Chapter 74
Jacqueline held her head high, her expression composed and elegant as she stared straight ahead. From every corner of the room, the inquisitive gazes of the spectators converged upon her.
Watching the reporters frantically scribbling with expressions of fervent excitement, she knew her name would be plastered across special editions by morning. She was destined to be the center of public discourse for weeks to come. Her long-buried history was about to be exhumed and served up as fresh entertainment for the masses.
The “impoverished noble lady"—the girl whose family prestige had vanished overnight following her father’s financial ruin.
That cruel moniker, once the talk of the capital, would be resurrected. The public would devour her story as if she were nothing more than a momentary indulgence.
And then there was Mother…
A flicker of a bitter smile touched Jacqueline’s lips at the thought of her mother’s hollowed features. She quickly smoothed her expression, reminding herself that she was currently standing in the witness box.
Mother will never forgive this.
She would undoubtedly view this as Jacqueline’s final betrayal—the ultimate destruction of her mother’s dream to return to high society under the King’s favor. That dream was now in tatters, and it was her own daughter who had pulled the thread.
It was an undeniable truth. Jacqueline had walked into this courtroom to testify for Windsor with full knowledge of the devastation it would cause at home.
Suddenly, she felt a prickle on her skin—a gaze more intense and unrelenting than the rest. Jacqueline turned her head slowly until her eyes met Windsor’s. Behind his gold-rimmed spectacles, his dark eyes were fixed on her with an intensity that bordered on bewilderment. He looked utterly lost, unable to fathom why she was standing there.
Sometimes, letting go is the bravest thing one can do.
As she looked into his steady, unwavering eyes, Jacqueline felt a pang of realization. Surrender could be an act of courage in its own right. She had lacked the strength to abandon either her mother or Windsor, telling herself they were both too vital to lose.
But she saw now that her indecision had been a choice of its own. By remaining silent, she had effectively sided with the King, ensuring that Windsor and Benjamin would be torn apart. Windsor had fought a lonely, desperate battle to keep the boy, yet he had never once complained or asked for her help.
“Miss Somerset needn’t do a thing. I know that staying out of this is your best option.”
He had explicitly told her she was under no obligation. Even as she prepared to leave the estate, he hadn’t breathed a word about testifying. While her mother had bombarded her with letters and demands, Windsor had never pressured her, never cast a judging glance her way.
It is the gentle warmth of the sun, not the biting wind, that coaxes a traveler to shed their coat—even if his particular sun was a cold and stoic one.
Windsor’s brow creased slightly. Jacqueline started to offer a small, reassuring smile, but remembered her surroundings and looked away. Though she could still feel the weight of his stare, she refused to look back. She knew how easily the smallest gesture could be misinterpreted in this room.
At that moment, Evan stepped forward, his voice breaking the silence.
“Miss Somerset.”
“Yes. I am Jacqueline Somerset.”
Her voice, clear and refined, carried through the hushed courtroom. The gallery held its collective breath. The poise of this “impoverished lady” was unexpected; in that instant, the observers saw the woman herself before they remembered her reputation.
“What is your current role?”
“I am the governess to Master Benjamin at the Preston estate.”
“I see.”
Evan felt a flicker of concern. Even the most iron-willed individuals often faltered under the gravity of a courtroom oath. The atmosphere was stiflingly formal, and novice witnesses frequently struggled to filter their words, inadvertently giving the opposition an opening. Usually, such testimony was rehearsed for weeks.
Jacqueline’s appearance, however, was a wild card Evan hadn’t prepared for. He couldn’t be sure what the fallout would be.
She must be even more terrified than I am.
Adopting the persona of a protective gentleman, Evan softened his tone to put her at ease.
“Please speak freely, Miss Somerset. Try to imagine we are simply having a conversation in a private drawing room.”
“I understand.”
She gave him a brief nod before returning her focus to the front of the room.
“How long have you served as Master Benjamin’s governess?”
“Precisely seventy-nine days.”
A softness touched her eyes as she spoke. That level of precision reminded her of someone. She resisted the urge to check Windsor’s reaction; she wouldn’t give the spectators any more fuel for gossip.
“Your tenure has been relatively short, similar to other household staff. Would you say that allows you to provide an objective view of their relationship?”
“Yes, I believe it does.”
Evan nodded, then glanced toward the royal legal bench. Parker O’Brien was staring at Jacqueline with a piercing intensity. Jacqueline remained rigid, her gaze locked forward, perhaps sensing that any familiarity with Evan would be used against her by Parker.
Was he misreading her? This was likely her first time in such a position. Pushing the thought aside, Evan moved naturally to stand between Jacqueline and Parker, shielding her from the other lawyer’s glare.
“In your professional opinion, Miss Somerset, how would you characterize the bond between Lord Preston and Master Benjamin?”
Jacqueline paused, appearing to weigh her words carefully before responding.
“It would be inaccurate to call Lord Preston a particularly warm or affectionate uncle.”
A murmur of surprise rippled through the gallery. Evan’s expression faltered for a second. Feeling Windsor’s gaze sharpen, Jacqueline continued.
“However, he has always been entirely devoted to Master Benjamin’s welfare.”
“Devoted? Could you be more specific?”
“He took an active, personal interest in the boy’s schooling. He was dedicated to fostering the character and intellect required of a future Marquess. Every week, he personally reviewed my curriculum and scrutinized the lesson plans.” She took a short breath. “And to be fair to his Lordship, he respected my professional boundaries and never interfered with the actual teaching.”
“I see,” Evan said, nodding encouragingly. “So, he provided a level of oversight that most guardians would delegate to others.”
“The plaintiffs suggest this was a form of academic tyranny—that the boy was crushed under Lord Preston’s expectations. Do you agree?”
“Crushed by pressure?”
Jacqueline’s eyes widened in feigned shock. It was a calculated bit of theater, but it played well to the room. Evan hid a smile and nodded.
“Indeed. That is the narrative the opposition has presented. You see it differently?”
“I can state with certainty that Benjamin took great pleasure in his studies.”
“He enjoyed his lessons?” Evan asked with an exaggerated look of doubt, prompting a light ripple of amusement from the onlookers.
Jacqueline relaxed her posture slightly. “Our lessons were far from dry. We drew murals on his bedroom walls and spent hours exploring the park. One wall of his study is a gallery of his favorite things; the other is covered in scenes from classical mythology. Benjamin was an enthusiastic student who often lamented when our time was up.”
The room buzzed. Drawing on the walls? The sheer cost of the wallpaper alone made the idea scandalous to the aristocrats in attendance.
“You allowed him to draw on the walls? Did Lord Preston, who is known for his rigid discipline, not object to such a thing?”
Evan emphasized “rigid discipline,” leaning into the very trait the prosecution had attacked.
“Not at all. As I stated, his Lordship trusted my methods. He was generally inclined to grant Benjamin’s requests, provided they were within reason. Surely, Counsel, you recall the gift he chose for the boy’s recent birthday?”
It was a masterful lead. Evan nodded quickly, as if the memory had just returned to him.
“Of course. He presented him with a model of the Black Fleet rather than a dry academic text. The entire party saw how delighted the boy was.”
“Precisely,” Jacqueline agreed.
Evan felt his confidence growing. “So, Lord Preston didn’t just demand performance; he understood his nephew’s heart.”
Jacqueline didn’t answer immediately. She met Evan’s eyes with a look so steady he found himself raising an eyebrow in curiosity. When she finally spoke, her voice was slow and resonant.
“Counsel, do you truly grasp the burden that comes with the title of Marquess of Preston?”
“I believe I do.”
“Benjamin is only six, but he is the future of his house. To suggest there is no pressure on him would be a falsehood. Like everyone in this room, the weight of his lineage rests on his shoulders.”
The courtroom fell into a heavy silence.
“Next year, Benjamin will leave for Yorkshire Boarding School to begin his formal path as the heir. Lord Preston understands the demands of that world better than anyone. He wanted to give Benjamin the strongest possible foundation—not to burden him, but to protect him.”
A palpable sense of understanding moved through the gallery. These were people who understood the crushing expectations of noble life.
Evan looked at Jacqueline, stunned by how effectively she had turned the tide of the room. He hadn’t expected this level of insight, but he chose to lean into her momentum. He prepared himself to ask the one question he had been dreading.
