Hayward ripped into the letter, pulling it open. In the dim candlelight coming off the candles in the center of the table, it was clearly difficult to read, for her had to lift the letter a little higher. His expression altered, the brow furrowing harder as her read.
“What is it?” Phoebe asked, feeling fear jolt in her stomach as Hayward looked up from the letter.
“I am so sorry,” he whispered quietly then presented the letter to her.
She took it quickly, reading it as fast as she could.
Dear Lady Ridlington and His Grace, the Duke of Hayward,
It is with great regret I have to inform you that the Viscount of Ridlington has this evening replied to my letter along with the paperwork requesting the separation. As we feared, he has refused to grant the separation. In fact, the paperwork was returned with not only a bitterly worded letter, laying threats at not just Lady Ridlington’s door, but my own as well, but the paperwork was damaged, ripped into shreds. It does not affect our request, for I have already submitted copies to the registrar office as proof of the request of separation, yet it is testament to his feelings on this matter.
I fear the path ahead is much more difficult than we even expected. I beg you both to visit me tomorrow so we can discuss our next steps.
Yours et cetera,
Mr Norman Preston.
Phoebe lowered the letter as she looked up to face Hayward.
“What does that mean?” she asked quietly.
“It means you’re going to court.”
Chapter 18
“How good is this disguise? Truthfully?” Lady Ridlington asked as they stood in the solicitor’s office, awaiting the arrival of Mr Preston. Francis smiled as he looked at her, appraising the outfit. She was wearing the boy’s clothes again. To his mind, the breeches showed off her legs quite a lot, but he was the only one really looking at her that closely, with keen admiration.
“You are looking a little close,” she said with a giggle.
“You asked me how good the disguise is, I have to look,” he said, looking up to her with a mischievous glint in his eyes. She reached out and tapped his chin. He loved the touch, even if it was brief.
“Eyes up,” she said with a chuckle. He laughed too, looking at the way she had lifted the hat on her head, revealing her face a little more. Her brown hair had been fastened low at the back of her head, hiding the usual curls that framed her face.
Before any more words or flirtation could be exchanged between them, the door opened. Josiah walked in, followed by Mr Preston.
“Thank you for coming,” Mr Preston said as he walked toward his desk ready to take his place.
Francis pulled out a chair for Lady Ridlington to sit down in, not missing the way that Josiah was eying him with evident suspicion. Francis offered a warning glare. After the sadness of talking to Lady Ridlington over dinner the night before, and the acknowledgment that they could be separated from each other forever, he was in no mood to listen to Josiah’s jests and teasing.
“I wanted to discuss the next steps with you,” Mr Preston said as he pushed forward some paperwork on his desk.
“Now we go to court, don’t we?” Lady Ridlington asked, moving to the edge of her chair, looking rather anxious as she struggled to sit still.
“We do,” he said with a solemn nod. “With the testimonies of the bruises and the letter containing the Viscount’s own threat, we stand in good stead for court, but…” he paused, looking as uncomfortable as they all felt.
“What is it?” Francis asked, leaning forward a little in his seat.
“I know what I would argue if I was sat on the other side of the courtroom,” Mr Preston said, steepling his hands together as he sat back in his chair. “I would say that no one ever saw who delivered her bruises. They could argue she may have given herself the bruises.”
“She would grab herself around the neck!?” Francis asked in outrage, sitting forward so far that he felt Josiah clasp his shoulder, trying to pull him back in the chair.
“I know, Your Grace,” Mr Preston said, holding up his hands innocently. “It sounds absurd, but such cases have been argued before and could be argued successfully again.” He turned his eyes on Lady Ridlington. “What we need is a witness account, other than your own. Someone who can categorically say that they have seen the Viscount hurt the lady.”
She instantly hung her head, looking downward.
“There is someone else who has seen it all,” she said rather miserably. “But I cannot ask her to stand up in court.”
“What?” Josiah asked before Francis even could. Francis realized exactly who she was speaking of, covering his mouth with both hands in frustration.
