Chapter 73
Harrison fell into a pointed silence. The spectators, however, seemed to have already reached a verdict in their minds, casting withering, accusatory looks at Gallup.
Gallup gnawed at his lip while Parker’s face turned a violent shade of crimson. Parker glared at the witness he had personally summoned, looking as though he might strike the man down then and there.
“Is it your contention, then, that your dismissal was purely a result of Lord Preston’s whims?”
“Precisely. He may have taken issue with my pedagogical methods, but there was truly no other cause.”
“Very well. We shall move forward with that claim. Even if it stands in opposition to Lord Preston’s account, our remaining witnesses will support Mr. Gallup’s version of events. The weight of credibility remains on our side. We will frame Lord Preston as a volatile and capricious master.”
“Have faith in me! And do not forget the agreed-upon payment.”
Recalling Gallup’s arrogant smirk, Parker hissed a curse under his breath. Beside him, Kale offered a steadying pat on the shoulder.
“Stay sharp, Parker. Do not let your temper get the better of you.”
Gallup, feigning total ignorance regarding the existence of the letter, looked toward Parker and gave a casual shrug. The gesture only caused Parker’s features to contort further with rage.
Evan turned his attention to the bench.
“Your Honor, we ask that the court carefully weigh the reliability of the plaintiff’s witnesses thus far. They have offered nothing but baseless claims, entirely unsupported by evidence. That concludes my remarks.”
With a respectful bow, Evan returned to his seat. Windsor offered a faint, nearly imperceptible nod—a quiet sign of approval for his performance.
Evan exhaled a silent breath, his eyes fixed forward. They had cleared one obstacle, yet the path ahead remained treacherous. They had effectively only managed to return to a neutral starting point.
The only remaining witness Windsor could call upon was William, the butler. Given William’s lifelong devotion to the Preston family, the court was unlikely to view his testimony as anything other than biased.
Conversely, the plaintiff’s case was also crumbling toward irrelevance. After this exhausting exchange, the scales were merely balanced at zero once more.
The true struggle was only beginning. In a deadlocked battle of wills, the King held the advantage; the judge’s bias already leaned heavily toward the Crown.
Their only salvation lay in the court of public opinion, yet the gallery remained undecided. Windsor needed a finishing blow, but his arsenal was empty.
Evan nervously bit his lip.
“Lord Preston mistreated his young nephew, did he not? For the sake of Master Benjamin’s welfare, His Majesty should be named his legal guardian.”
“Have you overlooked the fact that every witness for the King is a disgruntled former tutor? Their words are tainted. Who can say they aren’t simply seeking revenge against Lord Preston?”
“The sheer turnover rate of tutors speaks for itself. It suggests a man of impossible temperament. I’ve heard the boy is already on his thirteenth or fourteenth teacher. Is such a demanding man truly fit to raise Master Benjamin?”
“Quite the contrary. Does it not demonstrate Lord Preston’s unwavering commitment to the boy’s education?”
“I find that difficult to believe. The King is the only one who truly cares for Master Benjamin’s future. Think of the affection His Majesty held for Lady Amanda Preston—the boy’s mother and the King’s own flesh and blood.”
The air outside the courtroom hummed with the energy of a disturbed hive. Rival factions debated with a fervor that rivaled the proceedings inside.
A man with a thick, bushy beard was providing a play-by-play of the trial for the crowd—a service he provided only to those willing to pay a fee.
“Mayor Gallup has been excused from the stand!”
A young boy whispered into the bearded man’s ear before vanishing, prompted a dramatic announcement to the throng. The crowd surged forward, clamoring for more details.
The boy’s message had been a simple update on Gallup’s withdrawal, but the man spun it into a captivating narrative with practiced ease.
“The trial has hit a stalemate, my friends! Lord Preston has run out of witnesses, and the King’s men have been exposed as unreliable. Where does the case go from here?”
In the midst of the gossiping crowd, a lady who had just arrived closed her parasol with practiced grace. Tucking it under her arm, she reached down to take the hand of the young boy at her side.
The pair navigated around the edge of the gathered mob, making their way toward the entrance. Everyone was so captivated by the bearded orator that the newcomers went entirely unnoticed.
A guard at the door stepped forward to intercept them.
“Identities, please. This is a high-profile trial; entry is strictly limited to authorized personnel.”
“Is that so?”
The woman’s brow arched elegantly as she spoke. Just as she began to reply—
“What?”
Roman, who had been seeing William out, froze in sheer disbelief. His eyes widened further when he realized who was standing beside the woman.
He hurried toward them, visibly shaken. The woman turned back to the guard and spoke with a calm, steady voice.
“There—I believe a familiar face is coming to greet us.”
“Ah, that is Mr. Roman Miller, Lord Preston’s aide. If he can vouch for you, you may pass.”
“How on earth did you get here? No, more importantly—”
Roman, usually the picture of composure, found himself stammering. The woman crossed the threshold and spoke with refined authority.
“Would you be so kind as to lead us to the courtroom, Mr. Miller?”
“I—yes, of course. This way.”
Scratching the back of his neck, he led them inside, though he couldn’t stop casting nervous glances over his shoulder.
“How does the trial stand?” she asked. “The crowd outside seems to think the outcome is still a toss-up.”
“It is a difficult situation, as you might imagine. We’ve managed to cast doubt on their witnesses, but we have no one of our own to confirm our side of the story. William just finished his testimony, but his long history with the family makes his word easy to dismiss…”
Roman’s voice trailed off as he glanced at the child, wondering if such grim details were appropriate for young ears.
“So, neither side has gained the upper hand?”
“Exactly. And the judge is firmly in the King’s pocket…”
Again, he fell silent as they reached the heavy, bolted doors of the courtroom.
“We are here. But truly—why have you come?”
The woman didn’t answer immediately. She stood before the oak doors, her chest rising and falling with a deep, bracing breath.
She squeezed the boy’s hand, then turned to Roman with a look of absolute iron.
“Then I have arrived at the perfect moment. Go to Lord Preston—or rather, to his counsel, Mr. Knox. Tell him I have a statement to make.”
Roman stared at her, stunned into silence for a long heartbeat before he turned and hurried into the chamber.
He moved quickly to the defense table, leaning down to whisper into Evan’s ear. Windsor, whose senses were always sharp, heard every syllable.
“Is that the truth?”
Evan’s eyes went wide as he looked at Roman. Windsor likewise watched him, a slight scowl deepening on his face.
Under the weight of their stares, Roman pressed his lips together and gave a firm, singular nod. The King’s legal team watched the exchange with growing suspicion, sensing a shift in the wind.
Windsor was the first to speak.
“I cannot allow this. She is—”
Evan cut him off. Recognizing a desperate chance when he saw one, he stood up abruptly.
“Your Honor!”
Evan’s voice rang out with renewed strength. Parker watched him with narrowed, uneasy eyes, the rhythmic tapping of his pen against the table becoming a frantic staccato.
“I wish to call a rebuttal witness.”
Parker was on his feet instantly, as if he had been coiled like a spring.
“I object! This witness was not included on the official list. I refuse to consent to this.”
“The witness previously declined to participate for personal reasons, but she has now come forward of her own volition,” Evan countered. “While it is true her name was not submitted, her testimony is of paramount importance to this case.”
“And what is the name of this witness?” the judge asked, his voice dripping with reluctance. He seemed ready to dismiss the request if the name didn’t carry weight.
Evan allowed a confident smile to touch his lips.
“Miss Jacqueline Somerset, the current governess of the Preston estate!”
The gallery erupted into a dull roar of whispers. Parker’s hands curled into fists, his teeth grinding together. This was the very woman he had tried to bribe into the King’s service—the woman who had eluded him at every turn.
Parker hadn’t simply given up on her, of course. But Jacqueline was never seen alone, giving him no opportunity to corner her.
Instead, he had applied pressure to her mother, the Countess of Somerset. When he had met the Countess in Southfield, she had been a portrait of nervous desperation.
“Jacqueline refuses to take a side,” the Countess had insisted. “Her conscience prevents her from testifying for the King, but she won’t stand for Lord Preston either because I have forbidden it. She has chosen silence. But don’t worry, Mr. Parker—I will do everything in my power to sway her before the trial begins!”
The Countess had been frantic, and while it wasn’t the victory Parker wanted, he had found it acceptable. If Jacqueline stayed silent, it would hurt Windsor far more than the Crown.
Besides, Parker had plenty of other voices to fill the void. Jacqueline was supposed to be the finishing touch. If a sitting governess testified against Windsor Preston, it would lend an air of undeniable truth to all the other claims.
But she had ignored his overtures, and her name had never appeared on any list. He had eventually put her out of his mind.
Now, at the eleventh hour, she had blindsided him.
Was this the plan all along? Parker wondered, his mind racing. Did they keep her hidden just so I couldn’t get to her?
As Parker’s paranoia grew, Evan pressed the judge once more.
“Miss Jacqueline Somerset is Master Benjamin’s current teacher. No one understands the bond between Lord Preston and the boy better than she does. Furthermore, as a recent addition to the household, her perspective is far more objective than that of the long-term staff.”
The judge sat in a heavy silence, clearly weighing the danger Jacqueline’s words might pose to the King’s agenda.
As the silence stretched on, the gallery grew restless. “Why the hesitation?” someone whispered loud enough to be heard. “Is it true the King bought the judge?”
“…The witness may be called,” the judge finally conceded.
The room fell into a sudden, expectant hush.
Parker slumped back into his chair. His eyes were like daggers, fixed on the elegant woman as she walked with unwavering composure toward the witness stand.
