“Then perhaps it’s fortunate that you’re not me,” Darius remarked, sending an amused glance Flick’s way. “I appreciate that outspokenness is a failing of yours, but discretion is sometimes a better bedfellow.”
“That would depend upon your definition of failing,” Flick said breezily. “I cannot abide flummery and find it so much nicer when people say precisely what they mean. Then one knows where one stands.”
“All right, Flick, since you prefer honesty I’ll oblige you.” Darius fixed her with a stern stare. Flick met his eye, quirked a brow in polite enquiry and refused to flinch. He was so handsome, which helped to explain why she had been obsessed with him ever since he had rescued her from that tree when she’d been just eleven—or was it twelve?—years old. She could happily have exchanged glances with him all day. “You should not have come to the Bailey today, especially not without a chaperone. It’s not a suitable place for well-bred young ladies.”
“I didn’t come alone. I came with Beth.”
“Who, pardon my candour, Miss Elliott, is even less suited to the environment than you are.”
“You need not be afraid that we disapproved of your performance, Darius,” Flick said with an impish smile. “You were quite impressive.”
His lips quirked. “You make me sound like a performing seal.”
“Is there not a part of the stage in the way a barrister addresses the court?” Beth asked.
Darius conceded the point with a reluctant nod. “More often than not, and today was a prime example. However, we digress. Flick, I must ask you not to come again.”
She turned her nose up at him. “That’s not very friendly.”
He reached across the table and covered one of her hands with his, his expression almost savagely intense. “I say it because I care.”
“I’m glad to hear you say so at last.” Flick shook herself. “But you need have no concern for my reputation. It’s still only November and no one worth knowing will be in town at this time of year.”
“You’re here.”
“Hal plans to bring his boat up the Thames when they return from their wedding journey, and we thought to surprise them.”
“I haven’t see Leah for six weeks,” Beth said quietly. “My sister and I have never been separated for so long before.”
“You see,” Flick said triumphantly. “Our trip to town was a mission of mercy. Besides, we didn’t come alone. Rob escorted us.”
“But your brother didn’t come here with you today and, I venture to suggest, he is unaware that you did.”
“Bah, he’s playing chess somewhere. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Flick paused and lowered her eyes, well able to imagine what Rob would have to say if he found out where they’d been. “I should be very much obliged if you didn’t tell him,” she said in a tiny voice.
“Provided you agree not to come again.”
“Very well. We shall pass the time embroidering, walking in the park and awaiting Hal and Leah’s return.”
Darius roared with laughter. “I wish I could believe you.”
“Why shouldn’t you?” Flick asked in an injured tone. “I do have some ladylike qualities, you know. Beth sews beautifully and I’m steadily improving under her guidance.”
“Oh, pray excuse me.”
“Stop laughing at me,” Flick said crossly. “Anyway, the other reason we came up to town now is because my horrible step-mama was still in Denby. She’s been staying with Beth’s aunt since Hal’s wedding. I just knew she was waiting for Hal to leave so she could inflict herself on me at the Hall. Since we’re not there, she won’t get past the threshold. The staff has most specific instructions in that respect.”
“I have to agree with Flick,” Beth said. “I didn’t have much to do with her but I thought she has a very high opinion of herself.”
“She can sometimes appear a little forceful,” Darius said with commendable restraint.
“Anyway, Darius,” Flick said, “are you attending Lady Bishop’s party this evening?” She knew he’d been invited. Indeed, she’d reminded the lady to ensure that he was. “It will be quite a small affair, what with there not being many people up yet, but there will be dancing.”
“If you will favour me with a dance,” he said, causing her stomach to roil with a whole raft of pleasant sensations when he caressed her with his eyes, “then wild horses wouldn’t keep me away.”
Chapter Two
“I assume that you at least came in your own carriage,” Darius said as he escorted the ladies from the tavern.
He spoke sternly, adjuring himself not to flirt with Flick. It was a battle he was used to waging with himself. He regretted his momentary lapse when he’d been unable to prevent himself from responding to the life-force that was the essence of her. He’d been fighting the urge to engage her affections ever since she’d left the schoolroom and he’d stopped looking on her as an irksome child.
Lady Felicity Forster could no longer be mistaken for a child. Cream curls bounced from beneath the brim of her bonnet, framing the sparkling hazel eyes that haunted his dreams. Those eyes regarded him with a stimulating mix of spirit and feisty disregard for protocol whenever she engaged him in one of their frequent verbal spats. He often felt she was challenging him to prove himself to her in some mysterious way. Darius suppressed a sigh. She couldn’t possibly guess at the nature of his reaction in such situations and he would ensure that matters remained that way. Anything else simply couldn’t be.
“Well, of course we came in the carriage,” Flick said, recalling him to the moment. “How else would we have got here? I told John Coachman to go off and come back for us at twelve.”
“And here he is now,” Darius said, recognizing the Denby coat of arms on the smart town coach that came rattling down the street. “Right on time.”
A footman jumped down to lower the steps, and Darius handed the two ladies into the conveyance.
Flick lowered the window and waved a gloved hand in his direction. “We shall see you this evening then, Darius.”
“I look forward to it.” He bowed. “Good morning, ladies.”
Darius watched the coach until it disappeared round the corner at the end of the street. He then walked slowly back to the Bailey, hands clasped behind his back, trying to concentrate his mind on the case of sheep rustling he was due to defend that afternoon. The crime carried the death penalty and he owed it to his clients to try and save them from that fate. The case against them was pretty damning and the best he could hope to achieve would be to have the sentence reduced to transportation to the colonies. When he thought of the inadequate living conditions the poor devils had to endure, the hardships they faced simply trying to feed their families, he inwardly seethed, wishing there was some way he could redress the balance. He could understand why they resorted to such desperate—albeit foolhardy—measures and would do everything he could to save their necks.
It all seemed so tawdry when compared to Flick’s lively company. She’d been like a breath of fresh air in this gloomy place, where it sometimes felt as though desperation clung to the walls and seeped into the very fabric of the building. He’d hated seeing her here, worried about both her protection and her brothers’ reactions if they found out what she’d done, especially since she’d only come to see him at work. In spite of her stupidity, though, part of him swelled with pride because she was interested enough to want to know what he did.
“Ah, there you are, Mr. Grantley.”
Darius glanced up to see his instructing solicitor, Bartlett, waiting for him in the Sessions House Yard. “Good afternoon, Bartlett. Perhaps we should consult with the accused one last time before they’re brought to court.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
The two men made the unpleasant walk through the narrow passageway that linked the Bailey to the adjoining Newgate prison. Darius didn’t think he’d ever grow blasé about the terrible conditions the wretched souls had to endure in that dreadful plac
e and was thoroughly depressed by the time their meeting was concluded. There was little he could do for his clients and they appeared to know it.
Darius left the court after the verdict was delivered, satisfied that he couldn’t have hoped to achieve more. Unsurprisingly his clients had been found guilty but thanks to his impassioned plea, they hadn’t been sentenced to hang. Instead they would be transported. Darius couldn’t help wondering how the families they left behind were supposed to cope without their breadwinners. The system was simply breeding more desperate people whose only hope of survival was turning to crime. Was he the only person in England who could see that and wanted to do something about it?
“Ah, Grantley, there you are.”
Darius only just managed not to groan aloud. Lord Jackson blocked his path, decked out like a peacock as always in the very latest fashion. Such satirical splendour was quite out of place at the Bailey but if Jackson realized it, he didn’t appear to be bothered by it. He was a shadowy figure, closely connected to the government in an unspecified manner, acknowledged to carry out all sorts of clandestine tasks on behalf of his political masters. That he was looking for Darius couldn’t be good news.
“Lord Jackson.” Darius inclined his head, careful to keep his expression neutral. “What brings you here?”
“A moment of your time, if you please.” He led Darius directly to the sheriff’s private parlour. Clerks working in the outer office all stopped what they were doing and bowed low. Jackson ignored them all. “We won’t be disturbed in here,” he said, pushing the door to the parlour open.
Feeling as though he were stepping into a web of intrigue, Darius followed in Jackson’s wake and closed the door behind him.
“What can I do for you?” he asked, watching Jackson impassively as he settled himself into a comfortable chair and waved Darius into its twin.
Jackson fiddled abstractedly with the frill on his cuffs. “I think it’s rather more a case of what I can do for you.”
Darius lowered himself slowly into the chair he’d been directed to. He imagined he was supposed to ask what Jackson meant by that. And so he didn’t. He simply sat there with his feet crossed at the ankles and waited Jackson out in silence. It was a technique that worked well for him when interrogating witnesses and didn’t fail him now. People in all walks of life seemed to find silences unsettling.
“I hear glowing reports about your increasing success in defending scoundrels from the full force of the law.”
“Thank you.” Darius inclined his head, as though accepting a compliment, even though Jackson probably hadn’t intended his words to be taken as such.
“I admire your principles, Grantley.” A derisory smile gave lie to his words. “It’s unfortunate for you that one can’t live on principles.”
“I didn’t enter the law for the purpose of lining my own pockets. I rather hoped to make some small difference.”
“Ah yes, you’re a landowner.”
“I have a small estate in Denby.” Like you don’t already know that.
“Did I see Lady Felicity admiring your performance this morning?”
Darius abandoned his disinterested attitude and sat bolt upright. His response earned him a brief smile of satisfaction from Jackson.
“I thought so,” he said, unable to keep a note of smugness from his tone.
“Lady Felicity is my neighbour in Denby.” Darius spoke casually, furious with himself for rising to such an obvious ploy.
“A very superior neighbour,” Jackson said flippantly. “Hardly in your league, old chap, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
Darius did mind but it would be pointless to say so. “Since she’s the daughter of a marquess and niece of a duke, then yes, we’re not social equals. We are, however, childhood friends.”
“And your estate would fit into Denby’s garden.”
Darius quelled his irritation by going on the defensive. “You’re here to make sport of my property, my lord? It’s not as if you’re telling me something I don’t already know.”
“Were you to consider prosecuting a few high profile cases when you’re offered the opportunity, I think I can safely promise you that you would soon enjoy the privilege of being appointed King’s Counsel. Good men like you are hard to find nowadays.”
Darius offered a thin smile. “If you feel the need to dangle a prize beneath my nose, I suspect I won’t enjoy hearing what you have to say.”
“A prize for excelling at your chosen profession. Unless I read you wrong, Grantley, you’re a perfectionist.” Jackson smoothed his cuffs. “Being a K.C. would increase your income and earn you universal respect.”
Get to the point. “What is it that you require of me?”
“The Cuthbert case.”
Darius sat a little straighter. “What of it?”
“For reasons that I won’t bore you with, the powers that be would like to see the defendants acquitted.”
The hypocrisy made Darius’s blood boil. The men he’d defended that afternoon had been driven by desperation to steal one miserable sheep that would have fed ten starving families for a week. Cuthbert and his cohort Baker, on the other hand, were the sons of titled men with more money than sense. They tempered their boredom with their idle existences by playing at being highwaymen. They held up private coaches, robbed the occupants of their valuables and scared them half out of their wits in the process.
All because they’d dared one another to do it.
Darius’s clients were to be transported. The idle coves who’d attracted Jackson’s attention, on the other hand, had the backing of the establishment. Although they had to be seen to stand trial, it was clear that money had been expended in the right places to ensure their acquittal. Probably lining government coffers, he thought cynically.
“What’s that to me?” Darius asked, fearing he knew the answer to his own question.
“Well, dear boy, who better to get them off than you?”
“I’ve already rejected the brief.”
“I’m here to ask you to reconsider.”
To ask or to twist my arm. “Thank you, but—”
“Hear me out before you let your principles get in the way of advancement,” Jackson said, talking across Darius. “You can change the system best from the inside. Change is, I presume, what you hope to achieve?”
“I’d like to see a fairer system, certainly.”
“Well, there you are then. Becoming King’s Counsel will help you enormously. Think of all the good you could do if you attained that ambition. I feel persuaded that you’re very close to joining a select band of barristers who enjoy that privilege.” Jackson abruptly abandoned his cuffs and met Darius’s gaze. “It would also put you on a closer footing with your aristocratic neighbours.”
“The evidence against Cuthbert and Baker is pretty damning. It’s also been plastered all over the newspapers, and public opinion is firmly set against them. Even if I were persuaded to take the brief, I fail to see how I could get them acquitted.”
Jackson’s expression altered fractionally. “Perhaps if you were to ask them why they did it?”
“It’s hard to imagine them having a valid reason.”
“Things are seldom as straightforward as they appear. Take those two this afternoon, for example. They ought to have been sent to the gallows. Everyone expected them to be, including the defendants themselves, I suspect.” Jackson leaned towards Darius. “Men routinely meet that fate in this country for far lesser crimes.”
“If you can call being starving and desperate a crime.”
“And yet, through eloquence and belief in their cause, you saved their necks.”
“Belief in their cause.” Darius echoed Jackson’s words. “That’s precisely my point. I wouldn’t have been successful if I hadn’t had sympathy for their situation. That isn’t a stance I could replicate with Cuthbert and Baker. There is absolutely no excuse for what they did. They have everything in life that those poor wretches this aft
ernoon do not, and certainly had no reason either to steal from or terrify their victims.” Darius curled his lip. “Even if I could think of a way to defend their actions, my heart wouldn’t be in arguing their case and so I would fail.”
“I thought you advocated every man’s right to a fair trial.”
“So I do, and there’s no reason why these men shouldn’t have one. Just don’t ask me to defend them. There are plenty of barristers who’d jump at the opportunity to be involved in such a high-profile case.”
“Indeed there are but it seems that only you will do.”
“According to whom?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
Darius glowered at the man. “You want me to stand up in court to defend two men who thoroughly deserve whatever punishment is meted out to them, and yet you can’t or won’t tell me why it has to be me.” He shook his head. “Thank you for the vote of confidence but you’ll have to do better than that.”
“Don’t be such an idealistic fool, Grantley.”
“If you require them to be acquitted, would it not be wiser to have this conversation with counsel for the crown? It would be far easier for him to make a mull of the case and get them acquitted by default than it would for me to mount a believable defence.”
Jackson merely looked at him.
“Ah, of course, the government can’t be seen to intervene. Besides, Woodard is prosecuting. I understand he sold his soul to obtain the brief, and rightly so. He’s a worthy barrister and the interest in the case will do his career little harm.”
“Quite so.” Jackson stood up. “Just bear in mind, Grantley, that a good barrister doesn’t have to believe in his clients. If that were a requirement, there’d be precious few trials that made it into court.”
“This one does,” Darius said, standing also.
“You’re being offered a prime opportunity to enhance your prospects and your career. Think about it. I shall expect an answer from you tomorrow.”
Darius opened the door for Jackson and let him stride away before he too left the room. A few moments’ contemplation was insufficient for him to decide why Jackson was so insistent on him defending the infamous Cuthbert case. What game was the government’s man playing? Darius was unsettled by Jackson’s detailed knowledge of his private aspirations, information that Jackson hadn’t scrupled to use in order to catch him off guard. Of all the days for Flick to come to the Bailey! Even so, no one should have made the connection between her and his personal obsession with her. If they did, they ought to have thought nothing of Darius’s near neighbour, sister of his close friend, calling to watch him at work.
Beguiling the Barrister Page 2