Gil had no time to react. His lawyer led them behind the empty table and seated himself with them before leaning toward Gil. “Is that blond gentleman with all the jewels theDuke of Netherby?” he asked in a hoarse whisper, his eyes fairly popping from his head.
“He is married to a Westcott,” Gil whispered back. “And his stepmother is a Westcott.”
“Dear me,” Grimes said. “Yes, I knew that. Dear me.”
A door beside the dais opened at that moment and a bailiff stepped through. “All rise for His Honor, Judge Burroughs,” he said.
And Gil, Westcotts or no Westcotts, rose to his feet while the imposingly robed and wigged figure of the judge swept into the room and ascended the dais. Gil felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. Abby’s hand was in his, he realized. He clutched it tightly enough to break bones.
Twenty-one
No one had breathed a word about this during the past week. The aunts had, of course, talked at Elizabeth’s tea about putting their heads together to form a plan. They always did that whenever they perceived a need within the family. Rarely did their plans come to fruition.
But today the family had come in force. To offer moral support. To—
Abigail’s thoughts paused for a moment while she turned her head sharply as the judge settled behind his desk and everyone else sat down. Her mind had just caught up to her eyes.Joelwas here. When had he come up from Bath? And for what purpose? Just for this? Butwhy?
Fleetingly, before she turned her head back to face the judge, she noted that there was a stranger seated on a chair behind the back row. Perhaps he had sat in the wrong place. Perhaps he had come for the Pascoes.
General Pascoe, seated at the other table—at least Abigail supposed it must be he—was resplendent in his dressuniform. Perhaps after all it would have been better if Gil—
But the proceedings were beginning, and the judge announced that this was an informal hearing in which he sincerely hoped an amicable arrangement could be made for the future care of Miss Katherine Mary Bennington. But what was informal about it?
He then called upon General Sir Edward and Lady Pascoe’s lawyer to make his case for the child’s remaining with her grandparents and for excluding Lieutenant Colonel Bennington from having any and all access to her.
The general, his medals clinking against one another as he moved in his chair, looked formidable as well as resplendent. Lady Pascoe looked no less forbidding. She was younger than Abigail had expected. She looked elegant and haughty and had a commanding presence. It seemed doubtful that she allowed her will to be thwarted very often.
And then, just as their lawyer was getting to his feet and clearing his throat while thrusting his hands beneath his robe to clasp them behind his back, a door opened abruptly. Abigail turned to look behind her and there was a panting and a woofing and a scrabbling of nails upon uncarpeted floor and a joyful bark—and Beauty came galloping into sight, to stop beside their table, waving her tail and trailing a leather leash.
“Oh, I say. I am most dreadfully sorry.” It was Harry’s voice. “She was no trouble at all until she spotted Gil. Lieutenant Colonel Bennington, that is.”
“Sit, Beauty,” Gil commanded before she could jump up on him or decide to do an exuberant dash about the judge’s dais.
Beauty sat and looked adoringly up at her master beforetransferring her attention to the judge as though granting him permission to proceed.
Harry?
And in full military uniform, Abigail saw when she darted a glance over her shoulder. There was a buzz of sound from her family before the judge banged his gavel on his desk. He looked far from pleased.
And surely, Abigail thought—oh, please, please God—she was going to awaken from this bizarre dream now. Gil beside her was looking like granite. And surely, since this was clearlynota dream, everything was ruined.
Disaster had struck.
“And who,” the judge asked, glaring ferociously back toward the rows of chairs, presumably at Harry, “might you be, young man? And who in thunder gave you leave to bring a—thatisa dog, I presume?—into my courtroom?”
Gil, Abigail was aware as she set a hand on his arm, was taking slow, deep breaths. His eyes were closed. Beauty was panting happily.
“Major Harry Westcott, Your Honor,” Harry said. “Mrs. Bennington’s brother and Lieutenant Colonel Bennington’s friend and fellow officer. I sincerely apologize for the interruption. There was a spot of bother with one of the carriage wheels just five miles outside of London, and by the time I got to the Pulteney Hotel Gil and Abby were no longer in their rooms and Beauty was not in her stall. One of the grooms was walking her. Then there was a bit of a delay getting her in here. I had to explain that she is to be a character witness for my brother-in-law.”
The judge gazed steadily at him for a few silent moments. “I am almost sorry I asked,” he said at last, and Abigail felt the first faint glimmering of hope. Judge Burroughshad a sense of humor, did he? “Be seated, Major, and let me not hear another word from you until or unless you are called upon to testify. And keep that canine seated and quiet and that leash in your hand, Lieutenant Colonel Bennington, if you do not wish to have it ejected.”
Gil bent over to pick up the leash. “Stay!” he commanded when it seemed Beauty was about to scramble to her feet on the assumption there was a walk in the offing.
She stayed.
“Your Honor,” General Pascoe’s lawyer said, outrage in his voice. “I must—”
“If you are about to lodge an objection,” His Honor said, “it is overruled. For now. Proceed, if you will. I am rather hoping to be out of here before dark. My hopes for an early luncheon have already faded. Or, indeed, for any luncheon at all. I do not intend to stop until this thing is settled. It is my fondest wish that no one plans to be long-winded.”
