Page 68 of Speculations in Sin

Mr. Hubbard hung my coat on an elaborately carved coatrack, then led me up one flight of stairs to a double-doored chamber in the front of the house. The ceiling was high in this hall, the light from a many-paned window flooding it.

Mr. Hubbard opened one of the doors and ushered me into a grand chamber containing three ladies and a gentleman. The ladies I knew very well, but the gentleman was a stranger.

“Mrs. Holloway,” Mr. Hubbard intoned, then withdrew, closing the door with barely a breath of sound.

I stood awkwardly, wishing now I’d changed to my second-best frock, at least. I must make a sorry picture, a young woman with windblown hair and a gray work frock splashed with flour and grease.

Miss Townsend was her usual elegant self in her tasteful gown. Behind her, on a window seat, Lady Roberta lounged in a man’s suit with neatly tied cravat and polished boots. Her attire did not seem to surprise the only gentleman in our midst.

Lady Cynthia rose from a sofa at the same time the gentleman climbed to his feet from a Morris chair. He was very tall, his dark suit emphasizing a slimness that was proportional to his height. He was not at all awkward or gangly, but well put together.

He looked upon me politely, neither mocking me for my appearance nor treating me deferentially. I was simply a person standing in the middle of a nicely furnished drawing room.

“Mrs. Holloway, thank you for coming,” Miss Townsend began.

Cynthia broke in. “This is Shepherd,” she said, waving anarm at the man. “Sir Rupert as he’s called. He very much wanted to meet you.”

Sir Rupert Shepherd. The barrister Miss Townsend had talked into representing Sam, who Daniel had termed heavy artillery.

For some reason, I wanted to curtsy, but I restrained myself. “How do you do, sir?” I said politely.

“Very well.” Shepherd’s voice filled the room with a pleasant rumble. “I have come to ask you many questions about Samuel Millburn. If you sit comfortably while I interrogate you, you’ll be able to withstand it better, I think.”

He gestured to a wing chair that held several cushions and had an ottoman drawn up to it. If I sat in that, I’d either fall asleep with all the work I’d already done today or become so buried in it the three ladies would have to pull me out again.

I crossed to a balloon-backed chair with beautiful carving, a simple piece but as graceful as Miss Townsend herself. “This will do.”

Shepherd’s brows went up, but he gazed at me with a modicum more respect.

Bobby, who’d also risen while I’d been introduced to Sir Rupert, grinned at me and resumed her negligent pose on the window seat. Sir Rupert must already know her, as he was not shocked at either her choice of attire or her masculine-like mannerisms.

Cynthia, who wore a gown similar to Miss Townsend’s, sat down again, as did Miss Townsend. Sir Rupert, realizing he was the only one standing, plopped onto the edge of the sofa. He rested his long arms on his knees and leaned to me.

The man had very dark hair and very blue eyes. He wasn’t all that handsome, having quite a long face and nose, a round chin, and a wide mouth. However, it took some time to realizethat. He was arresting, I would say, commanding every eye to linger upon him.

His ability to draw a gaze, along with his rumbling voice, made me understand Daniel’s assessment of him. A person would want to listen to whatever he had to say.

“Shouldn’t the solicitor be here?” I asked before Sir Rupert could begin. “I thought that was how these things were done.”

Sir Rupert waved a wide hand. “If I were speaking to witnesses I wanted to call or to the accused himself, yes. But this is an informal conversation, a chat among friends. I like to do things informally whenever I can.”

He might term it informal, but his rich baritone gave even a friendly chat gravitas. I nodded, as though I understood.

“What do you wish to know?” I asked.

“Everything.” Sir Rupert made another sweeping gesture. “All you know about Mr. Millburn’s childhood, his leap from boy of the streets to respectable man of the City, to meeting his wife, how loving he is as a father, his kindness in looking after a friend’s child, his diligence in his job. Anything that will make the gentlemen of the jury bring out their hankies and sob heavily that such a man was falsely accused by enemies trying to bring him down.”

By “a friend’s child,” he meant Grace. I wondered if Sam had mentioned my name in connection with her or preserved my privacy on that matter. Miss Townsend, Bobby, and Cynthia clearly hadn’t enlightened him.

“I met Sam when he was courting Joanna,” I said. “I don’t know what I can tell you about him before that.”

“It is a good place to start. How did they meet? Tell me about their courtship, as much as you can.”

“Should you not speak to Joanna?” I asked dubiously. “She will obviously know Sam much better than I do.”

Sir Rupert shook his head. “Begging your pardon, Mrs. Holloway, but I won’t be calling Mrs. Millburn as a witness. Wives are notoriously unreliable in the witness box. Either they are too eager to prove their husband’s innocence, or they use it as a chance for vengeance on a hated or cruel husband. Either way, they are prone to lie, even under a Bible oath. You, outside their happy home, will have a more objective view of Mr. Millburn. I need to know everything about him, so I can paint a picture of him that will better his chances of being acquitted.”

“I see.” I wasn’t quite certain I agreed with all Sir Rupert said, but I admitted he had much more experience in criminal trials than I did. “They met at Sir John Soane’s Museum. At Lincoln’s Inn Fields.”

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