of the ordinary affected her nerves. Darius needed to be with her since no one else would be able to reassure her.

  He was furious with Pallister for stooping so low—furious but not surprised. The man was arrogant and unprincipled, appearing to think he was above the law and could do whatever he wished without regard for the consequences. Darius ground his teeth. Pallister was about to learn a valuable lesson. Not everyone in this world could be bought, intimidated or threatened. The gauntlet had been thrown down and Darius wasn’t about to ignore it. By threatening his mother, Pallister had pushed Darius beyond his limit.

  Way too far beyond it.

  Pallister wasn’t the only one who could play outside the rules, and if he wanted to engage in a battle of wills then Darius was perfectly prepared to go on the offensive.

  First things first, he told himself, endeavouring to remain calm. He would have to see the judge and beg him to set a new date for the Cuthbert trial. Biased as he was, even he must realise that this was an emergency and that Darius couldn’t be in two places at once. He would go across to the court now and try to see him. He scribbled a note to Hal, begging off the dinner that evening and explaining why. Hal would have to enlighten Flick since Darius had no time to tell her in person.

  “Have this delivered to Grosvenor Street,” he said to Phillips.

  “At once, sir.”

  The judge’s clerk informed Darius that his lordship was taking luncheon with the lord mayor and couldn’t be disturbed. Darius tried to explain that it was a matter of the utmost urgency but the clerk barely listened. Darius fumed as the waiting stretched on and on. He needed to be on the road within the hour. With four changes of horses, the journey would take ten hours and it would be dark before he even set out at this rate.

  When the judge finally deigned to put in an appearance, he barely listened to Darius’s request before turning it down flat.

  “You’re either a barrister or a landowner, Grantley,” he said. “If you want to have it both ways, you ought to organise your affairs better.”

  “This is an unexpected tragedy, my lord. It couldn’t have been anticipated.”

  “If you need to go rushing off, then you’d best get your junior to open the trial.”

  He didn’t have a junior and they both knew it.

  Darius left the judge’s chambers feeling ready to commit murder. He couldn’t recall a previous occasion when he’d been so hamstrung at every turn. At last he understood how some of the poor creatures who stood trial at the Bailey were driven by desperation to commit their crimes. If Pallister was here now, Darius would very likely strangle him with his bare hands.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do now?” he asked himself as he returned to Gray’s Inn.

  The answer awaited him in the form of Hal and Rob.

  “We came as soon as Hal got your note,” Rob said.

  “What can we do to help?” Hal asked.

  Darius explained about the judge. “This is Pallister’s doing, of course, and he has the judge under his control, just like he has most people.” He slapped the tabletop with the flat of his hand. “Perdition, what am I to do?”

  “Is there someone above the judge?” Rob asked.

  “The lord mayor, but I doubt whether I’ll get any change out of him.” Darius rubbed his chin. “I suppose I could apply to Lord Jackson. After all, he persuaded me to take the Cuthbert brief.”

  “He won’t go up against Pallister so openly,” Hal said, shaking his head. “You know how cagily they like to dance round one another. They’re superficially polite in public but don’t hesitate to stick the knife in behind one another’s backs.” />
  “Yes, you’re right.” Darius thumped the wall with his clenched fist. “What the devil am I to do?”

  “Shall I act as your junior?” Hal asked calmly.

  Darius’s head shot up. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “Well, Cuthbert can have anyone he wishes to defend him, can’t he? I don’t require any particular qualifications.”

  Darius nodded slowly. “Go on.”

  “Why don’t we return to see the judge now?” Hal grinned. “You can tell him that I’ve offered to step into the breach. You might also want to mention that I’ll explain to the court why I felt the need to take on such a high profile case without having any previous experience.”

  “Brilliant!” Darius leapt to his feet. “It will make the judge look terribly unfeeling, and most unpopular. A marquess trying a case in front of him—”

  “Very publicly,” Hal added.

  “Quite, and doing so because he, the judge that is, wouldn’t allow the accused’s barrister the time he needs to help his ailing mother in a time of crisis,” Rob pointed out.

  “He’ll never let that happen and will have to postpone the trial.” Darius grabbed his hat. “Let’s go.”

  Half an hour later the judge had bad-temperedly given Darius four days to set his affairs in order. The trial would now start on Monday morning, with or without Darius.

  “It will hardly give me time to get there and back,” he said to Hal. “I was hoping for a week at least. Still, it will have to suffice.”

  “Bring your mother back to town with you,” Rob suggested. “I’m sure Leah would welcome her at Grosvenor Street.”

  Darius felt overwhelming gratitude. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. We have plenty of space.”