Prescott dropped his head into his hands while Sophia watched her earnestly. “Rhoda wouldnever!” her loyal friend inserted quite emphatically.
“You hated him?” The magistrate held steady.
“We all did! Of course, I would never do… that… with Fl—Lord Kensington! I would never!”
At which, Mr. Bradley raised his brows. Oh, yes, he’d just witnessed… as had her mother… and Sophia, and oh, heaven’s, likely the duke had as well.
“Not with Flavion Nottingham! Not willingly. Not ever.” Of this, she was certain.
Mr. Bradley narrowed his gaze again, and she felt Justin stiffen beside her. “The Duchess of Prescott did not set a meeting with my fiancée last night.” Surely, Justin would bring this impertinent gentleman back to the matter at hand.
“But Lord Kensingtonhad,” the magistrate continued.
Rhoda nodded. “Yes.”
“Had you planned to meet him there?”
“Did I not just explain to you that I thought Her Grace wished to meet me there?” He was making her angry.
Justin squeezed her hand again.
“What did Lord Kensington say to you?”
What had he said?
A frown pinched her forehead as she pondered the question. She remembered being angry. She remembered feeling foolish for having gone out there alone.
What had Flave said? Something threatening? She’d known he was up to no good.
“He did speak to you, did he not?”
Rhoda rubbed her head. “I think he said something about running out of time to win the wager.”
“Youthink? You do not remember exactly? Ah, yes, you are the young woman who inspired the infamous wager this spring. You really should not put yourself in such circumstances, Miss Mossant. A woman invites such attentions—”
“I beg your pardon.” Her mother burst from her chair. Prescott rose as well. “My daughter had nothing to do with that wager. Despite what you might think you may have witnessed here today, Miss Mossant is a lady of quality, and I insist you treat her as such.”
Rhoda swallowed hard. She could not remember ever seeing her mother so angry at anyone other than her father. Prescott took hold of her mother’s arm and lowered her into her seat again.
“I rather suggest you keep such comments to yourself, Mr. Bradley.” Justin looked ready to pounce on the beady little man if he uttered so much as one additional word of… advice.
After an uncomfortable pause, the magistrate persisted. “Had you been drinking spirits, Miss Mossant?”
His question confused her. What did her refreshments have to do with Flavion’s death?
“I don’t understand.”
“Is it possible that you were inebriated? Had you perhaps consumed a few too many glasses of champagne? Your memory seems to be failing you.”
“I drank lemonade.” She glared at him. One did not always remember every single detail to every situation. People remembered the big things. And how it made them feel.
“Very well.” The magistrate cleared his throat. “You did not think to return to the manor at that time?”
Of course, she had! Did he think she was an idiot? “He frightened me. This was not the first time he’d attempted to…” Suddenly, she felt like crying. “He wanted me to attest to his manhood. Not only so he could win the bet… And I refused. And then he made a move to grab me.” She remembered how quickly he’d staggered forward. “He lunged at me.”
“Did you hit him with anything? Did you shove him?”
She’d stepped to the side.
