Almost Heaven (Sequels 3)

"Why are you doing this?" Elizabeth cried. "For the love of heaven, I'm on your side!"

"Thank God we don't have more like you." Elizabeth steadfastly ignored that and launched into a swift but complete version of everything that had happened from the moment Robert came up behind her at Havenhurst. Finished, she stood up, ready to go in and tell everyone across the hall the same thing, but Delham continued to pillory her with his gaze, watching her in silence above his steepled fingertips. "Are we supposed to believe that Banbury tale?" he snapped at last. "Your brother is alive, but he isn't here. Are we supposed to accept the word of a married woman who brazenly traveled as man and wife with another man-"

"With my brother. Elizabeth retorted, bracing her palms on the desk, as if by sheer proximity she could make him understand.

"So you want us to believe. Why, Lady Thornton? Why this sudden interest in your husband's well-being?"

"Delham!" the duchess barked. "Are you mad? Anyone can see she's telling the truth-even I-and I wasn't inclined to believe a word she said when she arrived at my house! You are tearing into her for no reason-"

Without moving his eyes from Elizabeth, Mr. Delham said shortly, "Your grace, what I've been doing is nothing to what the prosecution will try to do to her story. If she can't hold up in here, she hasn't a chance out there'"

"I don't understand this at all!" Elizabeth cried with panic and fury. "By being here I can disprove that my husband has done away with me. And I have a letter from Mrs. Hogan describing my brother in detail and stating that we were together. She will come here herself if you need her, only she is with child and couldn't travel as quickly as I had to do. This is a trial to prove whether or not my husband is guilty of those crimes. I know the truth, and I can prove he isn't."

"You're mistaken, Lady Thornton," Delham said in a bitter voice. -'Because of its sensational nature and the wild conjecture in the press, this is no longer a quest for truth and justice in the House of Lords. This is now an amphitheater, and the prosecution is in the center of the stage, playing a starring role before an audience of thousands allover England who will read about it in the papers. They're bent on giving a stellar performance, and they've been doing just that. Very well," he said after a moment. "Let's see how well you can deal with them."

Elizabeth was so relieved to see him stand up at last that not even his last remarks about the prosecution's motives had any weight with her. "I've told you everything exactly as it happened, and I've brought Mrs. Hogan's letter here to verify the part about Robert. She will come here herself, as I said, if it's necessary. She can describe him for everyone and even identify him from portraits I have of him-"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Perhaps you've described him well for her and paid her to do this," he remarked, again assuming the prosecutor's role. "Have you promised her money for coming here, by the way?"

"Yes, but-"

"Never mind, " he clipped angrily. "It doesn't matter." "It doesn't matter?" she repeated dumbly. "But Lord Kyleton said the prosecution's best case, and most damning case, has always been about my brother."

"As I've just told you," he said coldly, "it is not my primary concern at this moment. I'm going to put you where you can hear what I'm saying for the next few moments without being seen by anyone. My assistant will come to escort you to the witness box."

"Will-will you tell Ian I'm here?" she asked in a suffocated little voice.

"Absolutely not. I want him to have his first glimpse of you along with everyone else. I want them to see his initial reaction and judge its validity." With the duchess following behind he led them to another door, then stepped aside, and Elizabeth realized they were in a secluded alcove where they could see everything and everyone without being seen. Her pulse began to race as her senses tried to take in the entire kaleidoscope of color and movement and sound. The long, chamber with its high, vaulted ceilings was buzzing loudly with hundreds of muted conversations taking place in the galleries above and on the benches below, where lords of the realm sat, waiting impatiently for the trial to continue.

Not far from their alcove the scarlet-robed and bewigged Lord Chancellor was seated on the traditional red Woolsack, from where he would preside over the trial.

Below and about him were more grim-faced men in scarlet robes and powdered wigs, including eight judges and the Crown's prosecutors. Seated at another table were men whom Elizabeth presumed to be Ian's solicitors and their clerks, more grim-faced men in scarlet robes and powdered wigs. Elizabeth watched Peterson Delham striding forward down the aisle, and she tried desperately to see around him. Surely Ian would be seated at whatever table. . . her frantic gaze skidded to a stop, riveting on his beloved face. His name rose to her lips, and she bit down to stop herself from crying out to him that she was there. At the same time a teary smile touched her lips, because everything about him-even the nonchalant way he was sitting-was so achingly, beautifully familiar. Other accused men must surely have sat at rigid and respectful attention, but not Ian, she realized with a pang of pride and a twinge of alarm. As if he intended to display his utter contempt for the legality, the validity, of the proceedings against him, Ian was sitting in the accused box, his right elbow resting on the polished wooden ledge that surrounded him, his booted foot propped atop his knee. He looked dispassionate, cold, and in complete control.

"I trust that you're ready to begin again, Mr. Delham," the Lord Chancellor said irritably, and the instant his voice rose the great hall grew instantly quiet. In the galleries above and on the benches below, lords stiffened with attention and turned alertly toward the Chancellor-everyone did. Everyone, Elizabeth noted, except for Ian, who continued to lounge in his chair, looking impatient now, as if the trial was a farce taking his time away from weightier matters.

"I apologize again for this delay, my lords," Delham said after pausing to whisper something to the youngest of Ian's solicitors, who was seated at a table near Delham. The young man arose abruptly and started around the perimeter of the room-heading, Elizabeth realized, straight toward her. Turning back to the Lord Chancellor, Delham said with extreme courtesy, "My Lord, if you will permit me a little leeway in procedure at this time, I believe we can resolve the entire issue at hand without further debate or calling of witnesses."

"Explain your meaning, Mr. Delham," he commanded curtly.