Documentation we will demonstrate was falsified, Peton countered. By whom? Dead men who can't defend themselves. The judge's gavel cracked. Gentlemen, you'll present your cases in turn. Mr. Peton, call your first witness.
What followed were hours of testimony. Servants who'd seen marked cards. A dealer who'd been paid to cheat, now conscience-stricken. A bookkeeper who'd kept detailed records of suspicious patterns in the games. Each witness was torn apart by Whitmore. Their memories questioned. Their motives impugned. Their characters dragged through mud.
Emma watched Charles through it all. Saw the tension in his shoulders. The way his jaw tightened every time Whitmore suggested his father had been simply incompetent, not cheated. By midday, the case looked precarious. The evidence was circumstantial. The witnesses unreliable. And Whitmore was masterful at creating doubt.
This is going badly, Margaret whispered. Charles looks determined, Emma said quietly. He looks determined. But privately she worried. What if they lost? What if the judge ruled against them? Charles would be ruined. Everything they'd fought for, gone.
The afternoon session began with Thornhill taking the stand. He testified about the investigation. The patterns he'd uncovered. The way the same men appeared at every game where Charles's father lost heavily. Lord Thornhill, Whitmore said smoothly during cross-examination. Isn't it true that you're a close personal friend of the Duke of Winterborne? Yes.
And that you have a vested interest in seeing him escape these debts. I have an interest in seeing justice done. Justice? Or loyalty? Whitmore smiled thinly. Tell me, Lord Thornhill, how much did the Duke pay you to conduct this convenient investigation? Nothing. I did it because I believe in the truth.
The truth? Or the version of truth that saves your friend's estate. Whitmore turned to the judge. Your honor, this entire case rests on the testimony of paid witnesses and biased friends. There is no credible evidence of fraud. Only a young duke desperate to escape his father's mistakes.
The judge's expression was unreadable. Mr. Peton, do you have anything further? Peton stood slowly. Emma held her breath. Your honor, I have one final witness. Someone who can speak directly to Lord Harrington's intent and methods. Call them.