“Good morning. I’m Darius Grantley and I’ve been appointed to represent you when your case goes to trial.”
The taller man took his hand in a firm grasp. “Thank God! My father said you were not prepared to act for us. I’m Harry Cuthbert. I’m relieved that you could be persuaded. I didn’t think you would.”
Darius said nothing as he turned his attention to Baker and shook his hand. The cell was cramped and damp but the good quality bedding they’d obviously had sent in from home would help to ward off the cold. And at least they had the space to themselves. Cells this size, Darius had good reason to know, housed up to six men in other parts of the prison.
“To business, gentlemen.” Darius perched on the edge of one of the beds. Bartlett sat beside him and the two prisoners took up places opposite. “I’ve glanced at your statements and you both categorically deny having anything to do with the robberies. Is that still your position?”
Both men nodded vigorously. “We weren’t anywhere near them.” Cuthbert maintained eye contact with Darius and spoke without hesitation.
Darius had built his career on being able to tell when someone was lying to him. Against all the odds, he didn’t think Cuthbert was, but he wasn’t ready to give him the benefit of the doubt quite yet. “But you were staying in the vicinity of each attack, weren’t you?”
“Yes, unfortunately that part is true.”
“Well then, what are we doing here? Gentlemen such as yourselves never travel without servants. Or if you do, someone else’s will always wait upon you. Tell me where you were, we’ll check it out, get sworn affidavits and have you out of here without the necessity for a trial.”
“Too late for that,” Cuthbert said wearily. “We’ve already been before the grand jury and our case has been sent to trial.”
“Which means, in the eyes of the law, we’re guilty,” Baker added, as though Darius didn’t know very well how biased the letter of the law actually was.
“Never mind. If we can produce new evidence to show you were elsewhere, I can get that decision overturned.”
Both men hesitated. Cuthbert was no longer looking directly at Darius.
Ah, so now it begins. The lying. The attempts to gull me. Why did I bother to take this brief?
“We were travelling with a party of friends.”
“Even better. Your friends can vouch for you.”
“Well, no, actually they can’t,” Cuthbert said, twisting his lips into a bitter grimace.
“Or won’t,” Baker added.
“And why is that?”
Cuthbert and Baker exchanged a glance.
“I can’t help you if you won’t tell me the truth,” Darius told them. “And whatever you do say to me will be said in confidence. No one else will hear of it without your prior knowledge and I can’t use it to defend you unless you tell me I can.”
“We’ve just finished our final year at Cambridge,” Cuthbert said. “While there, a few of us formed a club.”
“What sort of club?”
“Oh, you know, just young men being young men. At first, anyway.” Cuthbert shrugged. “Drinking too much, getting up to a few larks, nothing serious.”
Grantley nodded. It had happened in his day. “Go on.”
“Well, this tour of the south was to blow off some steam. We couldn’t do it in the summer. We all had familial commitments but we agreed that we would meet up on the first of October, without any servants, and just roam about looking for fun.”
Baker took up the story. “But it turned out to be a lot more than that. Our leader was restless. Not content with simply carousing, he was looking for something to liven the journey up a little more.”
“Drinking, wenching and going wherever the fancy took us, it wasn’t wild enough for him,” Cuthbert said. “And so he started making dares that we all had to fulfil if we wanted to remain part of the club.”
“And we absolutely did,” Baker assured Darius. “The cachet of being a member of the elite Armstrong circle was worth a little wild behaviour.”
“We’d completed our degrees,” Cuthbert explained, “and then followed our families round the boring route of summer house parties. We felt we deserved a little convivial all-male company.”
“Clarify, if you please.” Darius felt a cold tingle creep up his spine. “Armstrong? Are you referring to the Marquess of Pallister’s son?”
“Yes, of course.” Cuthbert raised a brow. “I assumed you already knew that.”
Tumblers fell into place inside Darius’s head. As they did so, he felt so angry that he was ready to commit a few illegal acts of his own. He’d been right royally manipulated. Why hadn’t he gone with his instincts and turned this brief down flat? The marquess was the richest in the land, with the possible exception of Hal Forster. Hal used his wealth to further the interests of his family and maintain his properties. Pallister used his to indulge his only son and was the incumbent government’s main financial supporter—a position that afforded him considerable influence without the inconvenience of holding political office.
Now it all made sense. Pallister probably guessed that his spoiled son was behind this caper. Darius knew of the young man’s reputation for wild behaviour and had no trouble believing it. Pallister would do whatever it took to keep his heir’s name out of things. It also gave his archrival, Lord Jackson, an ideal opportunity to get the better of Pallister once and for all. Their bitter hatred for one another was legendary but since Jackson didn’t enjoy the same level of wealth as Pallister, he’d been unable to keep him from the seat of government.
Darius expelled a long, frustrated sigh. This case must have seemed like a godsend to Jackson. He’d played on Darius’s ambitions and tricked him into taking the case, aware that his only hope of proving his clients’ innocence was to drag the Armstrong name into things. However it played out, Pallister’s influence would be at an end. Rumours already abounded about his son’s increasingly debauched activities, and this would be the final nail in his coffin. It very likely wouldn’t be enough to have Lord Edward Armstrong charged with any crime.
But it would be more than enough for Jackson’s purposes.
It also explained why Jackson hadn’t mentioned Pallister’s name. He must have known that Darius would have declined the brief if he’d been fully informed. Damn it, in all honour he couldn’t turn his back on it now. Besides, he didn’t wish to. These two young men were being used as scapegoats, and Darius couldn’t allow that situation to continue without doing all in his power to prove them innocent.
“And so you’re telling me the two of you were unaccounted for during the time each robbery took place, can’t actually prove you didn’t carry them out but think other members of the club did?”
“I don’t expect you to believe me, Mr. Grantley,” Baker said, spreading his hands, “but that’s precisely what I’m saying.”
“Why would they do that to you?”
“Because we thought Edward had gone too far when he suggested mock hold-ups and refused to participate,” Cuthbert explained. “You have to understand that no one says no to Edward and gets away with it. He’s used to getting his own way in everything and when we turned him down I’d never seen him so angry.”
“We expected him to send us away,” Baker said. “How I wish he had, or that we’d just left of our own volition.”
“You think he kept you there because he cooked up this scheme to do the robberies and frame the two of you?”
“Why else would our names have been spoken aloud on each occasion?” That’s what Darius wanted to know. “If we had done it, I can assure you, we wouldn’t have been that bird-witted.”
“I dare say not.” Darius took a moment to think it through. “How many of you were there on this expedition?”
“Five.”
“Names.”
“Armstrong, Peters and Nathbone.”
Darius knew them all. “I assume you’ve contacted Peters and Nathbone and none of them will
vouch for your whereabouts.”
“They’re too scared of Armstrong to do anything without his prior approval.”
“Besides, they’ve closed ranks on us, presumably because they think they won’t be involved if the case against us is open and shut.”
We’ll see about that. “Nevertheless, I shall speak with Peters and Nathbone myself.”
“What happens now, Mr. Grantley?” Baker asked.
“The prosecution are pressing for an early trial date but since I’ve just taken the case I’ll ask for more time to prepare. Christmas will soon be upon us and so I doubt whether the case will come to trial until January at the earliest.”
“We must spend Christmas in this rat hole?” Cuthbert asked, displaying arrogance for the first time.
Darius stood up. “Better that than keeping an appointment with the gallows,” he said grimly. “I shall be in touch, gentlemen.”
* * *
“I can’t make Darius out at all,” Flick complained to Beth on the morning following the party. “He seemed put out by all the attention I got.”
“I told you it would work.”
“Well, it did and it didn’t. He actually flirted with me, just a little.”
“That’s progress, isn’t it?”
“I thought so at first and gave him every opportunity to take matters further. But he didn’t. What am I supposed to do about him? I can’t stand the thought of another season fighting off suitors and explaining to Hal why they wouldn’t suit. How can I tell him I’m in love with a man who doesn’t return my affection? It’s too demeaning for words.”
Beth patted Flick’s hand. “For what it’s worth, I think Mr. Grantley does return your affection. He just feels a little...intimidated by your circumstances, that’s all. Give him time.”
“Intimidated?” Flick laughed. “That’s just silly. He’s known us forever. Why would he feel intimidated?”
“Because you have more material wealth than he does, perhaps?”
“But why should that—”
“He is a man of fierce principle. I can quite see why you admire him, if for that reason alone. Unfortunately it also works against you because he has too much pride to offer for you if he thinks he can’t keep you in style.”
“Huh, I’d live in a shack if Darius was there to keep me warm.”
Beth smiled. “You only say that because you’ve never had to live in a shack.”
“Oh, you know what—” The door opened. “Yes, Potter, what is it?”
“Are you at home to Lady Denby, ma’am?”
“Oh damn, I thought this would happen.”
“Then don’t receive her if you’d rather not.”
“I’d much rather not. I managed to avoid her last night but if she wants to see me that badly she won’t give up. She must have seen Rob go out and realizes I’m here alone. Besides, it’s time I stood up to her.” Flick nibbled at her lower lip. “Oh, all right, Potter, show her in.”
“Very good, m’lady.”
“Stay with me, Beth.”
“If you wish it.”
Cynthia Forster, Dowager Marchioness of Denby, swept into the room in a swirl of lavender muslin, a bright smile plastered on her face. “Flick, my dear, it’s been too long. Oh, and Miss Elliott.”
Both girls stood and bobbed the merest excuses for curtsies.
“I trust I find you well, ma’am,” Flick said distantly.
“Perfectly well, I thank you.” She took a seat without waiting to be asked. “Miss Elliott, would you excuse us for a moment please? I have private matters to discuss with my stepdaughter.”
“Stay where you are, Beth. Lady Denby can have nothing to say to me that you can’t hear.”
A flicker of irritation passed across Lady Denby’s face but was as quickly gone again. “Have it your way, my dear. I was forgetting, just for a moment, that Miss Elliott is now a member of the family.”
“A most welcome addition. She is already like a sister to me.”
“You already have a sister who is yearning for the opportunity to know you better.”
“Julia is twelve years old. It’s hardly the same thing.”
“Your sister made a fine match, Miss Elliott.”
“As did my brother,” Flick pointed out.
Lady Denby obviously expected Flick to ring for refreshments. She didn’t do so.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, ma’am?” she asked instead.
“Does there have to be a reason?”
“There usually is.”
Irritation flirted with her expression, which was now showing severe signs of strain. “You created quite a stir at Lady Bishop’s last night. Congratulations, my dear. I do believe Lord Hollingsworth is quite smitten with you.”
“Forgive me, but I find it difficult to believe that you came out of your way just to tell me that.”
“No, there’s more. I have business in town that will keep me here for another sennight. My present lodgings aren’t entirely convenient.” She fiddled with her gloves, clearly expecting Flick to come to her rescue. Once again she didn’t oblige. “I was wondering if I could prevail upon you for a room, just for the week. It would give us an opportunity to get reacquainted.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
Lady Denby’s head shot up. “You would deny your stepmother such a simple courtesy?”
Flick met her gaze, making no attempt to keep the contempt she felt for the woman out of her expression. “Absolutely.”
This time there could be no mistaking the anger in Lady Denby’s eyes. “Then you compel me to raise another matter that I shouldn’t have to bother you with.”
“By all means tell me what it is.”
“Your brother, being naturally preoccupied with his forthcoming nuptials, overlooked the payment of my last quarter’s allowance. I find myself in some difficulties as a consequence. I wondered if you might mention the matter to Cowling. I’m sure he would arrange payment if you instruct him to do so.”
“I’m afraid it must wait for my brother’s return.”
“But I understood that would not be for another month or more.”
Flick stood to indicate the interview was at an end. “Then you have been misinformed. Hal and Leah will return any day now. I’ll tell him of his oversight and I’m sure he’ll attend to the matter himself.”
“No, don’t do that.” She appeared genuinely alarmed by the prospect, which told Flick that she’d been lied to. Hal hadn’t forgotten her stepmother’s allowance and she was trying to gull Flick, thinking her still to be an easy touch, eager to please. But Flick had almost come of age, in more ways than one.
“Oh, but it’s the very least I can do,” Flick said sweetly, ringing the bell. The butler responded with alacrity. He’d probably been listening at the door. “Potter, Lady Denby is leaving. Please show her out.”
“With pleasure, my lady.”
“Well,” Flick said, flopping back down into her chair. “Of all the nerve.”
“You look as though you enjoyed that,” Beth said, smiling.
Flick returned her smile. “To tell you the truth, I did. She spoke with Rob last night and could easily have mentioned the matter to him. Presumably she knew he wouldn’t fall for it.” She straightened her spine. “Unfortunately for her, she didn’t expect me to stand up to her. I’ve never managed it in the past but five years is a long time.”
“Her face when you said Hal was due back momentarily—”
They were still laughing when the door burst open and Rob bounded into the room.
“Have you heard the news?” he asked breathlessly. “It’s all over town.”
“What news?” Flick asked.
“Grantley.”
Flick’s heart quickened. “What’s happened? Is he all right?”
“Far as I know.”
“Then what?”
“He’s taken the Cuthbert case. He’s to defend the rogues.”
“What!
” Flick frowned. “I don’t believe it. He wouldn’t.”
Rob shrugged. “It seems that he has.”
“There must be some mistake. I must go and see him at once and straighten this out.”
Chapter Five
“Rob must have got it wrong.” Flick twisted her gloved fingers together and mangled her lower lip between her teeth as her carriage rattled along the cobbled streets. “Darius wouldn’t do such a thing. He has far too much integrity.”
By the time she’d grabbed a bonnet, gloves and pelisse, not caring if they matched the gown she was wearing, the carriage she’d ordered was at the door. Rob had made some vague attempt to stop her assault on Darius’s chambers but she brushed past him as though he wasn’t there, barely hearing his words. With a shrug he let her go, presumably assuming that she could come to no harm with Darius.
That was true enough, but if Darius really had decided to compromise his standards then she couldn’t vouch for his safety. His stark determination to live by his conscience was one of the many things about him that had stolen her heart. He’d already done so much good. Surely he wasn’t prepared to cast all that aside just for the sake of making his name through a notorious case?
Flick ground her teeth, willing the carriage to move faster through the crowded streets, frustrated when an overturned handcart impeded their progress.
This confrontation was about more than just his willingness to change sides. Her nerves were in tatters following the previous night’s party. The strain of pretending an interest in other men where none existed, and never would, had taken its toll and she couldn’t continue with that charade. She intended to find out once and for all how Darius felt about her. Or if he felt anything at all, come to that.
“He doesn’t treat me as though his passions are engaged,” she said aloud, working herself into a state of righteous indignation at the one-sided nature of their relationship.
If it transpired that he thought of her as nothing more than a surrogate sister, then she would get over it—somehow. After all, she had her pride. She would put her nine-year obsession with Darius Grantley aside and attempt to take an interest in the many gentlemen who vied for her attention. If she couldn’t have Darius, what did it matter whom she married, or if she married at all come to that?
Beguiling the Barrister Page 5