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Ralph sat outside the doors of the sitting room, his hands clasped, elbows resting on his knees. Nerves jumped as he waited for the Lord What’s-his-face to call for him. He hadn’t been this nervous the last meeting when he’d assumed he was going to prison.
Then again, there had been so much less at stake.
His life had felt expendable then. Now, however…
He was going to be Clara’s husband. Her protector and provider. This meeting mattered now.
“You’re all right,” Wyatt whispered next to him, his hand tightening about the stack of evidence they’d brought with them.
“Thanks, brother.”
“I don’t mean that you are passable as a person, by the way. Because you’re the best man I know. What I mean is, you’ll be fine and this meeting will go well. I know it.”
Ralph sat up, appreciating both his brother’s compliment and his assurances. “I hope so. For Clara.”
Wyatt winked at him. “If she wanted an earl, she could have had one. She wants you and don’t forget it.”
Ralph gave a stiff nod. Wyatt’s words were an excellent reminder and he relaxed.
Brax slapped him on the back. “Besides. If you don’t get the title, we’ll storm the castle, so to speak. It’s all made easier by the fact that we’re already inside.”
Westmoreland chuckled. “There’ll be no need for that. We’ll just unleash Charlotte. My wife should do the trick.”
All the men laughed. Lady Westmoreland was a force, to be certain.
The door opened and Lord Whatmawhosit stepped out, then took a half step back at the crowd assembled.
“Lord Rigby,” Brax boomed. “Good to see you, you old goat.”
“Your Grace,” the man stuttered out. “What are you doing here?”
“Supporting my dear friend Mister Fitzroy and his many accomplishments for his country.”
The man dipped his head as introductions were made all around. Wyatt handed him the stack of papers they’d prepared and then Ralph followed Lord Rigby into the room. It was the same one where they’d met the last time and he was once again shown the to the delicate chair that groaned softly under his weight as he sat.
“Shall we begin?” Lord Rigby asked.
With a nod, Ralph shuffled through the doctor’s findings, the staff interviews, and his own observations.
Lord Rigby grimaced. “Forgive me, but did we need to send the Bushy Hero for this? Anyone could have collected a report from the doctor.”
Ralph straightened. “I wasn’t aware extraordinary was a requirement. You asked me to discern guilt or innocence and I have done so.”
“Yes, but…it’s still only hearsay.”
“And medical proof,” Ralph fired back. “And my own opinion as a man who spent well over a year hunting criminals. Kinross is a selfish boor, but not a murderer.”
Lord Rigby frowned. “I see.”
Ralph narrowed his gaze. “I’ve done as you asked.” And while a title hung in the balance, he’d play patsy for no man, especially not this one.
“You have.” Rigby frowned and then rose, crossing over to the desk and pulling out the papers that Ralph recognized from his first interview.
His breath held in his lungs, his eyes surely growing wider.
Slowly, Rigby crossed the room, holding the papers in hand as he stopped two feet from Ralph, looking down that nose at him.
Ralph resisted the urge to make a disparaging comment. He still didn’t do well when men of authority lorded something over him.
