“Proclivities, Counselor?” the chancellor interrupted, his voice dripping sarcasm. “For bedding women? If that were the sole indicator of unreliable ne’er-do-wells, then they are populatingParliamentin great numbers as well.”
“But, Your Honor,” the fellow said, “the man will be shaping the lives of these young boys.”
“Two of whom are nearly grown, Counselor. Before you continue elaborating on the earl’s peccadillos as a young man, I should like to know what other kind of evidence you have to produce. How responsible is he as a landowner? Has he ever broken the law? Is he in debt?”
The man began flipping through papers. “Um … Your Honor … I have not … that is, we have not had time to suitably investigate the matter of …” He seized on something. “Thereisa question about the true nature of his ‘engagement’ to Miss Bernard.”
Heath growled something to Mr. Pitney, who leapt to his feet. “I would like to know what our learned colleague is insinuating, Your Honor.”
“So would I,” the chancellor said dryly.
Mr. Yates’s lawyer stiffened. “That perhaps the lady is merely his mistress, whom he is trying to pass off as his fiancée. SheisFrench, you know.”
Even as heat rose in Giselle’s cheeks, Heath jumped to his feet, as if to defend her, but Mr. Pitney caught him and hissed something in his ear that made him sink slowly into his chair.
“What are they saying?” her mother whispered beside her.
“You do not want to know, Maman,” she whispered back.
“And what evidence do you have ofthat, Counselor?” the chancellor asked Mr. Yates’s lawyer.
“I am merely pointing out—”
“You are speculating based on the fact that the woman is French, in other words,” the chancellor said. “So, let us hear from one of your own witnesses.” He crooked a finger at the détenu who had waved at Giselle earlier. “Come up here, Mrs.—”
“Lane, Your Honor.” Looking a bit wary, she walked up to the witness box and was sworn in.
“Mrs. Lane,” the chancellor said, “do you know this woman, Mademoiselle Bernard?”
“Yes, Your Honor, she worked at the lodging house where his lordship lived in Verdun.”
“To your knowledge, were she and his lordship involved in an illicit affair?”
“Not that I ever saw, Your Honor. She was kept too busy working for the landlady, Mrs. Dubois. Besides, she was Mrs. Dubois’s cousin and a respectable lady. I never saw her with any man except that old tutor who taught her English.”
The chancellor stared Mr. Yates’s lawyer down. “I should point out, Counselor, that Mrs. Lane is your own witness, and even she vouches for the character of Mademoiselle Bernard.”
He told Mrs. Lane to step down, and she returned to the group of other women.
“Now, Counselor,” the chancellor continued, “unless you have actual evidence of Miss Bernard being his lordship’s mistress, I suggest you stick to the things you have actual evidence for. Which, right now, doesn’t seem to be much.”
It dawned on Giselle that although there had been rumors of Heath’s affair with Mrs. Lane, that had been in his early years at Verdun. Giselle looked more closely at the other women. It was not as many as she’d have expected. And some were far older than she, which she assumed was because they had only been friendly with Heath in his youth.
She was not the only one to notice. Mr. Pitney, during his cross-examination, asked, “Your Honor, could you have the ladies statetheir ages and exactly when they were … er … intimate with his lordship?”
As they began to do so, it became apparent that four had only been involved with Heath before he had gone to France and then only briefly. She did some calculations in her head and realized he had only been sixteen then. She shook her head. No wonder his parents had despaired of him. He had begun sowing his wild oats young.
The two détenu women had been married, although both were widowed now. When they gave the dates oftheirinvolvement, it was around the same time when he had first kissedher.She remembered only too well how even then he had been quite handsome, flirtatious, witty, clever …
Lord, it was no wonder he had drawn so many women to him. He had been a strapping stallion. Still was, if she were honest, but with a greater measure of restraint.
Except when it came to her.
I knew I’d never be able to keep my hands off you the rest of the night if I got the chance to hold you in my arms for the space of one … damned … dance!
A sigh escaped her. The man did have a way with words. Not to mention, a way with kisses. And caresses. Perhaps Maman was right—hewasadébauché.
Then again, he’d had many chances to whisk her away somewhere private and take her innocence, and he had not done so. He reallyhadbeen trying hard not to “debauch” her. That showed him to have more character than Mr. Yates seemed to think.