Chapter 10 #2
“You didn’t happen to tell him about Beasley, did you?” Heathbrook asked.
“No. The less people who know about Beasley, the better.”
“That’s what I think. Besides which, Giselle is nervous about having it generally known that her papers are suspect.”
“I can look into that for you,” Scovell said. “Discreetly, of course. But not just now.”
“I understand. You need to be with your family. Besides, Sir Lucius has promised to look into it for me, too, so I’ll let him do so. I may ask for your help later, however, depending on how long all of this goes on.”
Scovell searched his face. “Speaking of that, Percy did say you were behaving like a jealous fool over Miss Bernard at the party where he last saw you. Doesn’t sound to me like a man just fulfilling the terms of a bargain.”
“Leave it be, will you, Scovell?” He ate his last piece of toast. “Giselle will be here any minute with her mother, who is unaware of the nature of our . . . bargain.”
As if he’d summoned her by his very words, someone tapped on the door. “My lord?” Renham called through the door. “Mademoiselle Bernard and her mother have arrived.”
He walked over to open the door. “Go ahead and show them back.”
Scovell barely had time to rise from his chair before Renham was ushering Giselle and her mother into the breakfast room.
“Captain Scovell!” Giselle walked up to him wearing a concerned expression. “How is your brother?”
“He’s hanging on,” Scovell said. “Thank you for asking.”
Quickly, she introduced her mother to Scovell, who’d never met the woman. Scovell was fluent in French, too, so the four of them exchanged pleasantries a moment before Heathbrook took out his watch and glanced at it.
“Forgive me, old chap,” he told Scovell, “but we must leave now if we’re to make it to court on time. Feel free to stay a while longer if you’d like.”
Scovell shook his head. “I should get back. The doctor is coming later this morning, and I promised my sister-in-law that I’d be there for that.”
To Heathbrook’s surprise, Giselle slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. “You are always welcome here, I daresay, Captain. Or at the lodgings Maman and I share. You must come for dinner with us sometime.”
An ironic smile tipped up Scovell’s lips. “I would like that, thank you.”
“We could even invite Lady Chloe,” she said.
“Why would you want to do that?” Scovell asked warily.
She gripped Heathbrook’s arm. “To even up the numbers of gentlemen and ladies at dinner, of course.”
“Ah.”
As they all walked out, Heathbrook asked Scovell, “Can we drop you somewhere?”
“No need. I came in my curricle.” Tipping his hat, he added in French, “Madame Bernard, so nice to meet you. And Miss Bernard, it’s always a pleasure to see you.” He nodded to Heathbrook. “But if this rascal ever fails you, just say the word, and I’ll be there.”
Heathbrook glared at him. “I can take care of my own, damn you.”
“Thank you,” Giselle said hastily. “I am sure everything will be fine.”
“I hope so.” Then with a bow to her, Scovell left.
“What was that about?” Giselle whispered in English.
“Scovell sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.” When she looked confused, he sighed. “I told him about our bargain.”
“Are you not worried that Jon will hear of it?”
“I made Scovell promise not to tell anyone. But he guessed why I got engaged so suddenly, and that left me with no choice.”
She chuckled. “How unusual for you.”
“Don’t tweak my nose over it, for God’s sake.”
“Why not? He was being very sweet, and you do not appreciate that.”
“Being sweet to you, you mean. Not so much to me.”
Her pretty eyes sparkled at him. “That seems to be happening to you a great deal lately.”
He couldn’t deny that. And he probably deserved it, too. He only hoped the court didn’t see it that way. Because if he couldn’t gain custody of his brothers, all of his machinations—including his faux engagement—had been for naught.
Giselle had not known what to expect at the Court of Chancery, mostly because she’d never been inside any court, in England or France.
It was just her and Heath and his lawyer Mr. Pitney on the one side and Mr. Yates and the man’s attorney on the other.
Maman was seated with her and Heath, too, since Mr. Pitney had felt that her presence might play on the sympathies of the judge.
But was that even possible? As they rose for the Lord Chancellor, the judge who entered the courtroom, resplendent in his black robes with their gold stripes and his white, full-bottomed, powdered wig, did not seem to have any sympathies toward anyone.
He scowled at them indiscriminately, as if the very fact that they graced his court annoyed him.
Giselle leaned over to whisper to Heath, “Where are the boys?”
“Outside in the hall, probably.”
“Have they no say in who their guardian is?”
“Evan and Kit do because they’re over fourteen,” Heath explained, “but I doubt they know that they do. And why would Yates tell them? He would not wish to have them choose between me or him. They would choose me. Or Kit would, at any rate. I no longer know about Evan. He seems to have taken on some of Yates’s own traits these days. ”
She eyed him askance. “Or he is just a typical boy of eighteen who cannot tell his friends from his foes and so would rather keep his distance from all.”
Heath released a breath. “You’re right. He certainly doesn’t seem to be sure of his enemies these days.”
“Shall you tell them they have a choice?”
He looked startled by the question. “And have them make the wrong one? There’s too much at stake for that.”
She was about to point out that he was then no better than Yates, when court was called to order, and they had to take their seats.
The two barristers took turns explaining why they thought their respective clients deserved to have custody. Then the evidence portion of the trial began.
What followed from Mr. Yates’s side of the argument was a parade of six women with flamboyant personalities wearing gowns that ranged anywhere from desperately cheap to wildly extravagant. As each came in and stated her name, Heath groaned.
Because, as it turned out, they were all former ladybirds or actresses or married acquaintances of his lordship.
A couple were détenus, reminding her that Heath was not to be trusted when it came to women.
She even knew one of them, who waved to her as she walked past, and actually called out, “Mademoiselle Bernard! It’s good to see you again. ”
Even as Giselle swallowed hard, Mr. Yates’s attorney began to speak. “My apologies, Your Honor, for the language I am about to use. But the women you see here are all willing to testify to having had . . . er . . . intimate relations with the earl upon several occasions.”
Heath had gone red in the face, but Giselle could not tell if it was from anger or embarrassment.
“That should demonstrate adequately to you, Your Honor, that his lordship tends to spread his affections around, so to speak. That his character is the sort we find in the unreliable ne’er-do-wells who populate the city now that the war is over. That a man of his proclivities—”
“Proclivities, Counselor?” the chancellor interrupted, his voice dripping sarcasm. “For bedding women? If that were the sole indicator of unreliable ne’er-do-wells, then they are populating Parliament in great numbers as well.”
“But, Your Honor,” the fellow said, “the man will be shaping the lives of these young boys.”
“Two of whom are nearly grown, Counselor. Before you continue elaborating on the earl’s peccadillos as a young man, I should like to know what other kind of evidence you have to produce. How responsible is he as a landowner? Has he ever broken the law? Is he in debt?”
The man began flipping through papers. “Um . . . Your Honor . . . I have not . . . that is, we have not had time to suitably investigate the matter of . . .” He seized on something. “There is a question about the true nature of his ‘engagement’ to Miss Bernard.”
Heath growled something to Mr. Pitney, who leapt to his feet. “I would like to know what our learned colleague is insinuating, Your Honor.”
“So would I,” the chancellor said dryly.
Mr. Yates’s lawyer stiffened. “That perhaps the lady is merely his mistress, whom he is trying to pass off as his fiancée. She is French, you know.”
Even as heat rose in Giselle’s cheeks, Heath jumped to his feet, as if to defend her, but Mr. Pitney caught him and hissed something in his ear that made him sink slowly into his chair.
“What are they saying?” her mother whispered beside her.
“You do not want to know, Maman,” she whispered back.
“And what evidence do you have of that, Counselor?” the chancellor asked Mr. Yates’s lawyer.
“I am merely pointing out—”
“You are speculating based on the fact that the woman is French, in other words,” the chancellor said. “So, let us hear from one of your own witnesses.” He crooked a finger at the détenu who had waved at Giselle earlier. “Come up here, Mrs.—”
“Lane, Your Honor.” Looking a bit wary, she walked up to the witness box and was sworn in.
“Mrs. Lane,” the chancellor said, “do you know this woman, Mademoiselle Bernard?”
“Yes, Your Honor, she worked at the lodging house where his lordship lived in Verdun.”
“To your knowledge, were she and his lordship involved in an illicit affair?”
“Not that I ever saw, Your Honor. She was kept too busy working for the landlady, Mrs. Dubois. Besides, she was Mrs. Dubois’s cousin and a respectable lady. I never saw her with any man except that old tutor who taught her English.”
The chancellor stared Mr. Yates’s lawyer down. “I should point out, Counselor, that Mrs. Lane is your own witness, and even she vouches for the character of Mademoiselle Bernard.”
He told Mrs. Lane to step down, and she returned to the group of other women.