The Reckless Barrister
April Kihlstrom
Prologue
Sir Thomas Levenger regarded his protégé, Philip Langford, England’s newest barrister, with some satisfaction. Of the four brothers to whom he stood godfather, Philip was undoubtedly his favorite, and not just because the boy had followed in his footsteps.
Nor was it because he was the most handsome of the lot. James, Harry and Philip were all accounted to be remarkably good-looking young men. They were tall, with burnished blond or brown hair, and deep gray eyes. Some even said that their older brother, George, Lord Darton, had to be a changeling. He was everything they were not: sober, staid, responsible, and lacking in anything akin to charm.
At the moment, however, the subject was neither Philip’s new honors nor Harry’s plans to leave for the war in Spain in the morning, nor even James’s latest project. Instead they were discussing George and his wife, Athenia.
“She’s whelped another boy, I hear,” Harry said lightly.
“Oh, God! He’ll be just as impossible as the others,” James said with a shudder.
“Now, now, let’s be fair, he may well be much better,” Philip temporized. “George and Athenia may have learned from their mistakes.”
James snorted. “They might if they could but be brought to admit to any! You know as well as I that they consider their offspring to be perfect angels.”
Harry merely smiled wryly and said, “I know you are kindhearted, too much so for a barrister in my opinion, Philip, but that does not mean you must concede every point to George. Yes, yes, I know, you mean to rip up at me again but I beg you will not. George and Athenia and their offspring could be everything that is considered proper and admirable and we would still not be able to stand them.”
Philip colored and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Perhaps it is marriage. A great many people, I believe, become more staid once they settle into marriage.”
“A good reason for us to never fall into that trap,” Harry countered.
“Look at Sir Thomas. He’s happy. Aren’t you, sir?”
“I am,” Sir Thomas agreed gravely. “But that does not mean all men are suited to the single state.”
“We are,” Harry said firmly.
“I know!” James chimed in. He raised his glass and the others fell silent. “I propose a vow,” he said. “Why don’t we, all three, promise each other never to marry and, moreover, to stop the others from doing so if we should ever see such a danger in store.”
“Here, here!” Harry said, raising his own glass in agreement.
Philip hesitated, then shrugged. He lifted his own glass of brandy. Truth to tell, the hour was late and he was as reluctant as his brothers to step into the parson’s mousetrap. And it was very much on his mind since he had just come from the Darton estate where he had been obliged to listen to George lecture him endlessly on his duties and responsibilities and how it was time he gave up this nonsense of studying the law and returned to simply being a gentleman. George had not been pleased to learn he had been called to the bar. Quite the contrary.
And so, at the moment, Philip was in a mood to rebel against every word he had heard there. So now he raised his own glass and, in a voice that was none too steady, said, “Very well. A vow. None of us to marry.”
The three brothers clinked glasses and smiled smugly at one another. Sir Thomas merely watched them, a gleam of irony in his own dark eyes and a thoughtful expression on his placid face. That alone ought to have warned Philip.
But Harry was already speaking again. “By the time I return to England, Philip,” he said, a teasing note in his voice, “I shall expect you to be King’s counsel.”
“And shall I expect you to return a general?” Philip shot back.
“We shall at the very least expect you to make your fortune handling the affairs of wealthy clients,” James chimed in.
Philip snorted. “I have no cases. Not yet,” he countered. “And not likely to have many until I am known. It takes time for that to happen.”
Sir Thomas moved his chair and bestirred himself to say, “Oh, I might be able to throw a client or two your way.”
“Thank you, you are very kind,” Philip replied, after a moment’s hesitation.
“But you would rather find your own?” Sir Thomas asked shrewdly. When Philip nodded, it was Levenger’s turn to snort. “Come boy, we all begin by having clients sent our way by those who are looking out for us. Don’t be ungrateful!”
It was one of the things Sir Thomas liked best about young Philip that he immediately flushed and stammered an apology. Sir Thomas waved a hand carelessly.
“No, no, I know you didn’t mean to be rude, m’boy. But you ought to know there were those who helped me and now it is my turn to help you.”
It was Harry who said, quietly, “You have helped all of us, a great deal, these past eight years, sir, since our parents were killed. We are all in your debt.”
“Nonsense!” Sir Thomas said impatiently. “I was a friend of your father. I have done no more than he would have expected of me!”
Now it was James who smiled sweetly and said, “On the contrary, sir, you have done much more and we know it.”
Philip merely looked at his mentor and said, his voice taut with emotion, “You know very well, sir, how grateful I am. And while you will not hear it, you cannot stop us from feeling as we do.”
Sir Thomas growled something about impertinent whelps and reached for a deck of cards. “The devil with all of you! Come and let an old fellow teach you a few new tricks. You, Harry, may need them amongst your fellow officers and tonight is my last chance to teach you some before you leave.”
Chapter 1
Philip Langford was deep in the perusal of Hale’s History of the Common Law when there was a rap at the door of his office at Gray’s Inn. He looked up with some annoyance at the interruption.
At his command, a clerk poked his head into the room and said, “You’ve a client, sir. Out here.”
“A client?” Philip echoed, a bewildered edge to his voice. “Why don’t you show him in?”
“It’s a her and I would if I could get her past all the gawkers.”
Immediately Philip rose to his feet. A woman? Not unheard of, but most unlikely. And why should she be surrounded by gawkers?
His interest finally engaged, Philip headed for the door, reaching for his coat and pulling it on as he did so. And then he stood in the hallway staring in the direction the clerk was pointing. Just as the fellow had said, there was a woman, a young lady, standing in the central area, asking to speak with him.
He was puzzled by what he saw. She carried herself with far too much assurance to be a servant or a member of the lower or middle classes and yet her dark green dress and pelisse were patently not of the best quality and her bonnet had clearly seen better days. A gentle woman who had fallen upon hard times? Heaven preserve him from such a creature! What did she imagine he could do for her?
At the moment she was surrounded by a number of barristers and would-be barristers offering to help her. But not in the manner she meant. Their raucous comments were clearly distressing the girl and with a sigh Philip realized it was past time that he took a hand in the matter.
“I am Philip Langford and I can see you now,” he called out.
The crowd parted around the young woman. He regarded her gravely and she looked at him with some asperity and a singular lack of gratitude which took him aback. Nevertheless he moved closer to her.
“You are much younger than I expected,” she said with a frown.
Amused, Philip bowed and said, “I cannot help my age. Does it matter?”
A tiny frown creased her forehead. “No,
perhaps not,” she acknowledged. “Not if you will listen to me and take my concerns seriously. But if you are so young, then perhaps you are like these others, merely wishing to have a laugh at my expense.”
She waved a hand at the circle around her, which had now fallen silent beneath the heat of her patent contempt. There were a few muttered grumblings at her comments but most wished to hear what she would say next.
Philip almost turned on his heel and washed his hands of the girl. Every instinct told him she was going to be trouble. But he couldn’t abandon her. Not when Spencer was headed her way, a gleam in his eye Philip knew only too well and distrusted even more.
So instead of turning his back, he moved closer to the young woman and said quietly, “Why don’t we go into my office and talk. I cannot know, until you tell me the trouble, whether I can help you or not, but I assure you, I will not laugh at your expense.”
And that should have been that. But it wasn’t.
* * * *
Emily Ashbourne looked up at the man who seemed to tower over her and she felt a distinct sense of alarm. He was trying to reassure her and, to her utter astonishment, it seemed he would succeed. How very strange!
Still, she thought, she needn’t let the fellow feel he had the upper hand entirely. He caused the most unsettling sensations in the pit of her stomach when he looked at her as he was right now.
With a coolness she was far from feeling, Emily gripped her reticule tighter and said, “Very well, sir. Lead the way to your office.”
That took him aback, she thought with some satisfaction. Around them rose a new chorus of crude jests, but she didn’t care and neither, she thought oddly, did he.
It took her by surprise when suddenly he smiled, backed a step away, and bowed to her. And it was such a singularly sweet smile that it all but took her breath away.
Still, Emily was determined not to be cozened so easily. She knew only too well how charming a gentleman could be and she had no wish to encourage this one. Even if he was willing to listen to her.
Her uncle’s friend, Sir Thomas Levenger, had vouched for him, and yet there was something that made her hesitate. Why was this gentleman a barrister? Principle, like Sir Thomas Levenger? Need? A mere lark he would give up once he grew bored with the notion of doing something useful?
As though he could read her mind, or rather as though he had misread it, he bowed again and said, with what she would swear was a twinkle in his eyes, “The Honorable Philip Langford, at your service. And yes, I am the scandal of my family.”
“Oh, surely it is not quite that bad,” she said, instinctively, before she could judge the wisdom of such a forward remark. “If a man has no funds, he must do something to make his way in the world.”
But he did not seem to take offense. He merely gestured toward his office and Emily moved in that direction. She all but bit her tongue to keep from making any more injudicious remarks. At least from making them out here where there were far too many interested parties who might overhear.
Once in his office, Mr. Langford cleared a chair for Emily, indicated she should be seated, then lounged against the fireplace mantel behind his desk.
“Although I suppose it is entirely irrelevant,” he said, gazing at a point above her head, “I am not in want of funds. Were I, my family would not be nearly so upset with my choice of profession. They simply believe that I ought to spend my time in pointless pursuits and I happen to disagree.”
Emily tilted up her chin. She was suddenly conscious of the haphazard way she had tied the bow of her hat under her chin and wished she had arranged it more becomingly. Such unfamiliar thoughts made her blush but nevertheless she addressed Mr. Langford in a calm, clear voice.
“Good for you,” she said. “I find your attitude admirable.”
He looked at her and there was a wryness to the gaze that she found most disconcerting. “Do you?” he asked. “But then, you are patently an eccentric yourself so I wonder how much weight I ought to give your opinion?”
It was said without malice, indeed in an almost reflective tone. But it was enough to set off Emily’s temper, not the most gentle, even at the best of times.
She rose to her feet, clutching her reticule tighter than before. “And I have patently made an error,” she said and stumbled toward the door. “I shall see if there is anyone else who can help me.”
She expected him to make fun of her. She expected him to say something sardonic or cruel. Instead, his voice was oddly gentle as he told her, “No one else will see you, you know. Or if they will, it will be only to determine precisely what sort of woman you might be.”
Now Emily whirled around to face him. “And you?” she demanded hotly. “What was your reason for seeing me? To determine, as you say, what sort of woman I might be?”
He came toward her, that oddly sweet smile upon his face again. He shook his head. His voice was still gentle as he said, “No. For I already know what sort of woman you are.”
He reached out to touch her. She flinched away. But it turned out he only wished to straighten her bonnet. Then he stepped back, as though he understood her agitation.
Ashamed of her instinctive reaction, Emily’s own voice was softer than she, or anyone who knew her might have expected, as she asked, “And what sort of woman do you think I am, Mr. Langford?”
Again he gestured for her to sit, retreating to the fireplace mantel once more himself. Only when she had reluctantly done so, did he speak. His words were thoughtful, his eyes far too perceptive for her comfort, and the smile a touch wry.
“You are a woman of passion. Passion,” he added hastily before she could object to his choice of words, “for some cause or idea or purpose which you believe in. What that cause or idea or purpose might be, I have no notion, but you have patently devoted yourself to it wholeheartedly. Come, tell me. Is it a young man who is in trouble? Someone you love?”
Fascinated, Emily shook her head.
“A member of your family?”
Again she shook her head.
Now he frowned. “Then what?” he asked himself as much as her, as if it were a puzzle he was determined to solve. “And why come to me?”
But she would not let him. Perhaps, Emily told herself, she was afraid of what else he might perceive about her if she gave him time to try. In any event, it seemed far the safest course simply to tell him.
“You are right, Mr. Langford,” Emily said. “I do care, very deeply, about something. And I wish your help on behalf of someone else.”
“Who?”
The word was a harsh demand. Emily ignored it. “Or rather”—she went on, as if she had not heard him—”on behalf of a number of others, though it may, in some part affect me as well. Or so I hope. The question, Mr. Langford, is whether or not I can trust you.”
He stared at her for a long moment and she had the distinct impression that he was forcing himself not to allow his jaw to fall open. Had no one ever questioned his trustworthiness before? Probably not. And it would do him good to have it happen now, Emily told herself with a silent sniff. He clearly had much too high an opinion of himself. Most men of his class did.
Finally he spoke and Emily held herself very still, prepared for him to hurl a tirade of abuse at her head. Instead he leaned forward, uncrossed his arms, and took several steps so that he was close enough to put his hands on his desk as he bent toward her.
“May I know your name?” he asked, very politely.
“Miss Ashbourne.”
“Very well, Miss Ashbourne. May I remind you that you came to me. Presumably because someone recommended me. You will note that I have refrained from asking who played such a trick. But since you were given my name, presumably you were also given assurances as to my character. If they were not sufficient then what, pray tell, would be?”
He paused expectantly, but before she had time to frame an answer he went on, “Surely not simply my word. If that were enough you would already trust me. Do you wish me to call
in a clerk or another barrister to stand warranty for me?”
Again he paused and again he spoke before she had time to decide upon an answer.
“But of course there is no reason you should take the word of any of them if you will not take my own. Unless, perhaps, you have merely taken a dislike to my face? No? What then? Come, Miss Ashbourne, this will not do. Either you trust me or you do not. If not, then I suggest you leave right now for I see no way I can possibly be of service to you.”
Perversely that decided her. She began to speak in a low voice, knowing he would have to strain to hear her. But she didn’t care. It had taken great effort to get herself here and her energies were all but exhausted. If the Honorable Philip Langford proved unreliable, then so be it. She would simply have to try again with someone else.
“Sir Thomas Levenger recommended you, Mr. Langford, and I have reason to trust his judgment. Very well, you are right. That should be sufficient for me. We have wasted enough time, let us get to the business at hand. I presume you are familiar with the riots in the north?”
He inclined his head. She waited but he did not venture an opinion. And again that made her feel better. Clearly he was a man who at least could pretend to listen before he made up his mind and that put him far ahead of any other man she had met of late.
“They, some of those involved, are friends of mine.”
“Then you have a poor choice of friends, Miss Ashbourne, and I find it strange that Sir Thomas should have encouraged you in supporting them. Or perhaps he sent you to me so that I could persuade you to abandon them?”
Emily rose to her feet and put her own hands on the desk. Her nose was a scant few inches from his as she said, “Indeed, Mr. Langford? And why do you consider it a poor choice? Why do you think I should abandon them? I cannot. I object, as they do, to machines that are dangerous. What is so terrible in that?”
“I object to your friends because they oppose progress and are willing to resort to violence to prevent it,” he countered harshly.
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