In the Barrister's Chambers (20 page)

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Authors: Tina Gabrielle

BOOK: In the Barrister's Chambers
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Evelyn held her raw emotions in check. She should be the one to care for Randolph, to see him through his time of need, not Simon.
“I'll be in touch soon,” Jack said.
Jack took Evelyn's arm and escorted her down the stairs. He reached to open the door when she realized she had forgotten her reticule.
“I left my reticule in Randolph's room. I'll be a moment.” She grasped her skirts and turned toward the stairs.
“Wait. I'll go with you,” Jack said.
They made their way back up the stairs and down the hall when raised voices drew them to a halt.
Simon and Randolph were arguing.
Evelyn looked at Jack in surprise, but he held his finger over his lips and silenced her.
“He asked about the diary,”
Randolph said.
“What did you tell him?”
Simon asked.
“That I had no idea what he was talking about.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Bess never wanted the existence of her diary known. I'm the only one she confided in, the only one she could trust. I never betrayed her in life, and I won't betray her in death.”
“Where is the diary now?”
Simon asked.
“I don't know.”
Evelyn looked at Jack. A swift shadow of fury swept across his face. Lips thinned with anger, eyes narrowed, he opened the door with such force it slammed against the wall. Chips of plaster flew across the room.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Evelyn rushed after Jack, and grasped his sleeve. “Wait, Jack—”
He brushed her aside and glared at Randolph. “You denied knowledge of any diary. You lied. I want answers. Now.”
Randolph's eyes widened. “I swore to Bess that I would never tell a soul.”
“I'm not any soul. I'm your barrister. The only person between you and Bow Street at the moment.”
“You must understand.”
“Where is it now?”
“I don't know. I've never seen it.”
“You're lying.”
“I'm not. I swear it!”
“Your swears mean nothing to me. You lied to me once about the existence of the diary. Let me tell you this: I have one rule and that is my clients must be truthful to me, no matter how damning the truth. You broke that rule. I'll no longer represent you. You should find another barrister and soon.” Jack's voice was quiet, yet held an undertone of cold contempt.
Randolph sat stunned. Simon didn't move from the corner.
Jack strode from the room. “Let's go, Evie.”
She snatched up her reticule and rushed to follow. He was down the stairs and holding the door open by the time she caught up with him.
“You can't be serious.” She was out of breath, trying to keep her fragile control.
“Get in the carriage.”
“Please don't do this.”
“
I
didn't do anything. Randolph did.”
Jack turned his back, strode from the town house, and proceeded to his carriage. His driver straightened to attention as his master approached. Jack held the door open, and she had no choice but to follow and step inside the carriage.
She waited for the door to close behind him and the carriage to start forward before whirling on him.
“Randolph did not murder Bess Whitfield. He's innocent and not capable of taking a human life. Surely you must know this by now.”
“I know no such thing. He's lied once, and quite convincingly. You must face the possibility that he's capable of lying about the actress's murder and that he is guilty.”
“I'm not a fool, Jack. As the daughter of a former criminal barrister, I know there are those capable of intentionally taking human life and skilled at lying to cover their deeds. But Randolph is not one of those people. I can't explain it other than to say I feel it to be true in my gut. He's innocent, I tell you. He may have lied about the existence of the diary, but that is entirely different from lying about overpowering and butchering a helpless woman.”
“Then why would he lie about the diary? If he's truly innocent, wouldn't he want the diary found? The name of the killer may be written on the pages.”
“He explained that his cousin never wanted the diary known, and he swore to her that he wouldn't speak of it.”
Jack gave her a look that suggested she was acting as naïvely as the twelve-year-old girl she had been when they first met.
“Evie, it's one thing for a man to swear to keep a secret to a living woman, and quite another for him to uphold the vow after the woman has died and all that may be keeping his neck out of the hangman's noose is the truth.”
“It may not make sense to you, but Randolph is a man of honor, and that is exactly something he would do.”
Again, that look of disbelief crossed his face.
“Nothing I say will convince you he's innocent?”
He sat forward, his eyes green chips of stone. “I don't care about his ‘innocence.' I have represented guilty men in the past and have ensured that they get a fair trial. What I cannot tolerate is a client lying to me. If I'm to assist him, I insist on the truth.”
“You are abandoning him. He'll be tried and executed without you by his side.”
“That's no longer my concern.”
The coldness of his words shocked her. A sudden fury enveloped every fiber of her body. “You want a reason to abandon him.”
“What?”
“You want Randolph out of the way because of our illicit affair. You said it yourself when we were in my father's kitchen. You said it would be difficult for you to represent Randolph when you are distracted by me. You went so far as to strongly suggest Randolph be represented by another barrister. I'm a distraction because of our . . . our lovemaking, and you were looking for an excuse to be rid of Randolph!”
He stilled. “Do you truly believe that?”
Her thoughts were jagged and painful. “I don't know what to believe anymore, Jack. I tried to confess my indiscretion to Randolph tonight. I would not have mentioned your name, but I would have admitted to the affair and that I had breached his trust.”
“Why would you do that?”
Her misery was like a steel weight. “Because I cannot live with myself anymore. Because my heart is heavy and my conscience is screaming out for redemption. But when I saw Randolph lying in bed, so desperate, so needful of me, I couldn't bring myself to wound him more.” She held her tears in check, her eyes imploring. “Don't you see? If Randolph is convicted and punished because of my behavior, I could not survive such guilt.”
He touched her hand. “You're right, Evie.”
“I am?”
“I was harsh, too quick to react. I'll continue to aid him, but henceforth, he must be honest with me.”
“Yes, yes! I'll speak with him. Thank you, Jack.”
She threw herself in his arms and kissed him on the cheek. When she went to move back, his arms stiffened around her, and he held her against him.
“Perhaps your insight is correct, Evie. Subconsciously I may have been looking for a way to walk away from Randolph's case. I find myself more and more captivated, wanting to touch you, wanting to make love to you again.”
She gasped and pulled back. Despite everything, her emotions were as volatile as a volcano, and her pulse throbbed at his evocative words.
“I'm not going to marry Randolph. I told him tonight, but he was drugged, and I fear he refused to hear. I must tell him again the next time I see him.”
“I know.”
And then he swept her from her seat, settled her on his lap, and kissed her.
Chapter 32
Jack couldn't have stopped himself from kissing her. Her simmering emotions, her crippling guilt, had pierced his defensive armor. At the sight of her tears, invisible bands had squeezed his chest.
Evie,
his
Evie, was suffering. He wanted nothing more than to ease her pain and for Randolph and his burdensome troubles never to bother her again.
Selfish bastard. You want to touch her too. To bury yourself so deeply within her that she will never think of another man.
His heart had hammered at her admission. Her plans had changed, and she no longer intended to marry Randolph. She had finally realized that Randolph Sheldon would not make her the perfect husband.
But what did that mean?
For years Jack had told himself he was not the marrying kind. Hadn't he always wanted to focus on his career? A wife and family would undoubtedly take precious time away from his legal practice. And Evelyn was an earl's daughter. She should marry a titled member of the nobility. She could marry a duke—be a duchess.
Good Lord, what could a barrister offer in comparison to a duke?
But then Evelyn squirmed in his lap and desire ran through him with the vigor of a shot. None of his misgivings mattered, only the overwhelming need to possess and claim the woman in his arms. He was helpless against her allure, and he had to have a taste of her.
Just a taste.
His mouth covered hers. Whisper soft, his lips brushed back and forth while he caressed her cheek. Their time was limited, and he feared she would push him away, but she did not. Her arms wound around him instead, and she leaned close, her full breasts pressed against his chest.
He groaned. Tearing his mouth from hers, he reached up and pulled the pins from her hair. The heavy mass fell down onto her shoulders. Such golden, shimmering hair. Silken strands slipped through his fingers. He looked into her eyes, their color changing from blue to deep azure with desire. The knowledge that she wanted him thrilled him to his core.
He kissed the corner of her mouth, then licked a path down the slender curve of her neck to her throat and felt the wildly beating pulse beneath his tongue.
She moaned, and grasped fistfuls of his hair and pulled his mouth to hers. She kissed him back as if all her fears and pent-up longings melted into the kiss. He sucked on her lower lip, and she rubbed her bum cheeks against his arousal.
His control snapped. He kissed her, hungrily, greedily. His hands went to the fastenings on the back of her gown, and he had her breasts free and in his hands. His lips brushed her nipples, the rosy peaks growing to pebble hardness. He was like a man starved. With each stroke of his tongue, her cries of pleasure drove him on, and he didn't think he had ever been as painfully aroused. The interior of the coach grew hot and steamy, and sweat beaded on his brow.
“Evie, love, I need you.”
“I know, Jack. Yesss.”
He delved beneath her skirts and ran his hand up her slender calves and found the V of her drawers. His fingers grazed her heat and her incredible wetness. She cried out and clutched his shoulders.
Madness overtook him.
“Sweet Jesus, Evie. I need you now.”
Pushing her skirts to her waist, they both struggled to remove her drawers in the cramped space of the carriage. He bumped an elbow, she a knee, and finally she was free of her drawers. He threw them on the opposite bench. He made quick work of his jacket and cravat, but it was Evelyn who reached for his shirt buttons.
“Let me.”
He hissed as her fingers touched his heated flesh and her hair teased his nipples. The shirt gaped open, but neither of them bothered to remove it in their haste. Instead, she reached for the button of his trousers and freed his arousal.
She touched him then. Tentatively at first, then more fully, encircling him from base to head. Her eyes were large pools of appeal.
“Evie, I don't know how much I can stand.”
“We cannot fully disrobe.”
“We don't need to, love.”
He moved her hand, guiding her, showing her how to stroke him while his fingers stroked her and her pleasure spiraled. He slid a finger inside her, then two, his thumb gliding over her slick flesh. He watched her eyes close, her back arch, and her breasts sway before him.
As her moan of ecstasy slipped through her lips, he buried his face in her neck and sucked her skin into his mouth in a raw act of possession. Then his body went rigid, and his hot seed spurt into her hands. Breathing heavily, he collapsed against her.
 
 
Evelyn held Jack to her breast, his breath warm against her skin. The steamy air inside the carriage was thick with the scent of their lovemaking. Her breathing was ragged. Her legs were numb below the knee where they were crammed against the side of the carriage, but she couldn't summon the energy to move.
Jack stroked her hair and caressed the length of her back. “Evie, love. There is a handkerchief in my coat pocket.”
He reached across her to pull the handkerchief from his coat and cleansed her hands. Raising her chin with a finger, he kissed her briefly and looked in her eyes.
“I'm sorry for what you had to go through tonight, but I'm glad you are not marrying Randolph. You do not belong with him.”
Her heart raced. Still perched on his lap, with his handsome face inches from hers, her emotions whirled and skidded. She dropped her lashes quickly to hide her raw emotions. She knew Jack was not saying she belonged with him. Only that she had made the right decision concerning Randolph.
“It was the right thing to do,” she whispered.
“But difficult nonetheless.”
Speaking to Randolph had been trying and stressful, but it had freed her mind. She had told him that she did not wish to marry him. Randolph had refused to comprehend, and she knew the laudanum was not entirely to blame, but he had no choice but to acknowledge what she had said when she spoke to him again, for her mind would not change.
And then there was Jack. Even though he had never mentioned words of love, when Jack had swept her into his arms, she had responded with a startling fierceness.
She was a grown woman, she told herself. Life was brief, happiness fleeting. She could make the decision to be with Jack intimately. No one need know what had transpired on the floor of his chambers or inside his carriage.
Jack would undoubtedly go on with his life, with his successful legal career, and she with her own existence.
She was a realist, a pragmatist, and would survive to take care of herself and mend her broken heart. And even if Jack was the marrying kind, she wouldn't want to spend the rest of her life with a man who couldn't commit his entire heart, couldn't love her as much as she loved him.
Such a fate would be a prison of its own making.

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