Translator: Nox

Chapter 60

Windsor’s gaze was fixed on the empty air, his expression clouded with skepticism. Evan leaned forward, pressing his palms together in a gesture of earnestness, and gave a small nod.

“It stands to reason,” Evan remarked. “They are undoubtedly conscious of the danger involved.”

“If they refuse to give their consent, we shall simply compel them to do so.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Evan tilted his head, perplexed by Windsor’s low mutter. Rather than clarifying his statement, Windsor pivoted to a new line of inquiry.

“What sort of things does the Dowager Lady Chamberlain favor?”

“Pardon?”

For the third time, Evan asked for clarification. Windsor’s patience finally snapped; his brow furrowed slightly, and his voice came out harsh and strained through a tight jaw.

“Mr. Evan Knox, was my question not clear enough for you?”

“No, I understood… it’s just—the Dowager Lady Chamberlain? Well, she possesses every luxury imaginable, so it is difficult to pin down a specific preference. Oh! She is, however, utterly devoted to Olivia.”

“Olivia?”

“Her great-granddaughter. Word is the girl is the spitting image of the Dowager in her youth, so she holds an incredibly special place in the lady’s heart.”

This was not the information Windsor had been seeking. He scowled, his brows knitting together in frustration. Evan, however, remained oblivious to the mood. As if struck by a sudden thought, he turned his attention back to Windsor.

“On another note, Lord Preston.”

Windsor offered him a look of pure irritation. Evan, who had been glancing at a newspaper headline, met his eyes.

His voice took on a subtle, taut resonance, like a string pulled thin.

“Is it truly the case that your decision to testify in James Hammington’s trial was motivated solely by Miss Somerset? Was it truly to shield her…?”

“Absurd.”

Windsor cut him off with a sharp dismissal. Evan’s eyebrows jumped, and he wisely fell silent.

“I cooperated with the prosecution and gave my testimony because I viewed it as my obligation. They believed my presence would lend the court a level of credibility that Miss Somerset could not provide.”

“I see. It is true that James Hammington received a remarkably harsh sentence for his fraud—no doubt because he had the audacity to offend the court. Regardless of the reason, Lord Preston, your actions were quite honorable.”

“It was not my doing alone. It came to pass because the aristocrats he swindled refused to remain quiet and decided to seek justice.”

“And yet, had you not stepped forward, Lord Preston, they would surely have stayed silent.”

Evan let out a bright, appreciative laugh. Windsor merely stared at him, his face a blank mask.

“In any event, this situation has breathed new life into the ton. Traditionally, nobles would bury even a blatant fraud to protect the family name. To see them actually filing police reports is nothing short of extraordinary. They surely demanded total discretion, of course, but the shift itself is monumental. We are on the cusp of a great many changes.”

“I only did what was required of me.”

“Ah, you mean upholding the crown’s justice? That interview of yours was exceptionally powerful—it completely swung public sentiment. You argued that exposing criminals is a noble duty, essential for maintaining the kingdom’s integrity and ensuring the law is upheld.”

“Nonsense.”

Visibly annoyed by the lingering conversation, Windsor stood up abruptly. Evan followed suit, a grin spreading across his face.

“You may not realize it, Lord Preston, but you have a natural magnetism that commands the room. We intend to use that to our full advantage during the trial. We will employ every tool at our disposal to ensure a win.”

Windsor regarded him with cold, indifferent eyes. He recognized that Evan was not just intelligent, but possessed a necessary streak of cunning—a vital quality for any lawyer.

“Then I shall leave you to it. Roman, show Mr. Knox to the door.”

“At once, sir.”

As Roman moved to fulfill the order, Evan seemed to recall one last thing and smiled at Windsor.

“Since I am already on the premises, would you mind if I paid a visit to Miss Somerset before I depart?”

Though he framed it as a question, it felt less like a request and more like a statement of intent. Windsor found he had no valid reason to deny him.

Windsor stopped in his tracks and turned back. That familiar sensation of constriction returned to his throat, as if he were being slowly throttled.

He forced himself to stop fiddling with his cravat and leveled a blunt, hard stare at Evan. Their eyes locked, and Evan’s smile only seemed to brighten.

The two men were polar opposites—a fact that hit Windsor with jarring clarity. The old whispers of the nobility—that one can never truly hide the circumstances of one’s birth—rang in his ears.

“Might I ask what business you have with her?”

Windsor knew the question was overstepping, yet he couldn’t hold it back. Caught off guard by the sudden inquiry, Evan’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he smoothed his expression into a polite mask.

“Private matters.”

“…I will notify the butler.”

“Thank you. I shall wait here, then. I look forward to our next meeting, Lord Preston.”

Windsor didn’t look back as he walked away, his stride quick and his face set in an icy, rigid expression.

As he ascended the staircase, he finally yanked his tie loose—yet the suffocating pressure in his chest refused to lift.

---

Jacqueline watched Evan’s face with palpable anxiety. Her eyes, usually so composed and elegant, were clouded with worry as she waited for his verdict.

Evan was reaching the final pages of the ten-page manuscript he held. Feeling the need to explain herself, Jacqueline spoke up.

“It’s only a preliminary draft—just the opening chapters. I was hoping for your perspective on whether the tone is right… Please, be completely honest with your criticism.”

She gave a small, resolute nod, pressing her lips together as she prepared for the worst.

Evan looked up from the pages and met her eyes. Jacqueline swallowed hard, her nerves frayed as if she were waiting for the results of a life-altering examination.

Then, Evan’s lips curled into a genuine laugh. He set the manuscript down on the table.

“This is far better than I anticipated. The way Mrs. Mastis’s constant fussing moves the plot along is brilliant—it’s accessible but gets right to the point. This kind of straightforward storytelling will be a hit with the middle class. You should definitely maintain this style for the rest of the book.”

A silent sigh of relief escaped Jacqueline’s lips, and the tension finally began to leave her shoulders. Her elegant composure returned as she looked down.

“Do you really think so? That is such a relief.”

“The moment this hits the shelves, it’s going to cause quite a stir—though whether the reaction will be positive or negative, I can’t say for certain.”

“Likely a bit of both,” she replied. “Public opinion is rarely a simple matter of black and white.”

Evan’s gaze softened at her remark. Her calm observation carried the weight of experience—the wisdom of a woman who had long been the target of society’s fickle judgment.

She had known kindness from some, while others had surely been her enemies.

Jacqueline had been tossed between those two extremes like a ball in a game she never asked to play.

A sudden wave of protectiveness washed over Evan. He felt an intense urge to shield this woman—to pull her into his embrace and keep the world from hurting her further.

“If you keep up this momentum, you could have the manuscript finished within the month.”

Jacqueline began to gather the papers, looking up at him. Evan took a quiet breath to steady his emotions before speaking in a casual tone.

“Excellent. In my opinion, adding a few illustrations here and there would make the narrative even more engaging. I’ll start looking for a suitable illustrator in the meantime.”

“That would be wonderful!”

Jacqueline’s eyes lit up; she had been worried that the text alone might not be sufficient.

Seeing her smile, Evan added warmly,

“It would be a great help if you could indicate which scenes you think deserve an illustration.”

“I certainly will, Mr. Knox.”

They both stood up. As Jacqueline moved to escort him out, she suddenly faltered.

Evan looked at her curiously. After a moment of hesitation, Jacqueline carefully chose her words.

“How is the preparation for the trial progressing?”

The question seemed to catch Evan off guard, and he let out a reflexive laugh. Jacqueline, however, remained serious, her eyes filled with tension.

She couldn’t bring herself to ask Windsor. She felt she had been of no help to him, and therefore had no right to pry.

Her strategy had been to act as though nothing were wrong—to share tea and meals, and even offer him the occasional lighthearted scolding.

Windsor hadn’t complained; he seemed to truly understand her predicament and never mentioned the legal battle in her presence.

The trial had become a forbidden subject between them.

“To be perfectly frank, it isn’t going as well as we’d hoped.”

“…Why is that?”

Without realizing it, Jacqueline’s hand tightened on the fabric of her skirt. Only her white-knuckled grip betrayed her internal distress.

Evan raised an eyebrow, then spoke in a low voice.

“No one is willing to testify on Lord Preston’s behalf. Who would want to risk the King’s wrath? We expected some resistance, but the silence is deafening. As a last resort, the estate’s butler and housekeeper have offered their testimony—but I’m concerned the court won’t find them credible, given their employment under Lord Preston.”

“I understand.”

Jacqueline lowered her eyes, sinking into her thoughts. Watching her, Evan spoke up again.

“I don’t want you to think I’m asking you to testify, Miss Somerset. I fully respect your decision.”

“…Thank you, Mr. Knox.”

“Think nothing of it.”

With a polite, gentlemanly smile, Evan took his leave. Jacqueline followed him to the door, her heart feeling heavier with every step.

She walked in silence, her eyes fixed on the floor, before letting out a weary sigh. A sad, faint smile touched her lips.

“What were the two of you discussing?”

The voice startled her. She looked up to find Windsor standing perfectly still in the corridor, having just seen Evan out.

“Oh—Lord Preston.”

She breathed out a sigh of relief; for a split second, she’d felt as though she’d run into a ghost.

As she approached him, she gave him a look of mild reproach. He, in turn, watched her with an intense, searching gaze.

Suddenly, Jacqueline’s expression hardened. It was a reaction she hadn’t expected from herself. Why was she feeling this surge of anger when she had been drowning in guilt only moments before?

“It was a private matter,” Jacqueline said, her tone intentionally cool.

“A private matter?”

“Much like the one between you and Miss Wilson, Lord Preston.”

Jacqueline bit her lip. She had hoped that striking back would make her feel better, but it had the opposite effect. Her heart felt more burdened than ever.