The Barrister's Challenge: A Regency Romance (Heirs of Berkshire Book 2)

by Johanna Evelyn

  Table of Contents

  The Barrister's Challenge (Heirs of Berkshire, #2)

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  A Friendly Alliance

  Sneak Peek of A Kindred Connection

  Thank You

  Copyright c 2019 by Johanna Evelyn

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product to the author’s very active imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, or institutions, is completely coincidental.

  The Barrister’s Challenge/Johanna Evelyn—1nd ed.

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  Chapter One

  WATER SPLASHED, SPATTERING mud and grime into the air as Walter Longman’s carriage cut through central London.

  The rain had been relentless these past few weeks. As miserable as it was, he supposed it reflected his mood as of late. He peered out the carriage window at the London streets, trying to ignore the pain in his heart when he dwelt on what he’d lost. He’d thought he put Patience Hawthorne out of his heart when their engagement failed due to her parents’ lack of support. He realized now he’d always held onto a small hope that things would turn around once he established himself as a respectable barrister.

  Instead, he’d had to watch from afar, reading snippets of her going’s on and subsequent betrothal to another. Still, she haunted his thoughts constantly.

  The carriage came to a stop near Lincoln's Inn, the inn of court in which he belonged, forcing him to pull his musing away from the lady. Today was an important one for his career. He was on a bid to be one of the chosen barristers to take on a large case within the Circuit Courts. Should he win it, he’d establish credibility and a larger pension.

  Walter stepped out onto the street, narrowly missing a large puddle, and paid the driver. The carriage rolled away, horse’s hooves clacking as Walter’s eyes swept the street. Parasols protected the delicate heads of the women, and the men ducked forward, letting the rain droplets fall on the brim of their hats. Walter had donned his own black cloak and top hat, keeping it low over his eyes.

  As he took his first steps toward his offices, a baby blue bonnet caught his attention. He turned, watching as a woman passed near him, clutching a reticule. Her auburn curls escaped under the bonnet’s confines.

  Walter’s heart leaped into his throat. It couldn’t be—was it? He had to know.

  Ducking his head down, he followed the woman, trying to catch a glimpse of her face. That blue gown and bonnet reminded him of soft hands, whispered promises, and full pink lips.

  She stopped at the corner of the street, fidgeting in her reticule. The curve of her shoulders, her pale neck—Walter was only yards away from her now, so close to reaching out and delicately touching her elbow.

  As she turned, Walter stopped in his tracks. The face was unfamiliar to him, spotted with dark freckles, the chin too pointed, lips thin. She was not his Patience.

  As his heart deflated, Walter scowled at the wet, filthy ground. Thunder rumbled and the sprinkle of rain quickly became a deluge. People hurried around him, trying to get to their destinations without becoming soaked through. The woman quickly crossed the street, meeting up with a man who wrapped an arm around hers, pulling her under the protection of a parasol.

  Walter remained frozen, his jaw clenched, willing her memory away. He felt people brush against his shoulders, trying to get past him.

  “Mr Longman!” The voice was loud in Walter’s ears.

  He turned, lowering his eyes to a man who stood a foot shorter than he.

  The man raised his thick grey brows. “Aiming to catch a cold?” When Walter didn’t respond, he reached up to pat Walter on the back. “Let me walk with you.”

  Walter didn’t argue. Mr Welch had been a mentor to Walter, taking him on when no one else would. He had quickly become like a second father. Together, they walked toward Lincoln's Inn, the rain hissing past their ears.

  Once inside, Walter removed his hat and shook it off.

  Mr Welch chuckled, clutching the top of his cane. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were quite turned around back there, Mr Longman.”

  “Thought I spotted an old acquaintance.”

  Walter removed his cloak, trying to sound nonchalant but winced at his own words. Friend... affianced... acquaintance. Funny how relationships changed. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts again.

  Mr Welch snorted. “Get to work, you heart-sick loon.”

  Walter frowned at Mr Welch, but the well-respected barrister only chuckled. “You think I don’t notice how you mope around? Clearly, you’ve been jilted. Take my advice—stay a bachelor as long as you can.”

  Mr Welch tapped his cane against Walter’s ankles and winked before moving down the hall to his office.

  Walter clenched his jaw as he retreated to his own office, guarded by a heavy oak door with his name on a nearby plaque. He hung his coat and hat, then sat behind his desk, trying to sort his thoughts. It wasn’t working. Patience had captured almost every moment of thought since finding out she’d gone to the east end of London only a week ago. He scowled as he remembered Lord Peter Seton, Patience’s new intended, sitting directly across from him in this very room, accusing him of intentionally putting Patience in harm’s way. Frustration flared in Walter’s breast. The very thought! Lord Seton didn’t know how lucky he was to be courting her. It still hurt that Patience was with another man, and he was beside himself at knowing how to wrench his thoughts away from the woman.

  He extracted a file documenting the case he hoped to get, riffling through the papers. He’d almost memorized every detail, trying to purge his thoughts of Patience. A man by the name of Hugh Vanderbilt had been accused of murder. Should Walter get the case, he would be proving Mr Vanderbilt’s guilt. The man Vanderbilt had been accused of murdering had been the heir to the Viscount of Highfield. Walter had met the future Viscount once, and in his mind, the world was better off without the man in it. It would be tricky, but if Walter succeeded, he would be set in his career. He’d become more desirable to women who sought out a comfortable living.

  He didn’t blame Patience for her parents’ refusal of his proposal. But it still irked him that she leaped into this year’s season, and only weeks later found herself the most eligible bachelor in London.

  She claimed she didn’t care for money when Walter courted her. It looked like things had changed. Her being with Lord Seton only added insult to injury, making it quite clear that she had set her sights much higher than he could ever reach.

  Hang it, Walter thought, swiping a hand through his hair. Enough. He would not let Patience get in the way of his career. He banished her from his thoughts once and for all, spending the next hour pouring over the notes of the case.

  Walter pulled his watch out of his pocket and glanced at the time
, letting it dangle without putting it back. He leaped from his chair, gathering the file and his fountain pens before rushing out of his office. He was about to be late.

  He worked his way down the hall until he found the meeting room where a handful of barristers vying for the case were gathered, shuffling through the same notes that Walter had just been immersed in.

  Mr Welch patted an empty seat next to him, and Walter sat, eyeing his competition. Only three of them would be chosen and he was the most inexperienced of them all. He swallowed, trying to keep his confidence high. Mr Bamber sat across from him at the long, polished table, looking relaxed and grinning at his competitors the way a fox grins at plump chickens. He caught Walter’s gaze, and his grin spread even wider.

  Walter held the man’s gaze, refusing to back down. Mr Bamber’s eyebrows arched, not expecting the challenge.

  The lead barrister, Mr Conrad, entered the room, black robes ruffling behind him, his wig almost falling off.

  “Gentlemen,” he paused, taking a seat at the head of the table. “We have many interested parties and not much time.” He slammed a stack of papers onto the table. “Mr Vanderbilt’s case. Who would like to be on it?”

  Walter stood, along with four other men his senior, including Mr Bamber.

  Mr Conrad’s weathered grey eyes swept over the candidates. “Briefly describe why you would excel at the case. Mr Bamber, if you could start us off.”

  Mr Bamber’s dark eyes glittered. “I have been a member of this council for fifteen years. I’ve tackled the most difficult of cases and always come out on top. Clearly, I am the most qualified among us to take on the case.”

  Walter couldn’t believe the man’s overconfidence. He looked to Mr Conrad to see if he was at all impressed. His gaze was fixed steadily on Mr Bamber.

  “Bamber, I recall a number of cases you’ve lost. Do not claim to have won them all.”

  Mr Bamber’s smile grew forced, his pride obviously wounded.

  Mr Conrad turned to another individual—a middle-aged man Walter knew as Mr Mosby, a well-respected barrister. He looked from Walter to Mr Bamber, then chuckled, sitting.

  “I think I will sit this one out, actually.” He smiled.

  All eyes turned to Walter and Mr Welch. Walter swallowed, forcing himself to remain calm. Patience must have rattled him more than he thought. Mr Welch gave him an encouraging nod.

  “I am the youngest among you.” Walter looked to Mr Conrad but kept his head held high. “But I have gained respect quickly on this council. I’ve taken on smaller cases, but each one has been a success. I get to the heart of the matter, and I fight for truth. It’s time to focus my talents on something bigger if you’ll allow me.” He dipped his head humbly in Mr Conrad’s direction.

  Mr Welch spoke up, holding a finger in the air. “I second the motion. Mr Longman has been most attentive this past year. I have confidence in his abilities to tackle the case.”

  Mr Conrad nodded, his finger tapping his grey beard before he stopped and adjusted his wig, so it fit more snugly on his head. “Very well then. I will assign you, Mr Welch, to work alongside Mr Longman on this case.” His gaze turned to a sour Mr Bamber. “If Mr Longman is unable to handle it, I will reassign you to be the lead, Bamber. Are we all clear?”

  The men in the room uttered a sound of agreement, and they adjourned.

  As Walter strode triumphantly out of the office, Mr Bamber caught up to him.

  “Well done, my friend, though I hope you understand what kind of case you’ve gotten yourself into. It’s not for the faint of heart.”

  Walter forced himself to smile. “I suppose time will tell.” He quickly walked away from Mr Bamber, heading back to his office, ready to dive into the case once more.

  He picked up the paper he had purchased that morning, flipping it open to peruse the political atmosphere, but his eyes caught the name of Lord Seton. He stilled, reading it carefully. Patience’s name stood out like a beacon that his heart seemed irrevocably drawn to.

  Lord Seton and Patience’s courtship had suddenly ended? Patience taken from London early, hastily, her name muddied? His heart pounded in his chest as he continued to read. Scandal had followed her back to the country.

  Walter knew instantly that her misguided adventure in traveling to the slums of the east end of London had something to do with it. Lord Seton had burst into his office, accusing him, of all people, of sending her there. The man had seemed to care about her safety. Did it end there? Was Lord Seton so upset at Patience’s careless behavior that it would push his affections away from her? If it had, the man was a fool.

  His head started to hurt. Today had been lopsided in his attentions, and the woman didn’t deserve to take up so much space in his heart. He winced, shoving the thought of her away. He couldn’t bother himself with Patience any longer. He had to use all his mental capacities to prove a man’s guilt. And he was more determined now than ever to do so. The things he’d studied up on didn’t make sense. Something was terribly wrong.

  Chapter Two

  PATIENCE LOOKED TO her mother, imploring her to see reason. She didn’t know why she tried. Her mother had always been unyielding in anything having to do with Walter Longman. “But why not?”

  Her mother sniffed. “Because that girl has caused enough trouble in this family. I absolutely forbid you in attending her wedding.”

  Patience had just received a letter from her dear friend Juliana, informing her of her upcoming wedding, and she desperately wanted to attend. She’d been in the country for a month now and was ready to die of boredom.

  Her mother was still upset with Juliana and her newly intended for tricking her parents into believing Lord Seton was pursuing Patience. It had been a ruse they had all agreed upon to get society to give Lord Seton some breathing room while he was grieving his father’s loss, as well as a way for her mother to stop nagging her about accepting a suitable offer of marriage. It had worked out well for Juliana and Lord Seton. They were blissfully happy and nearly married. She, on the other hand, had been forced back to the country in disgrace after her mother had listened at the door, thus uncovering their scheme. Patience would not have minded but for the fact that Walter was still in London, believing she had been unfaithful.

  Patience bit her tongue to keep from lashing out at her mother. “Juliana is the kindest friend I know. She was only trying to help.”

  “Ha!” her mother reverted her attentions back to the needlepoint she was working on.

  Patience turned to her father. His eyes were fixed within the pages of a book. “Papa, won’t you let me go?”

  Her father sank deeper in his chair, raising his book so his face was nearly obscured. “Listen to your mama, Patience,” was all he said on the matter.

  She should have known. Her father never stood up for her. He was afraid of his own wife. Without a word, Patience folded Juliana’s letter and stood from her armchair. Walking through the door, she slammed it in her anger before briskly moving up the stairs to her room.

  Once she was safely inside her bedroom, she grabbed a stuffed pillow and tossed it across the room with a low rumble. It hit the wall and fell to the floor with an unsatisfactory climax. Patience collapsed on her bed, staring up at the pale silk canopy.

  She hated it here, hated her mother’s control over her.

  Patience loathed writing Juliana to inform her she would not be attending her wedding and wondered if she could find a way to leave, even without her parents’ permission. There was no use reasoning with her mother, who couldn’t even be persuaded to let her marry the man she loved.

  Walter constantly invaded her thoughts. It hurt to know he was in London, chasing a respectable profession while she was stuck here in Wallingford, not even permitted to attend her dearest friend’s wedding.

  Patience wondered if Walter had even received the letter she had written explaining the truth about her and Lord Seton. She hadn’t had a response from him—or if she had, her mother had taken
it without telling her. The thought made her heart sink.

  Did he still think of her? Long for her the way she did for him? She hugged a pillow, feeling her throat constrict as hot tears stung behind her eyes. Unable to sit still a moment longer, she moved to her secretary. Drawing a fresh piece of paper, she picked up her fountain pen.

  Hesitation hung as she bit at her bottom lip. She carefully penned, “My dear Walter...”

  She scribbled another two sentences, then crossed them out, frustrated at the whole situation. What more could she say that hadn’t already been said in her final letter to him just before leaving London? She’d explained her side of the story—that she did not love Lord Seton and never had. That he loved Juliana. Perhaps she could write Walter and tell him of the impending wedding.

  Her pen hovered over the unwritten letter, a dollop of ink hanging from the tip. If he hadn’t responded to her first letter, would he care at all about Lord Seton and Juliana? Would he care about her?

  She blotted the ink before she wrote, “I am trapped in a cage of suppressed emotion and unrequited love.”

  It was dramatic and wasn’t like her at all.

  She stared bitterly at her words before crumpling the paper and giving up on the task of writing Walter yet another letter that she doubted he would respond to.

  A knock sounded on the door, startling her. “Patience, you will come to dinner at once.”

  As she heard her mother moving away from the closed door, Patience creased her brows, knowing exactly why a servant hadn’t been sent to fetch her. Her mother wanted to wield her control. Let Patience know she would not be ignored. As melodramatic as it seemed, Patience wanted to stay locked up in her room, pining after a man she could not have while silently rebelling against her mother’s iron fist. Patience didn’t care if she starved.

  But she was a coward like her father, not daring to cross her mother. She made her way reluctantly down the stairs and into the dining room. Her parents were already seated, the servants setting food in front of them, not even waiting for her. Patience took her seat at the left of her father and across from her mother.