I ground my teeth together until my jaw ached. Every single human in this feckin’ room looked down their noses at the grogoch as if he were nothing more than an inconvenience.
“State your name for the record,” O’Meara clipped.
“Charlie O’Shea,” the grogoch replied.
“You are charged with theft of a woman’s purse. How do you plead?”
“Not guilty, sir. A kind woman gave me that purse—”
The women in the room gasped and held their hands over their mouths as they whispered to one another. The men scowled, exchanging frowns and shaking their heads in disbelief.
None of them would’ve been able to taste the truth in those words.
Whatever about the witch; she’d been foolish enough to use magic in plain sight. But this man hadn’t done what they’d accused him of. I’d stake my life on it.
O’Meara banged his fist against the desk. “I would like to call the first witness, my wife, Lady Eithne O’Meara.”
The doors opened, and Eithne swept in wearing a mauve day gown with scalloped edges. There was no way she knew who I was, yet my stomach sank, and I sent a little extra magic into my glamour.
Tight curls swung back and forth at her temples in time with the clicking of her heels against the wooden floorboards. She went to a chair to the right of the desk, giving her husband a demure smile.
“Lady Eithne,” her husband began, “if you could please recount the harrowing events of this man’s crime.”
Alleged crime, you gobshite.Alleged.
“Last week, I was in town minding my own business, and that man”—Eithne’s voice wobbled, and false tears filled her eyes as she pointed a manicured nail at Charlie—“demanded I give him my purse. I was so afraid of what he might do to me that I handed it over.”
What he might do to her? The poor man reached her shoulder, his back was so hunched he could barely stand, and he had one feckin’ leg. What did she honestly thinkhewould do toher?
“Are there any other witnesses who can corroborate this story?” Lord O’Meara asked.
Two men stood from their seats at my back. I’d seen them before. They worked for the magistrate.Wasn’t that feckin’ handy?
“We heard Lady Eithne’s screams and came as quickly as we could,” the tallest one lied, squeezing a flat cap between his hands. “Saw the purse in the bastard’s bucket where he sat on the church steps.”
If Charlie had stolen the purse, why would he take it, sit on a step, and put it in a feckin’ bucket? Was I honestly the only person in here with a brain?
I cleared my throat loudly enough for the entire room to hear before easing to my feet. “If I may?”
Lord O’Meara’s narrowed gaze swung toward me. “And who might you be?”
“Sir William Worthington.”Your worst feckin’ nightmare.
Although Lord O’Meara raised his bushy white eyebrows, he nodded as if he’d known who I was all along. “Oh, yes, yes. Sir William. My apologies. Go on.”
“I find it hard to believe that after—” I looked pointedly at Eithne. “I’m sorry, I’ve already forgotten your name.”
“Lady Eithne.”
“Right, right. Lady Edwina. As I was saying, I find it hard to believe that a villain who had stolen someone’s purse would then put said purse in a bucket and proceed to sit on the steps of a building in the center of the town.”
“It’s Eithne. And I . . . I wounded him,” Eithne claimed. “He tried to accost me, but I found the strength somewhere deep inside and knocked him down. He hurt himself and wasn’t able to run.”
“He hardly looks able to run whether he’s been knocked down or not,” I said, gesturing to Charlie’s single leg.
Charlie gave me a hesitant smile.
Eithne’s face burned red as the crowd began to murmur.