Read In the Barrister's Chambers Online
Authors: Tina Gabrielle
In the Barrister's Chambers (5 page)
Chapter 6
“What are you hiding from us, Harding?”
Jack looked up from the stack of papers on his desk as the door to his office flew open. James Devlin and Brent Stone, two of the barristers that shared his chambers, strode inside.
Jack turned to Devlin, the more outspoken of the two men. “I don't know what you are talking about. It's impossible to hide anything from either of you; I wouldn't think even to try,” Jack said dryly.
“Then what do you call the lovely lady that swept past us in the hallway on her way out of your office?” Devlin drawled. “The lovely
unchaperoned
lady, I might add.”
unchaperoned
lady, I might add.”
Jack threw down his pen and leaned back in his chair. “She was here on legal business, nothing more.”
Devlin and Brent exchanged a doubtful look.
“Legal business?” Brent asked. “Since when do you take on female clients that look like her? That's more in Devlin's line.”
Devlin punched Brent in the arm. “Are you insinuating I'm unethical when it comes to my female clients?”
“I'm not
insinuating
anything, Devlin, merely stating fact,” Brent said.
insinuating
anything, Devlin, merely stating fact,” Brent said.
Devlin's eyes narrowed at Brent. “Perhaps it's been so long since you have entertained the thought of female companionship, your opinion has become skewed.”
Jack suppressed the urge to laugh out loud as his two longtime friends and legal colleagues harassed each other. He also wanted them gone. He didn't want to talk about Evelyn or what had just passed between them.
“Enough, you two,” Jack snapped. “I have work to do. Taking on a new murder client is time-consuming.”
That got their attention. Devlin and Brent turned to look at Jack. In unison, they asked, “She's a murderer?”
“Not her. The man she intends to marry,” Jack said.
Their gazes remained riveted.
“She's marrying a murderer?” Brent spoke up first.
“She believes he's innocent. Thus, my representation,” Jack said.
Brent stepped forward. “Which brings me back to my original point. You never work for beautiful women. They are a distraction in the courtroom, remember? Why now?”
Jack sighed, his mind twisting with how much he should reveal. “She's Emmanuel Darlington's daughter.”
Devlin's jaw dropped. “You're jesting?”
“That's the second time today someone has asked me that question.”
“So you're making an exception to your rule because you feel indebted to your former pupilmaster and mentor?” Brent asked.
“I believe so, yes,” Jack said.
“Have you bedded her yet?” Devlin asked.
For some reason, Devlin's remark grated on Jack, and he wanted to hit his friend square in the mouth. “Not all of us are like you, Devlin.”
Devlin grinned. “I'll take that as a no. But I believe she will try your self-discipline.”
“Don't listen to him, Jack,” Brent said. “If you focus on the case, you'll have no time to think of her in a carnal manner.”
Devlin's eyes flashed in a familiar display of impatience. “Not all of us are self-imposed celibates like you, Brent.”
Jack studied the pair. He didn't have to be a woman to acknowledge that Brent Stone was a handsome man. With his tawny hair and blue eyes, Brent had always drawn the female eye. But for all his attractiveness, he hid a dark past behind his formal demeanor as a respectable barrister. As the Crown's leading patent expert, he spent long hours at Lincoln's Inn obtaining letters patent for wealthy, and oftentimes eccentric inventors. For reasons unknown, Brent Stone avoided the fair sex. Only once had Jack caught Brent with a woman. Jack had sensed Brent had wanted the liaison kept a secret from the rest of chambers, and so Jack had never mentioned the encounter to Devlin or Anthony Stevens, their other legal colleague and friend.
James Devlin, on the other hand, had quite the opposite personality. He was the illegitimate son of a duke, and even though he had been well provided for, he had been socially shunned by his father's family. He'd developed a thick skin and had been driven to succeed. Now that he was a successful barrister in his own right, Devlin enjoyed his wealth and freedom to act out his every whimâespecially when it came to London's courtesansâwhile avoiding the marriage-minded ladies of the
ton.
Devlin's free-loving mind-set had gotten him into trouble in the past, but he had successfully fought more than one duel with a disgruntled husband. Dark, daring, and dangerous, women loved Devlin, and he adored them in return.
ton.
Devlin's free-loving mind-set had gotten him into trouble in the past, but he had successfully fought more than one duel with a disgruntled husband. Dark, daring, and dangerous, women loved Devlin, and he adored them in return.
Yes, James Devlin and Brent Stone were opposite sides of a coin, but they were good friends nonetheless.
Devlin scratched his chin. “Wait till I tell Anthony. He's not going to believe it.”
“Actually, I've been meaning to talk to Anthony about the case,” Jack said.
Devlin frowned. “Anthony handles matrimonial matters. What does that have to do with your murder case?”
“He works with some of the best investigators in London. If a man's hiding a secret, Anthony's investigators can ferret it out.”
“Even if that secret is a woman?” Devlin asked.
“Especially if it's a woman.”
Devlin shrugged and turned to leave. “Perhaps Anthony can talk you out of this nonsense.”
“I owe her father my career, Devlin,” Jack's voice grated harshly.
“Then do yourself a favor and get yourself a mistress. And the sooner the better, from the looks of Lady Evelyn Darlington,” Devlin shot over his shoulder on his way out.
Brent waved his hand, dismissing Devlin's speech. “No need for such measures, Jack. Working long hours will keep your mind off her. Just stay focused on the case.”
Jack wanted to reassure his friend, but he held his tongue as Brent departed. As soon as the door closed, Jack let out a long held-in breath. Pushing his papers to the side, he stared at the surface of his desk as Evelyn's image arose in his mind.
He had initially wanted to kiss her out of need and simple curiosity. He had foolishly thought that if he kissed Evelyn, she would be stone coldâlike a dried-out old book that had lingered too long untouched on the library shelfâand he would be able to get her off his mind and move on to focus on Randolph Sheldon's case. But to his astonishment, she had been anything but frigid. She had been as passionate and hot as an inferno; the kiss had been as smoldering as the heat that joins two metals.
It had also been just as jarring. His plan to satisfy his curiosity and quench his desire had failed. He had ended the kiss, knowing that if he had allowed it to continue, his resistance would have been lost along with his logic and legal ability. For a brief instant, panic had pierced him, and he had fought to suppress the urge to usher her through his door and out of his life.
But then cold reason returned, and he recalled his debt to her father.
Jack had been undisciplined until he had entered his pupilage under Emmanuel Darlington at Lincoln's Inn. Emmanuel had inspired Jack to learn and had taken him to task, but it was the taste of his first trial that had fully fired Jack's ambition. A trial victory was like an addictive drug, luring him to continuously crave the next one. To be able to persuade twelve jurors with only his words and a few props that his side was the righteous oneâno matter how damning the factsâgave Jack a feeling of invincibility.
But it was not without cost. Jack worked long, unconventional hours, often leaving chambers with a heavy litigation bag and working well past midnight at home. He had longed for the next trial far more than he had longed for a wife.
He had known of barristers that had tried for bothâa heavy trial practice and a family. Many failed to deal with the stress and too often indulged in alcohol as a way to cope. Their wives were bitter, their children neglected.
No, Jack Harding had sworn never to fall into the marriage trap.
His work was the most important aspect of his life. He had always enjoyed women, just not the tangle of relationships or the typical hysterics that accompanied them when he sought to walk away from a womanâall of which could weaken his focus.
He could work with Evelyn Darlington, he reminded himself. It would require that he keep a physical distance from her, but the fact that Evelyn was just as determined to maintain a professional relationship henceforth should aid his cause.
Devlin's and Brent's advice rushed back to him. Jack would take both. It shouldn't be hard to immerse himself in his work like Brent had suggested. His docket had already been full without the addition of Randolph Sheldon as a client.
As for Devlin's advice to take a mistress, the thought had a certain appeal.
Jack's prior mistress, Molly Adler, would welcome him back if he chose to pay her a visit. He had never officially ended relations with her; he had simply stopped calling. She had sent love notes, of course, but his interest had waned, and as an experienced London courtesan, she must have known to take another lover. But he had no doubt she would invite him into her bed if he chose to knock on her door.
It was a good idea, he knew. There was no easier way to get a woman off his mind than to bed another. They were all the same; Evelyn Darlington was just a woman, no different from any other. And when it came to the importance of his career, Jack refused to allow Evelyn to be the exception to his steadfast rule.
Chapter 7
A week after Evelyn had met with Jack in his chambers, she still had not heard from Randolph. Needing to distract herself, she decided to go on a long-delayed shopping excursion. Her maid, Janet, walked beside her as they passed Bond Street's well-known establishmentsâHookham's Circulating Library, Ackermann's print shop, and Sir Thomas Lawrence's portrait studio.
They came up to Gentleman Jackson's boxing salon, and Janet craned her neck to get a glimpse inside.
Evelyn couldn't blame her maid. The pugilistic arts were presently in fashion, and she couldn't help but wonder if Jack Harding practiced boxing. At once her mind pictured him bare-chested and bare-knuckled, sweating in a ring. Her temperature rose of its own accord.
Biting her lip, she turned to her maid. “Janet, while I'm in the milliner's shop, I want you to go to the tea shop next door and pick up Lord Lyndale's medicinal tea.”
Janet dragged her gaze away from the pugilists visible through the window to look at her employer. “'Ow will I know which one, m' lady?”
“The proprietor knows what I require for Lord Lyndale.”
Evelyn's father had been looking tired of late, and Evelyn was concerned that his hectic schedule was taking a toll on his health. Even though as an earl he need not work as a barrister or a lecturing professor, Emmanuel Darlington refused to act the titled lord and give up his love of teaching.
“Aye, m' lady.” Janet bobbed her white-capped head, and left for the tea shop.
Bells on the milliner's door chimed as Evelyn stepped inside. From the outside, the shop appeared small, and indeed it was narrow, but it had considerable depth.
Evelyn wound her way through rows of display stands, holding everything from bonnets with dyed ostrich plumes to straw hats trimmed with ribbon streamers and artificial flowers, to gaudy jewel-studded turbans. Throughout the shop, expensively dressed ladies tried on hats and peered at their reflections in cheval glass mirrors.
Never one to be obsessed with fashion like many of her acquaintances of the
ton,
Evelyn's awareness of her attire had been heightened after her father inherited his title. Now the daughter of an earl, she was well aware of the importance of dressing the part.
ton,
Evelyn's awareness of her attire had been heightened after her father inherited his title. Now the daughter of an earl, she was well aware of the importance of dressing the part.
A particular bonnet caught her eye. Periwinkle blue, with a ruched silk lining, it had a wide brim and ribbon edge. Beside it was a silk parasol with matching periwinkle fringe and a cane handle. The bonnet and parasol were exquisite and would be just the thing for walking in Hyde Park to shield her fair skin from the summer sun.
Evelyn reached for the hat, and her fingers caressed the fine material. Again an unbidden image of Jack Harding returned, and she pondered how he would react to seeing her in such finery. With the memory of his kiss, heat flooded her face. She remembered his lips, firm yet soft, and the tantalizing taste of his mouth. He was everything she had ever fantasized as an awkward girl and more . . . so much more.
She had desperately wanted to stand on tiptoe and press her body close to his, wanted to sink her fingers into his hair and then run her hands over his broad shoulders. It was as if he had drugged her, taken her will and turned it against her. Instead of being outraged at his demand for a kiss, as a true lady should have been, she had wildly wondered how she had compared to his other conquests, for surely there had been many.
Evelyn sighed, touching her lips with her finger, reliving the kiss in her mind.
An elderly matron with iron gray curls walked past, and the overpowering smell of her perfume wafted to Evelyn. When Evelyn looked up, the woman frowned as if she could read the inappropriate thoughts that passed through Evelyn's mind. Evelyn's finger dropped from her mouth, her gaze returning to the bonnet in her hands.
What was she doing?
It was one kiss. It was a mistake. And it would never happen again. Lust was meaningless and hardly the basis for a good future. The intellectual and respectful bond that she shared with Randolph Sheldon was irreplaceable and priceless. She refused to allow one kiss and a foolish childhood infatuation to distract her from her plans.
She made to return the blue silk bonnet to its stand, when a masculine voice came from behind.
“Evelyn.”
She started and whirled around. “Simon! What are you doing here?”
He smiled and reached out to clasp her hand. “I've been searching for you, Evelyn.”
Evelyn's eyes widened as she stared at Simon Guthrie in astonishment. Simon was Randolph Sheldon's closest friend, and Evelyn had immediately taken a liking to him. Simon was also a University Fellow at Oxford, but whereas Randolph was her father's Fellow, Simon labored under another professor. Of medium height and dark-haired, his narrow face looked older than his years. His brown eyes were sincere under drawn brows and he smiled reassuringly, showing straight teeth.
Simon pulled her behind a tall stack of mahogany drawers. Leaning close, he lowered his voice. “Randolph sent me.”
Evelyn found her voice. “Where is he? Is he well?”
“He's fine. But he needs your help.”
“I need to know where Randolph is.”
“He's in a small house in Shoreditch.”
“Shoreditch!” Evelyn's thoughts whirled like leaves in a strong wind. On the outskirts of London, in the County of Middlesex, Shoreditch was known for its many theaters and bawdy music halls. It was attractive to artists and theatergoers alike because it was out of the dominion of the more conservative London moralists. “Why is he there?”
“Bess Whitfield had a house there for when she wasn't performing in London. As Randolph's cousin, she gave him the key years ago.”
At the mention of the murdered actress, shock flew through Evelyn. “Bess Whitfield! Is Randolph insane?”
“He had no other place to hide.”
“He shouldn't have run in the first place.” Her voice sounded brusque to her own ears.
Damnation.
She hadn't intended to criticize Randolph's actions, but the words were out before she could stop them.
She hadn't intended to criticize Randolph's actions, but the words were out before she could stop them.
“Word is the Bow Street Runners are searching for him for Bess's murder.”
“Perhaps if Randolph had stayed behind and answered the constable's questions, none of this would have occurred.”
Simon's kind eyes studied her. “Do you really believe that, Evelyn?”
Evelyn exhaled. She didn't know what to believe. Truth be told, there was a good chance Randolph would have been arrested had he not fled from the constable. Randolph had been the one to find Bess Whitfield's body in her home. His presence there alone would have been suspicious.
“I need to speak with him,” she said. “I have hired a barrister to represent him.”
“A barrister? Who?”
“Jack Harding.” She wondered if Simon had heard of Jack, being a university student.
“The jury master?”
She looked at Simon in surprise. “You know of him then?”
“Some of his cases and verdicts have been mentioned in the newspapers.”
“Mr. Harding suspected that Randolph would reach out to me, but I thought Randolph would come to me himself.”
“You must know that he could not. It is too risky.”
“Mr. Harding needs to speak with him.”
“I can arrange a meeting, but then Randolph will have to go back into hiding. Can we trust this Mr. Harding?”
“We have no choice.”
Simon's face was grim. “I'll speak with Randolph and send you a note where to meet.”
Simon nodded at the bonnet she held in her limp hands. Reaching out, he squeezed her shoulder. “Buy that one, Evelyn. It brings out the blue of your eyes.”
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