The Indebted Earl by Erica Vetsch (love letters to the dead TXT) 📕

Marcus for seeing that someone was looking after Sophie while she spent her time looking after everyone else.

Who would look after her when Charles went back to sea?

If he got the opportunity to go back to sea, that was. He had to get through this trial first.

Sophie edged into the row of chairs near the back wall. People packed the assembly room. The magistrate, a small man with enormous side-whiskers, marched to the table in the front of the room, chest puffed out, coattails fluttering.

Sophie stiffened. The man had been rude and pompous to her, forbidding her to see her husband. Insisting it was to protect her sensibilities since she was a “mere woman.” She clamped her teeth together.

Admiral Barrington sat beside her, drawing glances and whispers. He exuded power and confidence, and Sophie was grateful for his presence. On her other side, Mr. Coles took a chair. He gave her an encouraging smile.

“Have no fear, my dear. This trial is a formality, nothing more.”

“What happens if we don’t win?”

“The case will be referred to Crown Court, and we’ll all go to London. For now, the affair is being handled by the local magistrate, but if things don’t go our way—though I’m certain they will—Allard will appeal on the grounds that the case should have been tried in Crown Court from the beginning.”

A side door opened, and Charles appeared between two guards, his wrists in shackles. But his head was high, and he wore the clothes she had sent him.

His naval uniform.

She had known he would want it, would feel best if he could wear it. It was such a part of his character, his being a naval captain, and she wanted him to be proud and assured as he defended himself today.

The barristers entered. Mr. Allard carried a satchel under his arm.

The only one not present was Marcus. Where was he?

Charles’s eyes sought hers as he was ushered to the chair beside his barrister, and he nodded. His face was grim, determined. In the ten days he had been incarcerated, he seemed to have aged.

The magistrate called the room to order, and the formal charges were read. Knowing they were false made hearing them all the more difficult. Sophie clenched her hands in her lap and pressed her lips together. Barrington shifted in his seat, but Mr. Coles was unmoved.

Then the prosecuting barrister rose.

The case appeared damning. Especially when so-called witnesses were brought in to testify. People Sophie had never seen before saying that they had often seen signals from the cliffs at Gateshead since Charles had become the earl.

Mr. Allard refused to cross-examine any of them, and Sophie nudged Mr. Coles. “Why won’t he ask them questions? Why is he letting them tell lies?”

“Not now, milady. Allard has his methods. The defense will have the opportunity to tell their side of things later.”

The magistrate frowned in their direction, and Coles straightened.

The Revenue officer took the stand and testified to finding the contraband alcohol on the estate. He also showed the note to the court.

That wretched note. Where had it come from? Had it been written to the previous earl, or was it manufactured and planted to condemn Charles?

Then a man was called to the stand, and he produced the red, white, and blue banner that Thea had found on Sophie and Charles’s wedding day. The banner Miles Enys had been instructed to destroy.

“It’s common knowledge that this is for signaling ships. I’ve seen it on the cliffs at Gateshead plenty of times. When it’s there, within a few hours a boat usually slips into the cove, or the Shearwater, the estate’s boat, runs out of the cove to meet up with a vessel anchored offshore.”

The magistrate called for a noon recess. Sophie made for the defense table, hoping for a word with her husband before he was escorted out. She had to force her way through onlookers and gawkers. By the time she got to the rail, he had been shackled once more and the guards were leading him away.

“Charles.” She elbowed between two rotund men’s backs. They turned, frowning, and reluctantly made room for her to pass.

One guard held up his hand. “Stop there. You can’t approach the prisoner.”

“She’s my wife,” Charles declared, standing tall and straight.

“I don’t care if she’s Princess Charlotte herself. We have our orders.” The guard tugged on Charles’s arm.

Sophie reached out, and her fingers brushed her husband’s outstretched ones. “Keep your courage.”

“You too.” And he was gone, whisked away to his cell.

Thus far, if Sophie had been a disinterested party, she would think Charles guilty. His barrister had put up a paltry defense against the prosecution’s lies. Where had they dug up witnesses with such ridiculous stories, and why hadn’t Allard confronted them?

And where was Marcus? If he had gone to find evidence to prove Charles’s innocence, he needed to hurry.

“You will not let evildoers prevail. You will disappoint them in their crafty ways.” She breathed the prayer as she went out of the assembly room. Though it was midday, she couldn’t think of eating.

In the afternoon, it was finally Charles’s turn to make his case. Mr. Allard rose, adjusted his robe, and addressed the court. “Gentlemen, what you have listened to this morning is a fabrication, a carefully crafted plot to make my client appear guilty. It is illusion and subterfuge. Before you is an honorable man, a naval captain of excellent reputation, a titled gentleman willing to take on three orphaned girls with little thought to anything except that it was the right thing to do.

“He never asked for the title or estate at Gateshead, wishing only to remain in the navy, but he understood his responsibility. And he was pitchforked into an impossible situation. Smuggling has long been a problem on our shores, and when he arrived to assume his position at Gateshead, he unwittingly set in motion a chain of events that the real culprits found intolerable. Therefore, they sought a way to get