Page 59 of A Marriage of Convenience with a Rake
“About what?” Eleanor said softly.
“About that seamstress he fathered a child on,” Jonathan said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just that.”
Eleanor stared at him in horror. She felt her senses swim and then she stumbled backwards, the world going dark in front of her eyes, nothing making sense anymore as she fell.
Chapter 22
“That is final. I will take matters further, if you do not agree to this.”
Sebastian felt his heart race, rage and frustration making his blood rush through his veins. He had been arguing with Judge Westgate for the last ten minutes, and he felt as though he was not making the slightest indent on the man’s brick-like stubbornness.
“And how, pray? You might be an earl, my lord, but I represent the law of this land.” The judge spoke calmly.
Sebastian took a breath. “And even you know that the law of this land makes no mention of money being lost in bad investments. Perhaps Montague is foolish, but he is not a liar.”
The judge sighed. “This case is old,” he said slowly. “It was aired over a month ago. I have no need to discuss it again.”
“Was the fellow tried?” Sebastian demanded.
“Well, no,” the judge admitted wearily. “He was meant to be, but he evaded the law. So, what must I do? I have no choice but to condemn him to prison.”
“Oh, for...” Sebastian ran a hand through his hair. It was morning, around eleven o’ clock. He had arrived in London at six o’ clock in the morning, and managed to find an inn where he could still accommodate himself and his horse. He had tried to sleep for two hours, then eaten a late breakfast of cold bread and jam, and ridden straight to the courthouse, where he’d been kept waiting to see the judge for almost an hour. He stood in front of the fellow’s desk and tried to rein in his temper.
“I am aware that Montague might not have stolen,” the judge continued. “But he still ran from the trial. That is proof enough of guilt, one could say.”
“One could,” Sebastian argued wearily. “But must one? Could you not take another view? The fellow is innocent. I believe there is not sufficient evidence to decide in either direction, however. So, might you not acquit him? You have no evidence with which you could sentence him anyway.”
The judge sighed. He ran a weary hand down his face and peered at Sebastian.
“You make a wearisome argument, young Glenfield,” he said with another sigh. “I have not the evidence, no. But his running proves his guilt.”
“How so?” Sebastian demanded. He knew that he was being tiresome, and he wished he did not have to be. But every time he thought he was failing to convince the judge, he recalled Eleanor, weeping, saying that the children would go to the workhouse and that she would give anything to avoid that.
The judge looked at him. “You are no fool, Glenfield. You can see that. I know you can.”
Sebastian drew a breath. “I will pay for a solicitor,” he began. “I will pay my own solicitor to look into the dealings with this shipping organization Montague claims to have invested in. If it can be proved that he did so, would you agree to drop the charges?” He hadn’t intended to involve his own solicitor, and the fees would be considerable—the fellow was one of the most expensive lawyers in the country. But he was prepared to stop at almost nothing to acquit Mr. Montague. He promised Eleanor.
The judge took a deep breath. “You are not going to give up,” he stated.
“No,” Sebastian agreed.
The two of them gazed at each other.
Sebastian held the judge’s gaze. He was much older than Sebastian, around Papa’s age. His skin was gray, his eyes set in deep wrinkles. His mouth was hard, but the overall impression he made was not of sternness but tiredness. He looked like hespent every day fighting for justice in a society where it very rarely existed—which, Sebastian reflected, was probably exactly what he did do. He took a deep breath.
“Please,” he said softly. “Help this man.”
The judge held his stare. He was thinking, Sebastian could see the way his eyes, brown and intelligent, darted about. He continued.
“I know your father, young man,” he said slowly. “He is a sensible man. Not a hotheaded one. And he would not plead a man’s case if he did not believe in his innocence.”
Sebastian held his breath.
“Your father must believe that this fellow is innocent. I will agree to one thing.” Sebastian drew a breath, and the judge lifted a hand. “I will agree to confer with my learned colleague, to find out if it would be possible for a fine to be paid in lieu of Montague being jailed.”
“You would?” Sebastian asked. His heart soared. He had not even considered a fine. He felt himself smile, but the judge held up a hand.
“If my learned colleague has gone early to luncheon, we might have to discuss the matter tomorrow.”
