Chapter 75
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“There are rumors that Lord Preston intends to bypass Master Benjamin for the marquessate. Do you find that plausible?”
Jacqueline offered a soft, airy laugh in response. A ripple of confusion and faint disapproval crossed the faces of the onlookers.
She kept her gaze lowered as she faced Evan, yet she could feel Windsor’s eyes on her. His presence was always heavy, a physical weight she didn’t need to turn around to acknowledge.
“Do you personally believe that, Counselor?”
“Naturally. I have full confidence in my client.”
“While I cannot predict the distant future, I am certain such a thing will never come to pass.”
“And why is that?”
“Because Lord Preston tells both Benjamin and myself, time and again, ‘Never forget that you are the future Marquess of Preston.’ If he had no intention of honoring that legacy, why would he make such provocative statements?”
“That will be all.”
Evan retreated to his seat, looking quite pleased with himself. A heavy silence descended upon the gallery as the spectators studied Jacqueline. They were forced to reconsider their long-held assumptions.
The judge adjusted his sliding spectacles and turned toward the Crown’s legal team. “Does the opposing counsel wish to cross-examine?” he asked in a dry, rasping tone.
“We do.”
After a brief exchange of looks among the four lawyers, Parker O’Brien rose. As the one most familiar with Jacqueline, the task naturally fell to him.
Parker approached her, his expression carved from ice.
“Miss Somerset.”
“Yes.”
As he stood before the witness stand, Parker slowly turned his head toward Windsor. Instinctively, Jacqueline’s eyes followed his lead.
Their gazes locked once more. It seemed he hadn’t looked away from her for a single second.
His gray eyes were uncharacteristically expressive. Jacqueline felt a sudden, desperate urge to offer him a reassuring smile, but she forced herself to remain stoic.
Beneath the witness table, she gripped the fabric of her dress until her knuckles went white.
Parker turned back to her, and she met his eyes with practiced composure.
“What is your father’s name?”
“He is Baron Somerset.”
“Miss Jacqueline Somerset is the daughter of the Earl of Somerset, a man who vanished into the waves while searching for the New World. These days, she is more widely recognized as the ‘impoverished noble lady.’ It is said she fell into ruin paying off family debts and was reduced to working as a governess at the Preston estate.”
The statement was a calculated insult. Windsor’s expression turned murderous, and Evan’s hands balled into tight fists.
Jacqueline, however, didn’t flinch. She tilted her chin up with a touch of haughtiness and gave a curt nod.
“That is correct.”
To those watching, the moment was striking—it was clear that even the loss of her fortune had not stripped her of her noble dignity.
Parker let out a small sigh of feigned disappointment before pivoting.
“You are acquainted with Mr. Evan Knox, are you not?”
“He was my fiancé.”
“I see.”
Parker hummed thoughtfully, his eyes gleaming with a sharp light.
“Is your appearance here today motivated solely by your past connection to Mr. Knox?”
“I see.”
Parker stepped back, his posture relaxing. Jacqueline had prepared for a verbal assault and was momentarily caught off guard by his ease—though she let nothing show on her face.
“Lord Windsor Preston is a remarkably handsome man, even by a man’s standards. I imagine that is doubly true for a young woman?”
Jacqueline, who had been staring straight ahead, slowly shifted her gaze to Parker. He met her eyes with a pleasant, disarming smile.
Again, she felt a flicker of surprise; she had expected him to strike at her past, not her employer.
“Anyone with functioning eyesight would find Lord Preston attractive.”
A light wave of laughter moved through the gallery.
“Tell me, Miss Somerset—you are Master Benjamin’s thirteenth governess. Is the Marquess truly as difficult an employer as the rumors suggest?”
Jacqueline’s brow furrowed slightly. Evan watched her with visible anxiety, though she remained focused on Parker.
“No. Lord Preston is not the tyrant the gossip-mongers claim. Compared to other houses, he is generous with his wages and respects my professional boundaries.”
“Is that so?”
Parker’s smile widened.
“Then, Miss Somerset, would you describe Lord Preston as a good man?”
“I would.”
She stared him down defiantly. Parker responded with a casual shrug.
“A young man and a young woman living under the same roof—especially when the man is exceptionally handsome, the sort to make any woman’s heart race, and possesses a decent temperament. Is it really so shocking if the woman develops feelings for him?”
Jacqueline realized too late that she had walked right into a snare. She had anticipated questions about Evan, but she hadn’t expected him to weaponize Windsor.
Parker turned to the gallery, his voice projecting clearly.
“Miss Somerset harbors romantic feelings for Lord Preston. Consequently, her testimony cannot be considered objective.”
The room erupted in whispers. Curious, judging glances bounced between Jacqueline and Windsor.
Jacqueline tightened her fists, swallowing the surge of indignation. She had to stay level-headed; any emotional outburst would only pull the noose tighter.
Evan suddenly bolted upright.
“Your Honor, opposing counsel is presenting baseless conjecture as fact while slandering the witness!”
“Sustained. Counsel, mind your conduct.”
“My apologies, Your Honor.”
Parker shrugged, unbothered. Despite the judge’s warning, he had achieved his goal—much like Evan had done, he had successfully planted the seeds of doubt.
Now, he only needed to drive the point home. He turned back to Jacqueline with renewed confidence.
“You stated you have been at the Preston estate for seventy-nine days, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“How interesting. The twelve governesses before you all departed before their second month was up, yet you are entering your third.”
The implication was heavy, fanning the flames of suspicion. Every person in the room was now imagining the scandalous nature of Jacqueline and Windsor’s relationship.
Jacqueline kept her face a mask of indifference, though her grip on her dress tightened further. She leaned on every lesson she had learned as an ‘impoverished noble’ to hide her inner turmoil.
“I was informed the previous governesses were dismissed for cause,” she said, her voice like ice.
“And you have done nothing to warrant dismissal?”
“I have not.”
“So Lord Preston is a good man, not a difficult employer?”
“Yes.”
“Then you are the only one out of thirteen women who has a different story to tell.”
Parker offered a triumphant grin.
“That concludes my—”
“Counselor.”
Jacqueline’s voice cut through his closing. Parker turned back to her. She was watching him with the cold, detached gaze of a porcelain doll.
“Do you truly believe the only reason I am here is because of a man? That I am moved either by a former fiancé or an attractive employer?”
Her eyes flashed with a sudden, regal fire.
“Your narrow-minded view of women is your own business, but to bring it into this courtroom is an insult to your profession. I am here because I am committed to the truth. I ask that you show me the respect I am owed, Counselor.”
Her words carried the undeniable weight of her lineage. The spectators—particularly the women—found themselves moved by her poise.
Parker finally noticed the hostile glares from the gallery. His expression soured as he looked at her.
She continued, her tone now one of command.
“And you are mistaken on one other point—I, too, faced the threat of being let go. In fact, a fourteenth governess was already being interviewed.”
The room stirred again. Even the judge leaned forward, his interest piqued.
Jacqueline gave Parker a small, knowing smile. He frowned, a shadow of unease crossing his face.
“When I received word that my mother was dying and fled to Southfield, that was when I met you, Mr. Parker O’Brien.”
The courtroom went cold. Without a word from the judge, the whispering gallery fell into a stunned, deathly silence.
They hung on her every word. She pressed her advantage, watching Parker’s face turn rigid.
Jacqueline was prepared to be just as ruthless as Parker O’Brien to secure her victory.
Even if it meant dragging her own name through the mud.
“On that day, Mr. O’Brien, you suggested that if I testified on behalf of His Majesty, I would receive a magnificent reward. I told you then that my conscience was not for sale. Surely you haven’t forgotten?”
“Miss Jacqueline Somerset.”
Parker’s voice was a low, threatening hiss.
Windsor’s body went taut with tension. Evan leaned toward him, whispering, “Wait. Let her finish.”
Windsor remained coiled like a spring, his eyes burning as they fixed on Parker. His jaw was clenched so hard it trembled.
“I do not know if that offer came from the King himself or if you were acting on your own, Mr. O’Brien.”
Evan’s eyes widened. Jacqueline was brilliant—she was giving the King an escape route, allowing the Crown to blame Parker and walk away with their dignity intact.
She was far more calculating than Evan had imagined. Parker seemed to realize it, too; his mouth twitched with suppressed rage.
“Miss Somerset.”
It was a final, whispered warning.
“My mother, desperate for us to be reinstated into society, begged me to take your deal.”
Jacqueline pointedly used Parker’s name rather than the King’s. She acknowledged the royal power at play while framing the corruption as Parker’s personal scheme.
She knew the judge would likely favor the Crown; a total victory for Windsor was a narrow path. She had to leave the judge a way to rule fairly without shaming the King.
“I could not ignore my mother’s pleas, but I could not lie under oath either. Therefore, I had decided not to testify for either side—a fact you know very well, Mr. O’Brien.”
Jacqueline paused, her smile turning bitter. The image of the woman standing before them was now burned into the minds of every noble in the room.
