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

by Karen Lynne

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

  Her hand hovered over the blank parchment, a dollop of ink hanging from the tip of her pen.

  If he hadn’t responded to her first letter, would he care at all about Lord Berkshire 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 a bit dramatic and not like her at all.

  She stared bitterly at her words before crumpling the paper and giving up and tossing the wad across the room. It was useless writing Walter another letter she doubted he would respond to.

  A knock sounded on her door.

  “Patience, come to dinner at once.”

  Her brow creased as her mother moved away, footfalls echoing down the hall. She knew 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.

  She 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, not bothering to wait as a servant set food in front of them. Patience took her seat at the left of her father, across from her mother, refusing to look at them. She sat in silence, not bothering to make conversation. It didn’t matter, her father was reading the paper, her mother buttering her bread.

  “Oh,” her father’s startled outburst, stopped both women from finishing their bites.

  All eyes turned to him. It was a rare occurrence to have her father make any sounds over dinner.

  “Well. What is it?” her mother asked testily when it became apparent that her father was not going to enlighten them on his own.

  Her father squinted, continuing his reading, not bothering to acknowledge her mother’s annoyed tone. He cleared his throat, not looking at either of them.

  “Daniel Longman has passed away,” he breathed, a troubled expression on his brow.

  Patience’s stomach lurched, upsetting the food that had settled there.

  “Walter’s brother?” she whispered.

  “How did he die?” Her mother seemed interested.

  Patience was, though most likely for different reasons. Her mother always had to be in the know so she could be the first to spread the best bits of gossip to the women of the neighborhood.

  “Carriage accident, it seems.” His concerned eyes raised from the paper.

  Patience exchanged a glance with her mother. Was that distress she saw?

  “A carriage accident? How?” Her mother’s voice broke.

  “It’s vague.” Her father shrugged. Folding the newspaper, he set it beside his plate.

  Patience snatched it up before her mother could say any more on the subject. She flipped through the pages, finding the story and reading over as she discovered the details for herself.

  “Poor Walter,” she murmured.

  Her father tore a chunk of bread with his fingers.

  “He’s set to inherit his family’s estate now that his brother has passed,” he mumbled to himself.

  Patience’s eyes widened. She swallowed as her mind raced. Walter would be heartbroken.

  Her mother’s eyes drilled into her father’s. “Unlikely he’ll claim it. He’s too busy becoming a barrister in London.”

  “He must return home to sort out the family affairs. He has his younger sister to look after.” His eyes grew distant. “As well as his mother. He wouldn’t abandon them.” He shook his head, as if coming out of a fog.

  Her father’s words replayed in her head. He’ll need to return home. Walter would return to Wallingford, if only for a little while to set his affairs in order. He now had an estate on his hands. Not as wealthy as Lord Berkshire’s ,but enough to settle down — Patience's eyes returned to her mother.

  Her eyes narrowed, watching Patience. She hissed, throwing her napkin onto the table. “No, Patience, you are not to carry on with that man under any circumstances.”

  “I would never carry on, Mama!” Heat rose to her cheeks at the implication. How could her own mother have such a low opinion of her? And why was her mother so against Walter?

  “I only thought he might be more appealing to you now that he has inherited his family’s estate.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but her mother didn’t seem to notice.

  Her father cleared his throat. “There are advantages to Patience and Mr. Longman’s union,” he said, coming to her defense for the first time in her life.

  Both Patience and her mother gaped openly.

  He lowered his eyes. “There are advantages to having such a connection. For example, we could combine our estates. I would have thought you’d welcome the rise in status.” He looked at his wife. “And it’d keep Patience close.”

  He looked away as if he knew what the response would be. But Patience just gawked, as she hadn’t seen him so sensible in years.

  Her mother’s eyes were piercing; Patience feared her father would be sliced into ribbons. “We’ve already turned him away. Patience will have more suitable suitors.”

  “But I don’t want any other suitors—” Patience argued, but her mother’s piercing glare silenced her.

  “We will end this discussion here and now,” her mother spit out after a strained silence. She turned her attention to her roast duck, acting as if nothing had happened. “I’m thinking of adding cabbage to the garden this year.” She turned to her father. “Is that not a good idea?”

  Patience looked to her father, but he’d already settled into submission. “Whatever you like, dear.”

  She would have thought it comical had they not been discussing her future. Patience dropped her napkin onto the table and stood. Her appetite had fled. She swept from the room, not bothering to ask permission to leave.

  Her thoughts were on Daniel’s sudden death. The heartache Walter must be feeling. Life was so fragile. It could be taken instantly. She felt his loss keenly as she trudged up the steps, seeking the solitude of her room.

  She rested on her bed, her heart beating against her chest. Walter returning to Wallingford unsettled her, yet a small bit of hope rose to her chest. She could talk to him face to face. Resolve things, find out why he wouldn’t return her letters. If he chose not to forgive her, he would know she still cared. She’d never stopped loving him. Her chest constricted, thinking of the pain she must have caused when feigning a courtship with Lord Berkshire.

  A terrible thought pierced her. What if he’d found another? Someone he cared for in London?

  She banished the image from her mind, unwilling to think of the possibility. No need to dwell on something before knowing the facts. Instead, she focused on seeing Walter again. No matter that her mother had forbidden it. She would find a way to comfort Walter during his time of grief. Thoughts of seeing him lifted her spirits. She would make things right. This whole incident would be but a painful memory. Walter was not so unfeeling as to deny her an audience and allow her to explain.

  Chapter 3

  Walter locked his office door before moving to Mr. Welch’s rooms. He stood outside the office staring at the closed door, his throat dry. He had no idea if he would still have a seat on the case once he announced the news. He couldn’t change the situation; he needed to return home. As the new heir, he had certain responsibilities. His mind still spun with the news he had received by post that morning. It was most unexpected, tragic, and very poor timing.

  He knocked on the door, his muscles ri
gid. He had worked too hard to get where he was, he would not let his position go without a fight. The door opened. Mr. Welch stood in his robes, his hair askew. The startled expression in his eyes made Walter smile for a moment before he remembered his purpose.

  The man blinked at Walter, yawning as he moved back, a telling sign he’d just woken from a nap.

  “Come in, Mr. Longman.”

  Walter obeyed, but stood while Mr. Welch tidied his appearance. Walter fingered his top hat, shifting from side to side. Mr. Welch took a moment, then turned, his brows creased into a frown.

  “Is something the matter?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Walter swallowed, wetting his dry throat. “My brother… I just found out this morning… has passed away.”

  Mr. Welch’s features shifted, his eyes dark and somber. “I am sorry to hear that.”

  Walter’s jaw tightened, dreading what he had to say next. “I must go to Wallingford. Settle his affairs, you understand.”

  If this man posed any resistance, he was prepared to argue. Lay the facts at his feet and plead his case as to why he was still the best man for the job.

  Mr. Welch nodded. “I understand. Of course you must. It will interfere with the Vanderbilt case,” he fingered his chin.

  “I still plan to work,” Walter said quickly. “But I’ll need a little more time. If you could send me regular letters concerning the case, I would be much obliged.”

  Walter held his breath, hoping the man would offer no resistance.

  “It is highly irregular.” Mr. Welch scratched at his beard. “I will see what I can do. But hurry back, Mr. Longman, or the council will be forced to assign someone else in your stead.”

  Walter stepped forward, locking his gaze with Mr. Welch’s.

  “I need this case,” he said quietly. “You understand that?”

  “I do.” Mr. Welch clapped Walter on the shoulder. “Do what you must in Wallingford. I will hold down the fort, as they say, until your return.”

  “Thank you.” A rush of relief flooded him.

  It had not been as hard as he’d expected to assure his holdings. It shouldn’t have surprised him. Mr. Welch had been a steady mentor and friend. Encouraging Walter as he traversed the waters of his chosen career.

  Mr. Welch offered his hand, and Walter clasped it tightly, giving it a firm shake.

  “Safe travels.” Mr. Welch smiled. “I’ll send specifics of any additional details by special courier.”

  Walter nodded, a new relief within his chest. The constriction he’d felt upon hearing the news loosened.

  “Thank you, I shall return as soon as I am able. I will not rest until I find what truly happened to the deceased in the case. I fear there is something even more nefarious than we supposed. I’ll find the proof.”

  Mr. Welsh’s smile broadened. “I knew you would. I have every confidence you will sniff out any misdeeds.”

  Walter returned to his small loft on the third floor above a dress shop. A small space adequate for him, which is how he liked it—until he found a wife. One who would appreciate his career.

  Patience’s lovely face swam in his memory. She did not have the strength of character he needed in a wife. Hadn’t she proven it with her actions? Womanhood had weakened her, though he treasured his memories of the spirited girl from his youth.

  He pulled a trunk from beneath his bed and threw his clothing inside, not heeding the items he packed as his memory wandered to his brother.

  Daniel was gone.

  It didn’t seem possible. His healthy elder brother gone so young, in the prime of his life. A vibrant man of thirty and single. No family to mourn except his sister Henrietta—what must she be feeling? His heart ached at the thought of her grief, and his mother would be shattered at the loss.

  His family was close. Especially after illness took their father, and now his brother. Walter grit his teeth and quickly finished packing. He would leave first thing tomorrow on the morning stage. It was not a full-day’s journey to Wallingford, his childhood home. He could be there by afternoon.

  Patience, she would be there. He slammed his trunk closed. He mustn’t think of her, not on top of everything else that was going on in his life. She would be one more worry that needn’t concern him.

  Henrietta flung the door wide in her rush to greet Walter as he pulled up to the family estate. It wasn’t large, but still held credible status among the neighbors. Well-manicured greenery surrounded the home, and a small fishing pond lay nestled behind the house. He was in charge of only a handful of tenants, and they hired villager men to maintain the grounds. A property to be proud of.

  Henrietta’s golden blonde tendrils were tied back from her face, a few escaping the large red bow tied at the back of her head. She rushed toward him once he set his feet on firm ground, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. Walter held his fifteen-year-old sister. The reality of their loss settled in.

  His mother stood at the front door, her face splotchy and eyes distant, evidence she’d been crying.

  Walter pulled back, brushing away a tear that slid down Henrietta’s face.

  “It will be alright,” he whispered.

  She nodded, swatting her eyes. Walter wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leading her through the front door. Reaching around his mother with his other arm, he pulled her into a hug. She trembled in his embrace.

  Daniel was dead.

  His heart tightened.

  Walter was head of the family now and must buoy the family in their grief.

  After a few minutes of silence punctuated by a few sniffles, his mother pulled away and gestured them into the drawing room.

  “Come, Walter. You must be exhausted from your journey.”

  He followed behind her into the parlor, noting antiques he didn’t remember propped resolutely against the walls. Original paintings hung throughout the room, papered in neutral colors.

  Though there were more things, the room seemed darker than he remembered. He sat in front of his mother, molding into the leather winged-back chair.

  “How was your journey?” his mother asked.

  “As expected, long and dull.” He tried for a smile but found he couldn’t when looking into his mother’s grief-stricken face. “How did it happen?” he asked quietly.

  Henrietta let out a shuddering whimper. But his mother proceeded to give him the details.

  “Daniel took the carriage out, as he so often does, but this time—” her grief-stricken eyes found his. “We’re not sure, but the carriage rolled down the side of a ravine. A wheel had fallen off. The carriage must have been faulty, as it was relatively new.” Her face caved. “He was crushed.”

  The image played in Walter’s mind: his brother, happily guiding the horses down the road, then being jerked off the cliff as the carriage broke down. Walter ground his teeth, hoping his elder brother hadn’t suffered much pain in the end.

  “The neighbors found him,” Henrietta whispered, her head on their mother’s shoulder.

  Walter cleared his throat. “Have you made any arrangements for the funeral?”

  Her head shook. “We wanted to wait for you.”

  He nodded. “I will take care of everything. You have no more need to worry. I am sorry I was not here when it happened, so I could have comforted you sooner.”

  “Thank you. I shall rest easier knowing you are here.”

  He gave his mother a half smile, his nerves on their last thread. He would look at the accounts, then go to his room and wash the dust from his journey.

  “Where did Daniel keep the accounts? I need to check the state of affairs before I can move forward,” he asked.

  His mother nodded. “Daniel keeps the books in the library.”

  Walter stood. “I will be in the library then.”

  His mother frowned. “Won’t you rest first?”

  He shook his head. “I’m needed in London. They have assigned me an important case. If it ends satisfactorily, I can give you and Henriet
ta the comfort that is your due. The sooner I can handle Daniel’s affairs, the better.” He approached his mother, giving her a quick kiss. “I’ll be down for dinner.”

  She reached for his arm, stopping his progress. “Daniel kept us in every comfort. I am sure you can finish your business in London and have a very comfortable life here in Wallingford.”

  He stiffened, looking about finding new trinkets in the room. Something was amiss. He knew the estate income was stretched and could not handle lavish spending. It was the reason he’d trained in the law.

  He mounted the stairs and entered the library to a keen sense of nostalgia. This had been his father’s study before he’d died. Closing his eyes, Walter inhaled the scent of oak and worn leather books.

  The large desk he’d hide under as a boy stood empty. Walter shut the door and approached, running his hand over its smooth, hard surface. He took a moment to compose himself, then sat behind the sturdy bureau, pulling out the drawers one by one.

  He found the account books tucked inside the drawer to his right. Taking a deep breath, he opened the ledger and read, finding receipts wedged between the pages. His mother had been right—Daniel purchased the carriage for a handsome sum last year. He frowned at the manufacturer’s name. Because of their faulty product, his brother was dead. A strong desire to take them to court mounted as he handled the receipt.

  Before he could let blame be placed, his lawyer brain took over, needing proof before he disparaged anyone’s name. He’d take a look at the wrecked carriage himself to determine what had happened. It could have been negligence on Daniel’s part, as hard as that was to consider.

  He continued to peruse through the receipts, then moved to the ledger, checking the figures recorded. His heart plummeted. His stomach churned. He stared at the final and most recent sum. The spending exceeded the estate's income and had been for years. The estate was a mess, mortgaged against the debt. Walter’s jaw clenched, flipping back through the receipts. How could Daniel have been so reckless? Why hadn’t he been told? And why did Daniel continue making unnecessary purchases, knowing he couldn’t pay?