Page 95 of The Truth About Dukes
“And isn’t it true,” Weatherby went on, “that you eschew strong spirits, abhor cheroots, and seldom eat sweets?”
“Quite true. I limit my tea and avoid coffee too. Those measures appear to reduce the frequency of my seizures, and my duchess cannot abide the stink of cheroots.”
His duchess nodded graciously at the jury.
And at that precise moment, the vague dread swimming around in Robert’s mind coalesced into certainty. He made it down the steps from the witness box and halfway to the counsel table before his knees gave out, and he commenced shaking on the hard, cold floor.
The moment Rothhaven’s knees buckled, Constance bolted from the gallery, weaving past gawkers, bailiffs, and Quinn’s outstretched hand.
“There, you see!” Weatherby said, pointing at Rothhaven on the floor as the last of the convulsions ceased. “The disease lays the poor man low before our very eyes. The infirmity in all its ruthless horror on display before this august commission and the good gentlemen of the jury. Can Rothhaven speak? Can he even sit up? Ask him who graces the throne of England now, and—”
Constance marched past Weatherby and crouched beside Rothhaven. “What I see in all its horrid ruthlessness is a greedy, swinish lawyer. You long to take up where Soames left off, reaping an enormous profit while cloaking yourself in the virtue of false compassion. You are a parasite and a disgrace.”
Weatherby looked gratifyingly startled by those passing observations. The jury looked positively delighted.
Quinn joined Constance at Rothhaven’s side, as did Nathaniel.
“Rothhaven,” she said, “we’ll help you to your seat.”
Rothhaven met her gaze, and though she could read little in his expression, he did not seem afraid.
“Ready?” Constance asked, as Quinn and Nathaniel each took an arm.
Rothhaven nodded, and they soon had him in the chair next to Sir Leviticus.
“Might we have a brief recess?” Sir Leviticus asked. “I’m sure His Grace will be prepared to resume his testimony shortly.”
“Very well,” Drossman said. “A short recess. Mr. Weatherby, have you any other witnesses to call?”
“I do not, sir. A few more questions for His Grace—ifhe can answer them—and I will rest my case.”
The three members of the panel left the hall, and the hum and buzz in the gallery rose to a roar. Weatherby and Philpot began a whispered conversation on their side of the room, and Constance took the seat beside her husband.
“Shall we offer him some water?” Dr. Warner had inserted himself into the small group around Sir Leviticus’s counsel table.
“Are you daft?” Constance retorted. “For His Grace to try to consume food or drink this soon after a seizure would be most unwise. Be off with you and take your silly little black bag with you.”
Warner had the good sense to simply bow and withdraw.
“Fierce,” Rothhaven said, his hand landing clumsily on Constance’s arm. “My duchess.”
“You surprised me with that announcement, Rothhaven.” They’d agreed to keep the news of their nuptials private until after the competency hearing, barring some exigent circumstance. “I’m glad you acknowledged me as your duchess. Weatherby’s shock was delicious.”
“And what about my shock?” Quinn growled.
“And mine?” Nathaniel added. “Althea suspected. I laughed at her speculations.”
Jane and Althea soon joined the conversation, while Constance sat beside Rothhaven, his cool hand in hers.
“Sir Leviticus,” Constance said, “might you call me as a witness rather than have Rothhaven return immediately to the witness box? The more time His Grace has to recover, the better.”
“A fine notion,” Sir Leviticus said, “but His Grace is still Weatherby’s witness. Weatherby gets another go at him when the recess is over.”
“Then you must delay the inevitable with an eloquent and protracted argument about some legal inanity.”
Much of the gallery remained milling about, unwilling to give up their seats. Clerks, bailiffs, and Mansion House staff conversed in small groups, and Constance longed for a quiet room where Rothhaven might gather his composure.
“I can offer a dilatory motion or two,” Sir Leviticus said, “but we run the risk of antagonizing the commissioners and the jury. Then too, if I admit that His Grace cannot answer simple questions now, I’ve all but made Weatherby’s case for him.”
