“They don’t want his lawyer there.” That came from William. “Having a barrister there would make it harder for them to throw the book at him when they are so desperate to make an example of him. That’s also why they’ve moved him from Bristol to Winchester. He’ll get less sympathy from a jury almost a hundred miles away than he will from one just up the road.”
“But that is grossly unfair!” Poor Percy clearly still did have a lot to learn if he thought that everyone got a fair trial. “Surely they cannot do that? Not on trumped-up charges when all Mr. Reynolds is guilty of is working here!”
“Irrespective of how trumped-up the charges—and I can assure you that in that fool’s case he is a guilty of them as sin—not only can the courts do that, it is also much more common practice than it should be.” William sat heavily. “Headquarters should have anticipated this and appointed that idiot Reynolds a more local lawyer in the first place.”
“I’ll send an express to headquarters.” Portia grabbed her coat. “If I hurry it might still catch the morning post and, if a miracle occurs, they might still get their lawyer to him in time.”
“That is all we can do.” William’s tone and his expression said that he didn’t hold out much hope. “Reynolds’s fate is in the jury’s hands now.”
Poor blue-blooded Percy was still open-mouthed. “But what the authorities have done is tantamount to perverting the course of justice. Surely that is against the law?”
“They are the law,” said Portia with a resigned shrug. “That is the problem. As William just said, this sort of thing isn’t uncommon, and headquarters really should have anticipated a last-minute change of trial location.”
“And we are just supposed to blithely accept that outrage as the way of things?”
“All we can do is keep pointing out why it is an outrage so that others can be outraged too.” Something positive Portia could at least do in this week’s opinion piece. “Only momentum changes laws.”
“Speaking of outrage…” Jim’s tone suggested that he was the harbinger of more bad news. “Mr. Reynolds’s merry band of agitators ain’t happy about the switch. They are having a meeting tonight.”
“That means trouble is brewing here in Bath that we’ll inevitably get linked to.” Even William looked concerned at that. “So we all need to be extra careful and extra vigilant. It also goes without saying that if and when trouble erupts, we all need to be as demonstrably far away from it as is humanly possible or the constable will have us up in front of the beak too. And in our case, on whatever trumped-up charges he sees fit.”
Chapter
THIRTEEN
Leo stared down at the scandal sheet his mother had gleefully brought him earlier and huffed. Because of course a duke’s hour-long chat with his undeniably pretty employee at the fundraising ball made excellent fodder for the gossips. The outrageous speculation in this article—titledDoting Duke Captivated by Chaperone—was yet another awkward thing he would have to apologize to Miss Kendall for, as apparently the innuendo-laden reaction of his marriage-obsessed mother wasn’t quite enough. Never mind all his lingering while he held her hand hostage on the pavement beforehand.
He hadn’t seen Miss Kendall since she had scurried back into the house two nights ago, and that bothered him. As it was now half past midnight and she still hadn’t returned after her two days off, that bothered him more.
For the umpteenth time, he stared out of his open study window and willed her to be wending her way down the darkened path, but alas, it was as silent as the grave.
Or at least it was until both his dogs suddenly leaped up from their sleeping positions next to his desk and began to bark with excitement.
Her!
Finally!
The time to prostrate himself on the altar of dignity and apologize for his inappropriate behavior had finally come.
As he limped out of his study, both dogs flew past him to the kitchen. As there seemed little point in prolonging the agony, Leo released them into the garden and followed them outside. He expected to meet Miss Kendall midway, but he was almost at the end of the lawn when he heard her whisper.
“Shhh, dogs. I’ll be down in a moment.” An odd thing to say but not quite as odd as the sight of her straddling the top of the eight-foot wall at the end of his property. Her bonnet askew, her skirts ruched and twisted around her knees and her expression vexed as she tried to unhook the back of her clothing from one of the fleur-de-lis spikes that protected the top of the brickwork. At least it was vexed until she noticed him and she winced. “Good evening, your grace.”
“What the blazes are you doing up there, Miss Kendall?”
“Somebody decided to move the key to the back gate from its usual hiding place, so I couldn’t get back in. Rather than disturb anyone’s slumber, I decided to just climb over the wall instead.”
“Was your plan just to throw yourself from the top and hope for the best?” Because it was a long drop.
“It was actually to use these spikes to gently lower myself to the ground. If I manage to ever untangle myself from them.” Her smile was sheepish. “I did rather misjudge the width between them and the width of myself.” She reached behind her and wrestled with the fabric some more. She gave a final yank, then grinned triumphantly while she quickly used the freed fabric to cover her exposed calves. “That’s better.”
That all depended on your point of view, and he had much preferred the view of those shapely calves than not, but he smiled regardless as he lifted his arms. “If you swing your other leg over, I shall catch you.”
She eyed his outstretched hands dubiously, then shook her head.“If it’s all the same to you, your grace, I’d much prefer to do this myself.”
“I can assure you that I will not drop you, Miss Kendall.” His manly pride was slightly offended that she doubted his abilities. “My ankle might still be a bit tender but there is nothing wrong with my arms.” Would it be wrong to flex one and try to impress her with his muscles?
Probably.
