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

by Johanna Evelyn

  Walter turned back to Patience and gave a quick bow.

  She curtsied back and said under her breath, “Meet me at the factory when you are done. You know the one.”

  Walter hesitated, then nodded.

  Patience stood alone beside the brick building, watching as the pair rounded the corner and out of sight. She allowed herself to feel hope that she would finally earn Walter’s forgiveness as she moved away, letting him settle his affairs without her watchful eyes.

  Chapter Six

  THE SMALL EMERALD EARRINGS sparkled as Mr Scott held them up for Walter to examine. Even to Walter’s undiscerning eye, he could tell they were fake.

  Mr Scott’s eye’s glimmered as he watched for Walter’s reaction. He wasn’t sure if this man was being deceitful or if he truly did not have a clue as to their authenticity. The fact that his brother had ordered them at all irritated Walter. Mr Scott had to know Daniel’s spending was out of control.

  “Exquisite, aren’t they? I am sure no one will know they are fake.”

  Walter took them, weighing the lightness in his palm. He paused, wondering how to best handle the situation. Who knew how much debt Daniel had amassed with this man. Walter needed to keep Mr Scott happy, at least for now.

  He looked up at Mr Scott. “How much?” No matter the cost, Walter knew he couldn’t in good conscience spend any more money.

  Mr Scott grinned. “Because of the unfortunate death in your family, I’ll offer half price. Five shillings.”

  Walter nearly dropped the earrings in his haste to extract himself from the small confines of the shop, but knew he needed to leave gently. His family’s financial situation gripped his chest like a vise, and he wasn’t sure if all his accounts with this man had been settled.

  “I’m sorry.” He handed them back to the merchant. “Not at this time.”

  He would not give the dreadful things to his mother even if he had a mind to, and he could not believe Daniel would have either.

  Mr Scott’s face fell. “Well, perhaps these can tempt you...” He ducked behind his counter and pulled out a pair of pearl earrings. They were simple but elegant. Mr Scott placed them in Walter’s hand. Walter tried to mask his irritation as he reluctantly took the earrings.

  “A gift,” he said with a smile. “Give your family my condolences.”

  Walter curled his fingers over the earrings. “I can’t take these.” He extracted a shilling from his pocket and handed it to Mr Scott.

  The jeweler hesitated only for a brief moment. “You are too kind,” he said.

  Walter placed the earrings on the counter, but the man shoved the earrings back at him. He didn’t have the strength to protest any further. He forced them in his pocket before walking out of the shop, more wound up than when he’d left his home that morning. This day was not going as he’d expected. He was tempted to leave Patience where she was and go about his business without her interference but couldn’t bring himself to leave her alone when she expected him. He shook his head, not believing that he still hadn’t learned how to put Patience behind him.

  He walked to the edge of his property where the old abandoned candle wax factory sat alone and untouched by time. It still smelled of tallow and had a thin, waxy film over the bare floors. Memories assailed him as he stepped into the small room. It was where he and Patience had started meeting in secret when their relationship became serious before he asked for her hand in marriage.

  He didn’t need these new memories, but he pressed forward, determined to get this meeting over with.

  As he walked further into the dark factory, lit only by the light spilling from its windows, Patience stepped out of the shadows, looking as a beautiful ghost in her crème colored dress. Walter stood stalk still as he caught sight of her, afraid he would cave into an irrational mess if he drew near her.

  Patience fiddled with the fabric of her skirt. “It was all for you, you know,” she said.

  Walter remained stoic, not saying a word.

  She continued. “Mama was pushing me at every man in the room who had a decent sum attached to his name. I didn’t want to court any of them. I was still in love with you.”

  Walter’s heart beat loudly in his ears. Still, he said nothing.

  “When I saw Juliana Gibbon interact with Lord Seton, I knew instantly that they were in love with each other even if they hadn’t realized it at the time. As you probably know, he had just acquired a large fortune after his father passed. Girls clamored over him.” She stood a step closer to him, the red highlights in her hair masked in the dark shadows. “Juliana knew I didn’t want to court anyone. She knew there was only one man who held affection in my heart. So she devised a plan.” Patience shrugged her shoulders as if what she had done had been a mere game to pass the time.

  “She told you to court Lord Seton,” Walter said, guessing at the story.

  She nodded as her head bent in shame. The vise that had been constricting his heart since he found her in the arms of Lord Seton loosened. He stepped to her, almost pulling her to him. He checked himself just in time. He still needed to guard his feelings. There were too many things to take into consideration.

  “Society takes courtship seriously, Patience. How do you think it looked to me?”

  “By pretending to court each other, Lord Seton was saved from overzealous women, and I had a respite from my parents. It was all for you, Walter. You have to know that.”

  Walter tightened his hands into fists, his mind warring with his heart. “Why did the newspapers make it out to be such a scandal?”

  Patience huffed out a breath of irritation. “Once Lord Seton told my parents he had no intention of making me an offer, they pulled me out of the season early and brought me back home. Of course, it looked suspicious to the papers. But I swear to you—nothing occurred between Lord Seton and I that you should trouble yourself with. Lord Seton and Juliana are to be wed in a week’s time. They have their happy ending. I’m hoping for mine.”

  Walter ran a hand through his hair, trying to put all the pieces together. They stood in silence for a moment before he took the remaining steps towards her. “Do you still love me, then?”

  “You know I do.” Patience locked her eyes with his.

  His insides danced at their proximity. Noticing a stray lock of hair, he yearned to tuck it behind her ear, to touch her face, kiss her forehead...

  She breathed, “I’ve vowed to never marry another.” And he almost lost his tight control.

  Her words pierced through his rough exterior, softening his heart. He reached for her, tucking her hand lightly into his. He yearned to fold her into his arms, hold her tight against his chest and promise to never let her go.

  “Have you your mother’s blessing?” he asked quietly.

  Her eyes grew distant. “Mama does not understand me. Papa does a little, I think, but he’s too afraid of her to stand up for me.” She lowered her gaze. “I do not have their blessing.”

  Walter dropped her hand. “Then what are we doing here, Patience?” he asked, his voice strained. “Why prolong the pain when this cannot be?”

  “Because I will not give up.” She lifted her chin, showing him signs of her earlier self. “There has to be a reason besides money that she won’t approve of the match. I know there is.” A small smile lit her face. “It’s a mystery only we can solve.”

  Walter fought back a smile. “Come now. We are no longer children.”

  “Don’t you remember how much fun we had?” Her smile was warm, genuine. “Romping around town solving the dullest mysteries to be found in Wallingford?”

  He did. They had gotten into some mischief with their sleuthing games. It was the primary reason he pursued a career as a barrister.

  “Mama’s aversion to you is no different,” Patience continued. “But we will crack the case. What do you say?”

  Walter looked into her hopeful, optimistic face. He almost agreed to it but remembered all the other things that took priority. The V
anderbilt case. His brother’s mysterious accident. What to do about all the debt.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I must investigate my brother’s accident first and foremost. And then... I must return to London.”

  Patience’s face fell. “When?”

  “As soon as possible. Within a week, I hope.”

  Patience’s forehead creased in disappointment. “You mean, you won’t stay?”

  “I can’t.” Walter took a step back, distancing himself from her. This wasn’t going to end well. No matter how they felt for each other... he had responsibilities to care for his family. “I have to take on a case in London. It is career-defining. And...” He hesitated, then plowed on. “And my brother left my family in heavy debt. I have no choice but to return to London and make my way as a barrister. Hopefully, it’ll pay off some of the debts in a few years, on top of the small pension for the estate.”

  Patience became bereft, her eyes searching his. He had to look away for fear she’d see how hard this was for him. Giving in to his heart would only create more problems.

  “Take me with you.” Her quiet pleading forced his eyes back to hers.

  He shook his head. “I can’t. Not without your parents blessing.”

  “Do you still love me?”

  His eyes found Patience’s. They were wide, uncertain. Something inside him broke, and he loathed himself for causing her pain. “I do,” he whispered. “I never stopped.”

  Color returned to her cheeks as she reached for him. He drew back, fighting everything within him that wanted to touch and hold her.

  She dropped her hands, bunching them at her sides.

  “I will help you find out about your brother’s accident,” she said firmly. “And then, before you return to London, we will approach my parents.”

  Walter shook his head. “Patience, leave my brother’s accident to me. I will get to the bottom of it soon enough. As for your parents...” He paused, shaking his head. “Believe me, I want to ask them again for your hand. But I know they’ll give the same answer they did last time, and I cannot bear to go through the humiliation again.” He took a deep breath. “Now is not the right time.”

  Patience’s gaze fell to the wax-smeared ground. “I understand,” she said quietly.

  Walter hesitated, then carefully extended his hand, lifting her chin until she was looking at him again. “I haven’t given up on us,” he said quietly. “But it’ll have to wait. At least until I’ve won the case in London. By then, I’ll be making more money. I’ll be more desirable to your family.” He moved his hand up, lightly slipping his fingers along her jaw. He stroked her smooth cheek with his thumb. “Don’t give up on me. I will come for you.”

  Patience nodded, though still looked disappointed. Walter hated disappointing her.

  He released her and stepped away. “Stay out of trouble until I bring you word.”

  Her searching eyes filled with hope made it difficult to leave her. He turned on his heel, leaving things partially mended between them.

  He hoped it was enough, though something inside him knew their relationship wouldn’t be mended so simply.

  Chapter Seven

  THE DAY WAS HALF-GONE already, but it had been worth it to see Patience again. His step felt lighter as he weaved his way through the streets, heading straight for the blacksmith. Though his brother had been in the ground for a full day now, speaking with Patience had lifted his spirits. He was still carrying a heavy weight, but knowing the woman he loved knew his struggles lifted them slightly. There was no way he would be able to tell his mother about the debts. He had no idea how she would take it. And though he knew Patience could not be of real use to him, the thought of her constancy buoyed him in this trial.

  With the funeral still fresh in his mind, he was ready to get to the bottom of the mysterious accident.

  As he entered the blacksmith’s shop, Mr Tate greeted him with his toothless grin. “Ah, there you are! Was wondering when you’d be coming around.”

  Walter nodded. “The carriage?”

  Mr Tate turned to move into the back of the shop. “Right this way, sir.”

  The blacksmith led him to the back, and Walter spotted right away the mangled metal that had once been a carriage. His stomach lurched at the gruesome sight, one that sent his imagination wild with how his brother could have died. Suffocation, broken bones, cracked skull, punctured lungs... the list of possibilities ran on in his mind.

  He approached the destroyed carriage and kneeled, examining the bent and twisted metal. “How could this have happened?” he asked quietly.

  Mr Tate shuffled his feet beside Walter. “There most certainly could have been a weakness in the metal the manufacturer looked over. Perhaps it just snapped.”

  Walter scowled at the mess in front of him. “But where? What could have broken that would have thrown the carriage so completely off the road?”

  Mr Tate hunched next to Walter. “Let’s see... well, the horses escaped, yes? That should give us some clues.”

  Walter nodded. “Perhaps they spooked and broke free—something they’d only be able to do if the carriage shaft snapped off.” He lifted his eyes to the carriage’s front. The metal that would loop through the horse’s tethers had indeed broken off.

  Mr Tate ran his fingers along the thin metal, shaking his head. “No, no... they broke away after the carriage lost control. See here—” The blacksmith tapped where the metal had broken. “It’s twisted, bent. Whatever happened, it was enough force that the metal twisted right off, freeing the horses.”

  Walter knit his brow. “But they are so securely tied. What could have possibly caused the carriage to swerve one way and the horses the other?”

  Mr Tate lowered his eyes, studying the mess, then scratched the back of his neck. “The way this metal part broke... I’d almost say the carriage collapsed downward...” He imitated with his hands, leveling them beside each other, then violently dropping one hand. “And caused the metal bars to snap up, giving them an enormous amount of stress. Any carriage of this make would have the front snapped off if this was the case.”

  Walter tried to wrap his mind around what Mr Tate was saying. “Then... if a wheel dislodged, say, would that have dropped the carriage enough to break off the front?”

  Mr Tate ducked his head to examine the underside of the carriage. “If one wheel fell off, that certainly could have done it. But the wheel didn’t simply fall off—the metal it was attached to is gone, too.” He pointed. “Ah-ha. The axle snapped in half.”

  A chill ran through Walter. “Snapped in half? What would that have done to the carriage?”

  “The front wheels’ axle is what snapped, so it would have dropped dramatically forward.” Mr Tate once again imitated with his hand, slanting one at an angle. “It would have certainly broken the carriage shaft, freeing the horses. But now the wheels are not able to function properly, and depending on how fast your brother was going, it most certainly would have pitched him forward or to the side.”

  Walter stood, straightening. “And then what?”

  Mr Tate shrugged. “It seems to have rolled onto its side. Mr Longman was found in a ravine with the carriage. It must have pitched to the side, losing one of the wheels, and tumbled down the hill with him on it. The force of the fall would have certainly crushed him.”

  Walter felt sick to his stomach. “The manufacturer is at fault then?” he asked, his anger heightening.

  Mr Tate took a moment to examine the fractured axle. “No,” he said slowly. “No... I... That’s strange.”

  Walter peered at the axle, trying to discern it all. “What is it?”

  Mr Tate squinted. “The axle didn’t snap from poorly made metal,” he said. “I’ve seen fractured metal before. No... this was deliberately cut. Right here.” He pointed. “But not all the way, of course. This tiny bit here—” he pointed to the bottom bit of the metal rod. “That broke from all the pressure.” Mr Tate’s eyes moved slowly t
o Walter, his tone somber. “Mr Longman. It appears someone meant harm to your brother.”

  Mr Tate’s words pounded into Walter. He stared furiously at the severed axle, trying to piece it all together. “You’re sure? I don’t know anyone who would do such a thing.”

  “You can see the marks right here, sir,” Mr Tate said quietly as he pointed.

  Walter’s anger deepened as he spotted the jagged marks of the saw that had been dragged through the metal.

  He stood abruptly, his head spinning. “Thank you, Mr Tate,” he said hoarsely as he walked out of the shop, the world around him crumbling into a cold abyss.

  He couldn’t remember the walk home. As he moved through the front entrance, Henrietta was playing somber songs on the pianoforte. The plodding melody seemed darker than before as he thought of Daniel’s early death.

  He retreated to his study, shutting the door behind him to block out the music. He stood with his back against the door for several minutes, staring at the desk his brother had occupied only a week ago.

  Daniel was murdered. The dreadful thought entered his head, finally forming. Who would murder his brother?

  Walter flinched at the thought of anyone wishing that kind of harm to his brother. He could think of no one who would have done it.

  He finally had the strength to move behind the desk where a new stack of letters awaited him. Methodically, Walter found a letter opener and began slicing them open one by one.

  The first was from Mr Welch. As promised, he had sent new details of the Vanderbilt case. He hinted that Walter should be there no later than next Friday—giving him only a week to finish sorting through this mess of affairs.

  Giving him only a week to investigate Daniel’s murder.

  Shuddering, Walter tucked Mr Welch’s letter into his pocket so he might study the new case details later that evening.

  He opened the second letter—an invoice from the wine merchant. Walter stared at the requested amount, his mind blanking. Who spent such an exorbitant amount on wine?