Page 25 of Touched By a Traitor
Andrew coughed to hide his chuckle.
Wilson’s jaw ticked, his face reddening like a man on the verge of apoplexy. “Do not think you can trap me with amateur theatrics before this assembly. I have never accepted you as a barrister and never will. I suggest you vacate my property before you’re thrown out.”
“How fascinating,” Charlotte replied with mock scholarly interest, her voice pitched to carry to every corner of the hall. “I had no idea personal acceptance was required for legal qualifications. Shall I inform the Court that you’ve appointed yourself the sole arbiter of professional standing? I’m certain they’ll be enlightened by your innovation.”
Andrew’s chest swelled with pride at her brilliant riposte, even as his jaw clenched with the effort of remaining silent. The assembled crowd watched in rapt attention, some nodding at Charlotte’s logic, others looking scandalized.
“The lady speaks the truth, Wilson. I suppose you’ll be throwing me out too for training her,” a familiar voice rang from the back of the hall.
Andrew’s stomach tightened as the Duke of Chatham appeared, moving to stand beside Charlotte, his presence immediately shifting the dynamic in the room. Andrew felt something shift in his chest—an uncomfortable recognition. Here was a man who wielded his privilege like a shield on her behalf. Perhaps she deserved someone who didn’t have to weigh her worth against his own interests. Someone who could stand beside her with real authority—the protection of his birth.
Wilson’s face contorted as he found himself facing not just Charlotte, but Chatham’s formidable influence. “Your Grace, this is a matter of institutional integrity—”
“Indeed it is,” the duke interrupted smoothly. “And Miss Morton’s presence here speaks to the very integrity you claim to defend. Unless you’re suggesting the Inns of Court lack the authority to determine membership?”
The confrontation hung in the air like smoke from a fired pistol, with Wilson’s face cycling through shades of red as he struggled to respond without directly challenging Chatham’s authority. Eventually, he dismissed the assembly with terse formality, though his glittering eyes promised this was far from over. Andrew watched Charlotte and the duke exit together, their quiet conversation and shared purpose a stark reminder of Chatham’s advantage.
The evening’s formal ceremonies, however, were far from over. Despite wanting to flee the Inner Temple entirely, Andrew settled into his seat at the round table for the benchers’ meeting, Cooper taking his place behind him. This meeting was tedious but necessary—essential for garnering support and protecting his business interests.
“Carlisle.” Lord Wilson’s voice cut through the conversation as he claimed the seat beside Andrew.
“Wilson.”
“I think you know what I want to discuss.” Wilson fixed him with a pointed look.
Andrew’s brow furrowed. “Your investment concerns?”
“Your association with Morton.”
Andrew paused, surprised by the directness. “Ah, is that what’s keeping you awake at nights? I’m flattered by your concern for my social calendar.”
“She represents dangerous precedent. One female lawyer today, ten tomorrow. Your association lends her credibility.” Wilson leaned forward. “Do not engage her.”
Andrew’s jaw tightened at the man’s audacity but drawled casually, “Good heavens, Wilson. Ten female lawyers? However shall we cope? Can we afford their meager salaries?”
Wilson continued as if Andrew hadn’t spoken. “Your sister is betrothed. Do you want her associating with someone of questionable reputation?” Wilson’s eyes gleamed with malice. “Morton received the highest marks in her class—ahead of judges’ sons, dukes’ heirs. One wonders how such achievements were… earned.”
The implication hung in the air like poison. Andrew’s hands clenched beneath the table, but he forced a laugh. “My dear Wilson, are you suggesting that Cambridge’s finest minds were so easily… distracted? How embarrassing for them. Though I suppose it does explain why so many of our colleagues struggle with basic logic.” He turned to look intently into Wilson’s eyes. “You appear to be taking my association with Miss Morton more seriously than is warranted. Is there something I should know?”
Wilson’s smile faltered slightly. “Based on your reputation, you’re likely privy to intelligence before I am.”
Andrew’s gaze sharpened as realization dawned. “You’ve already spoken to my shareholders.” His voice carried mock surprise. “How industrious of you. Tell me, did you use yourcharming personality to win them over, or did you simply bore them into submission?”
Wilson cleared his throat, eyes darting away.
Wilson wasn’t just attacking Charlotte—he was positioning himself to take control of Andrew’s company, using her as a weapon against him.
“Only months after investing in my company,” Andrew mused, his voice deceptively mild. “I wonder what motivated such… urgent concern. Perhaps you’ve developed a sudden passion for corporate governance? How admirably civic-minded.”
Andrew forced himself to laugh, schooling his features into nonchalance. “On a more pleasant note,” he began, “I saw Lady Lidia at Hyde Park yesterday. Charming girl—though I do hope she’s inherited more of her mother’s wit than her father’s… strategic thinking.”
The mention of his daughter made Wilson preen with paternal pride. Perhaps there was a way to turn Wilson’s ambition against him—a strategic marriage alliance to neutralize the threat.
“She is lovely, both inside and out,” Wilson said. “Properly raised, devoted to convention. Her sights are set on someone of elevated station.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Speaking of which, Carlisle, you ought to be considering marriage yourself.”
Andrew inclined his head with a wry smile. “That seems to be the prevailing opinion.”
“Look no further, Carlisle. My daughter would be perfect for you.”
