Page 87
Story: Duke of Gluttony
"I see. And you were there, supervising these visits?"
"No. I was hired after His Grace returned. But the staff informed me that the baron spent more time wandering the house than attending to his young relations." Ms. Norwood's needle flashed in the sunlight as she resumed her stitching. "When I arrived, the visits continued for a time. Always the same pattern—he would bring sweets or toys for the girls, stay barely long enough to see them delighted, then excuse himself to 'reminisce' in various rooms of the house."
"How considerate of him to maintain a relationship with his young cousins," Abigail said, trying to keep the bitterness from her voice.
"Indeed. Though his consideration did not extend to replacing items that mysteriously disappeared after his visits. Small things—a silver snuffbox, a miniature portrait, decorative items that might not be missed immediately."
"You believe he was stealing from the house?"
"I cannot prove it," Ms. Norwood said carefully. "But when I mentioned my concerns to His Grace in a letter, he immediately forbade any further visits from the baron."
Abigail frowned. "That must have upset the girls."
"They were disappointed, certainly. They'd grown fond of him—or rather, of the attention and gifts he provided." Ms. Norwood set her work aside. "Which brings me to the incident Hollan's solicitor is particularly interested in."
"Go on." Abigail's stomach tightened with foreboding.
"About a month after His Grace's prohibition, Baron Hollan appeared at Eyron Park unannounced. I instructed the footmen to turn him away." Ms. Norwood paused, her expression troubled. "Unfortunately, Heather had been watching from the landing. When she saw who it was, she ran down and threw herself at the baron, begging him to stay."
"The poor child," Abigail murmured.
"When the footmen continued to insist he leave, she became hysterical. She cried that she wanted to go live with Cousin Freddy." Ms. Norwood met Abigail's gaze directly. "That is what the baron's solicitor wishes me to recount."
Abigail's hands went cold. Heather's words—a child's grief-stricken outburst—twisted into evidence against Graham. But it wasn’t the impact on the hearing that made her heart twist.
Her husband would hear the words and think Heather meant them. She could already see the look he’d wear—like he’d failed them all. But what child didn’t cry for what was shiny and fleeting? He’d given them something better—constancy, quiet safety, a place to belong.
Even if he didn’t quite believe it himself.
If Hollan’s lawyer wielded it well, that single moment of heartbreak could become the cornerstone of his entire case.
"I see," she said, her voice tight.
"I must be truthful in court, Your Grace," Ms. Norwood said. "Even though I fear my testimony will not cast you and His Grace in the most favorable light."
"Of course you must tell the truth." Abigail stabbed her needle through the fabric with more force than necessary. "I would expect nothing less."
"If it offers any consolation, I have also been summoned by Mr. Nedley. And I intend to be equally forthright about the remarkable transformation I've witnessed in the girls since becoming part of your family." Ms. Norwood picked up her mending again. "Mary Ann smiles now—genuine smiles, not the polite mask she wore for so long. And Heather... well, the child practically vibrates with happiness when you or His Grace enter a room."
Warmth bloomed in Abigail's chest, a small comfort against the chill of anxiety. "Thank you. When His Grace returns," she said, securing her final stitch, "we'll share this information with him. We will not be ambushed tomorrow."
Ms. Norwood studied her with approval. "Indeed not, Your Grace. Indeed not."
Abigail picked up another pair of stockings—torn, stained with mud despite a thorough washing. She set her stitches and pulled the fabric closed, wishing the messes people made were as easily mended.
The clock struck five. No sign of Graham. Abigail forced her attention back to her needlework, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in her stomach.
Where are you, Graham?
She wanted to feel his presence in the house—the creak of his chair, the low rasp of his voice. Instead there was only silence, and the echo of the promises they’d made, trembling like a thread pulled too tight.
CHAPTER 23
Graham sat rigidly upright, his hands clasped in his lap to hide their tremor. Three o'clock had struck moments before Magistrate Gorse emerged from his chambers like a black beetle scuttling from beneath a stone.
The courtroom at Bow Street bore no resemblance to the grand chambers of Chancery where tomorrow's hearing would unfold. Here, justice wore a shabby coat—scuffed wooden benches, grimy windows that filtered the afternoon light into something jaundiced and mean. The air hung thick with the accumulated misery of a thousand petty criminals and desperate souls.
"Dr. Graham Redchester, Duke of Eyron," Gorse intoned without inflection, settling behind his bench with the weary air of a man who had processed human wreckage for decades. "You stand accused of arson in the matter of the Riverford Warehouse fire."
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87 (Reading here)
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114