I call Lady Beatrice Harrington. The courtroom erupted. Beatrice went white. Her father stood immediately, his face purple with rage. Objection, Whitmore shouted. Lady Beatrice is not on the witness list. She was added this morning, your honor. Properly filed. Peton held up papers. The lady has information relevant to this case.
The judge studied the documents, then nodded. I'll allow it. Lady Beatrice, please take the stand. Beatrice rose slowly, her composure fractured. She moved to the witness box like someone walking to an execution. Emma leaned forward. This wasn't planned. Or if it was, Charles hadn't told her.
Peton approached gently. Lady Beatrice, thank you for your courage in testifying today. She said nothing, her hands gripped tight in her lap. Lady Beatrice, you were engaged to the Duke of Winterborne until recently. Is that correct? Yes. Her voice was barely audible.
And during that engagement, did your father discuss the nature of the Duke's financial difficulties with you? A pause. Yes. What did he tell you? Beatrice's eyes flicked to her father. To Charles. Back to Peton. He said the Duke was drowning in his father's gambling debts. That he needed our family's money to survive.
And did he say how those debts were incurred? Another pause. Longer. The courtroom held its breath. Lady Beatrice, the judge said quietly. You're under oath. Beatrice's composure cracked. Tears filled her eyes. Real tears, Emma realized. Not performance. Actual emotion.
He said they'd been planning it for years, she whispered. That my grandfather and father had identified the old duke as a target. Someone with a title and diminishing resources. Someone who could be, her voice broke. Someone who could be manipulated into gambling away everything.
The courtroom exploded. Harrington lunged toward the witness box, his barrister holding him back. Journalists scribbled frantically. The judge's gavel cracked repeatedly. Order! Order! Beatrice continued, tears streaming now. They marked the cards. They rigged the games. They made sure he lost everything so that when his son inherited, he'd be desperate enough to marry me. To bind the Winterborne name to our fortune.
And you knew this? Peton asked quietly. Not at first. But my father told me before the engagement was announced. He said, she looked at Charles, her expression broken. He said it was a brilliant strategy. That I'd be a duchess. And he'd control one of England's oldest titles. And I went along with it because I wanted the position. Because I thought, her voice dropped to a whisper. Because I thought wanting to be a duchess was enough reason to destroy someone's life.