“She would willingly stand up for you in court,” Francis said, thinking of the maid back at his house that was so devoted to Lady Ridlington.
Louisa.
“I cannot do that to her,” Lady Ridlington said with surprising strength as she looked up. “She is in my service in hiding, Your Grace.” She held his gaze with the words.
He remembered very well what she had said of Louisa’s past, how she had been at the hands of a brutal man herself, and Lady Ridlington had given her the path out of that life.
“If I were to put her in court, her name would be repeated in the papers, wouldn’t it?” she said, looking between all three men.
“It could not be avoided,” Mr Preston agreed. “This is a high-profile case, of a viscount and his wife. You are also the daughter of a baron, my Lady. When this hits the courts, it will be reported in the papers.”
“I cannot risk someone reading her name in the papers,” Lady Ridlington said, shaking her head.
“My Lady, please,” Francis said, heading the desperation in his own voice as he leaned toward her. “If it is the only way to convince a court –”
“I will not risk her life in exchange for my own.” Her tone was emphatic as she held his gaze and lifted the flat cap on her head a little higher. “We stand a chance of convincing a court without her, yes?” she asked, looking at the solicitor.
“A small chance,” he accepted with a nod.
“Then I am willing to take that gamble.”
Francis looked to Josiah, seeing the same look of worry that he was sure resided his own expression. Without Louisa’s testimony in a court, the jury could well come down on the side of the Viscount, deciding there was not enough evidence that he was the cause of her bruises. The thought of seeing her go back to the Viscount disgusted Francis.
“As you wish, my Lady,” Mr Preston said as he rearranged the paperwork on his desk. “Now, let us discuss the particulars of the procedure we will now go through. After that, I will appeal to the courts for a date where we can make out appearance.”
“Very well,” she nodded, “go on.”
Francis stayed quiet throughout it all, only offering a word every now and then. He was happy to give support where it was, but any hope that had been inside of him before the felt was now slipping away.
Lady Ridlington’s protection of her friend showed how kind she was, but it might have damned her to a life where she would always be married to the Viscount.
* * *
Phoebe was walking down the stairs of the solicitor’s office now that their meeting was concluded, with her eyes firmly on Hayward’s back. She was no fool, she could see easily how upset with her he was, but she couldn’t undo that upset.
I would never exchange Louisa’s safety for my own.
As they reached the bottom of the steps, Hayward and the Marquess of Dodge settled up invoices with one of the secretaries, meanwhile Phoebe walked toward the door of the office, peering out into the street. Across the road and sat leaning against a building was a scruffy man dressed in rags.
There was something familiar about him, enough to make Phoebe squint and press her face closer toward the glass set in the door, looking toward him. It took a minute to realize where she had seen him before.
It was the thief who had attacked Hayward when they had last come to visit the solicitor’s office.
“Your Grace?” she called from to him. He looked up from the paperwork he was attending to with the secretary, looking toward her.
“I’ll be there in a second,” he assured her, before looking back down to the paperwork, clearly trying to get it done quickly now.
She turned her head back to look out of the glass toward the road where the thief seemed to be talking at people passing him by, possibly begging for money. It continued in this way for a few minutes when a carriage pulled up at the side of the road. From the position it meant Phoebe could see both the carriage, and the thief. His eyes seemed to light up at seeing the carriage, probably thinking he had another target to try and steal from.
Phoebe turned her eyes on the carriage with worry, then realized she had seen the carriage before. There was a time when she had frequently clambered inside it, being carted to assemblies with Graham at her side, insulting what dresses she had chosen to wear, saying she was making a spectacle of both herself and him.
“Oh no…” she muttered in realization, watching as the carriage door opened and Graham stepped out. “No, no.” She turned and called to the secretary. “Does Mr Preston have a meeting today with the Viscount of Ridlington?”
“No, my Lady,” the secretary said, shaking his head.
“What?” the Marquess of Dodge said, moving away from the desks and coming toward her side.
“Well, he’s here!” Phoebe said, gesturing out of the window. Hayward was quick to follow, coming up to her other side so they could all look out together.
