“I’ve already taken the liberty,” Alister announced.
Lyra felt her annoyance instantly return, although she held her tongue in the presence of Mr. Lyridon. It wouldn’t do for him to get the wrong first impression of her when he was there to plead her cause.
Nevertheless, the barrister must have felt the growing tension in the room, for he offered Lyra an arm. “I know it’s Albright’s right to escort you into the dining room as he far outranks a mere ‘sir,’ but if we might ignore the proprieties for one evening?”
He lifted an inquiring brow and, combined with his twinkling eyes, she instantly relaxed.
She certainly knew where the“Sinful Swains”moniker had come from.He was just as devilishly charming as his cousin. It was too bad that, other than an appreciation of his good looks and character, there was no fluttering of her heart or trembling of her pulse as she took his arm.
Even so, Mr. Lyridon turned out to be a rather enjoyable dinner companion. He carried most of the conversation with an easy grace, and the stories he told had her laughing on more than one occasion. The duke remained silent for the most part, but Lyra would catch his burning gaze now and again when he took a drink from his wineglass. He almost appeared…angryat times, but then, she didn’t know why that might be so. She was doing nothing that might be considered improper, and surely his surly mood wasn’t because he was actuallyjealous.
It wasn’t until the meal was concluded and the trio began to return to the parlor for the interrogation that Alister pulled Lyra aside with a hand on her arm. “There is no reason to flirt so shamelessly with Talon in order to gain his approval,” he nearly growled in her ear. “You will find that he is extremely fair in all of his dealings.”
Lyra could only stare. She didn’t know whether to laugh at such an absurd accusation—or punch him. “You forget yourself, Your Grace. To hear you speak, it’s as if you hold a low opinion of me, but if that is the case, I wonder why you are here at all. Now, if you will excuse me?”
She pulled her arm free and stalked away from him.
Lyra was still fuming when she joined Mr. Lyridon, although she did her best to keep her temper under control, even after the duke joined them. Alister shut the parlor door and leaned against it, arms crossed and gaze intent as he stared at her.
She turned to the barrister. “Does he have to be in here?”
Mr. Lyridon, in turn, offered an empathetic smile. “I’m afraid so. He is a reliable witness to your testimony.”
She clenched her jaw. “Very well.”
Lyra watched as Talon withdrew a rosewood writing box. He opened a drawer on the side before taking out a pencil and several sheets of vellum and placing them on the sloped top to use as a personal desk. He scratched a few notes on one of the pages and then returned his gaze to her. His easy manner had vanished and a serious demeanor had replaced it. It was apparent that he took his job very seriously, and Lyra knew that if anyone could help her achieve an acquittal, it would be this man.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
At her nod, he recited what he’d just written—the date, time, and whom he was interviewing—before he said, “Now, my lady, just take a deep breath and start by recounting the events that took place on the sixteenth of November, in the year of our Lord and sovereign, eighteen hundred and nineteen.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. “The entire day? Not just what I remember of the accident?”
He nodded. “Some of the most important details are the ones we would otherwise consider as trivial.” He must have noted her pale expression, because he reassured her, “Take however much time you need.”
Lyra realized that things couldn’t have taken a more sour turn if she’d wanted them to. While certain things on that fateful day were rather hazy, that morning was abundantly clear, and the fact that Alister would be there to hear every sordid word…
She clasped her hands together in her lap to still their sudden trembling and decided there was nothing she could do but press forward. She swallowed over the growing lump in her throat. “I woke up, got dressed, and went down to breakfast as usual. The servants behaved as they always did, so nothing was out of the ordinary on that score.”
She tried to ignore the scratching of the pencil as he recorded the events of that day, but it grated on her nerves nevertheless.
“Do you recall the time?”
Lyra had always been an early riser, so she answered honestly. “Around seven-thirty, I would say.” He nodded, and she took that as a sign to continue. “After breakfast, I intended to go to the library to spend most of the day reading, like I usually did.”
“Was Lord Weston at breakfast?”
“No,” Lyra replied woodenly. “He had yet to…return home.”
For some reason, she could feel the duke’s eyes upon her, but she didn’t dare look at him, feeling that the bravado she was struggling to hold on to would sever and break completely, especially if there was one ounce of pity there.
“So you went to the library?” Mr. Lyridon prompted.
Lyra had to clear her throat before she could answer. “I…never made it that far. Roger returned in the interim, as I was heading upstairs.”
She could see it all now, as if it were happening again, and suddenly the words that had been so difficult earlier wouldn’t seem to stop flowing. “He was in a terrible state. I could tell that he’d been drinking, the scent of brandy was almost overpowering. I haven’t been able to stand the smell of it since then. He was wearing the same clothes from the day before, but they were rumpled and his cravat was missing. He caught sight of me on the landing and started to come for me. I turned and ran, knowing what was going to come next. My heart was pounding and my head was spinning in fear. I wanted to cry out for help, but I knew no one would come.”
She took a deep breath as the panic returned. “He caught up to me just as I reached the door to the library. If I could have just made it inside, I would have locked him out like I’ve done before until his rage cooled off. He was always mad at me for some reason, but I’d never seen him in such a state as this. I knew it would be worse than before. Even though I was prepared for the first strike of his fist, the sheer force of it still slammed me up against the wall.”
