Read Online A Man in Uniform by Kate Taylor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kate Taylor
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ago. Nothing to report except wills and contracts, wills and contracts.”
“We all rely on you, but it must be horribly technical,” commiserated Masson.
His sympathy irritated Dubon. He was, after all, a moderately successful solicitor with a solid practice. If he had once entertained dreams of being a legal crusader, he was hardly the first person who could be accused of growing more sensible with age. Somebody had to look after the nuts and bolts of legal affairs.
“Well, I enjoy my work,” he said a bit defensively. “And it is not all routine. I have an unusual client at the moment—rather delicate case, in fact.”
Masson said nothing, only allowing a little
hmm
, which Dubon read as skepticism, to pass his lips.
“Yes, a client has come to me on behalf of friends who have some disagreement with a military court,” Dubon said.
“And you know your way around the military establishment, no doubt there,” Masson contributed.
Dubon registered the slight, although he knew perfectly well Masson was right and was honest enough to admit it to his face.
“I expect that’s why the client chose me. The case might test some precedents if I can get to the bottom of it.” Dubon, who until that moment had not the least notion of getting to the bottom of the widow’s case, allowed himself a self-important shake of his head.
Masson said nothing and the silence emboldened Dubon, who was not usually a proud man but felt the sting of judgment.
“Yes, the military tribunals can be sloppy, you know, not as experienced as the real judiciary, disregarding proper procedure. It’s a full court martial they want me to overturn.”
“And your client doesn’t need a litigator, then?” Masson inquired blandly.
“Well, yes, I am sure the client will, eventually. I am just laying the groundwork, bit of investigation as it were.”
“Your client can be sure his business is in good hands. Is one permitted to ask his name?”
“She’s a lady actually,” Dubon said, and instantly regretted it.
“A lady?
Tout s’explique
!” said Masson grinning. “It isn’t fair. You have a lovely wife, you should leave some for the rest of us.”
It was as though Masson thought there was something ridiculous about Dubon’s success with the opposite sex. As a youth, Dubon had casually assumed that his own easy popularity trumped Masson’s aristocratic antecedents, but he now sometimes found to his surprise that his friend made him feel socially inadequate.
“She’s a perfectly respectable lady, I assure you. And I would never breach the solicitor–client relationship in that way,” Dubon protested with some heat, perhaps because his recent fantasies involved just such a breach.
“No, no, my friend. I was teasing you. I am jealous, that’s all. Your client—I am sorry, you didn’t say her name …” Dubon ignored the hint and Masson did not press him, saying only, “I am sure her case will prove an interesting diversion for you.”
Conversations with Masson could be such slippery affairs, with insinuations of superiority so nuanced that whenever he complained to Geneviève that his friend left him feeling snubbed, she dismissed hiscomplaint and repeated, as did everyone in their circle, “But the baron is so charming!”
“Yes, it is interesting. Interesting and difficult,” Dubon said. “The charge was … well, let’s just say it was as serious as it gets.”
Masson was still for a moment, staring out beyond Dubon to the zinc countertop where the waiter was lining up clean glasses for the evening patrons now crowding the bar. He then seemed to rouse himself, to brush off a thought, and he said, heartily, “Good luck to you, Dubon. Your clients’ affairs are in trusted hands. I really will get you to draft my will soon. Goodness knows, I don’t have much wealth to distribute, but it is ridiculous not to have something on paper. After what we saw the other night, makes you think.” He grinned, a
“We all rely on you, but it must be horribly technical,” commiserated Masson.
His sympathy irritated Dubon. He was, after all, a moderately successful solicitor with a solid practice. If he had once entertained dreams of being a legal crusader, he was hardly the first person who could be accused of growing more sensible with age. Somebody had to look after the nuts and bolts of legal affairs.
“Well, I enjoy my work,” he said a bit defensively. “And it is not all routine. I have an unusual client at the moment—rather delicate case, in fact.”
Masson said nothing, only allowing a little
hmm
, which Dubon read as skepticism, to pass his lips.
“Yes, a client has come to me on behalf of friends who have some disagreement with a military court,” Dubon said.
“And you know your way around the military establishment, no doubt there,” Masson contributed.
Dubon registered the slight, although he knew perfectly well Masson was right and was honest enough to admit it to his face.
“I expect that’s why the client chose me. The case might test some precedents if I can get to the bottom of it.” Dubon, who until that moment had not the least notion of getting to the bottom of the widow’s case, allowed himself a self-important shake of his head.
Masson said nothing and the silence emboldened Dubon, who was not usually a proud man but felt the sting of judgment.
“Yes, the military tribunals can be sloppy, you know, not as experienced as the real judiciary, disregarding proper procedure. It’s a full court martial they want me to overturn.”
“And your client doesn’t need a litigator, then?” Masson inquired blandly.
“Well, yes, I am sure the client will, eventually. I am just laying the groundwork, bit of investigation as it were.”
“Your client can be sure his business is in good hands. Is one permitted to ask his name?”
“She’s a lady actually,” Dubon said, and instantly regretted it.
“A lady?
Tout s’explique
!” said Masson grinning. “It isn’t fair. You have a lovely wife, you should leave some for the rest of us.”
It was as though Masson thought there was something ridiculous about Dubon’s success with the opposite sex. As a youth, Dubon had casually assumed that his own easy popularity trumped Masson’s aristocratic antecedents, but he now sometimes found to his surprise that his friend made him feel socially inadequate.
“She’s a perfectly respectable lady, I assure you. And I would never breach the solicitor–client relationship in that way,” Dubon protested with some heat, perhaps because his recent fantasies involved just such a breach.
“No, no, my friend. I was teasing you. I am jealous, that’s all. Your client—I am sorry, you didn’t say her name …” Dubon ignored the hint and Masson did not press him, saying only, “I am sure her case will prove an interesting diversion for you.”
Conversations with Masson could be such slippery affairs, with insinuations of superiority so nuanced that whenever he complained to Geneviève that his friend left him feeling snubbed, she dismissed hiscomplaint and repeated, as did everyone in their circle, “But the baron is so charming!”
“Yes, it is interesting. Interesting and difficult,” Dubon said. “The charge was … well, let’s just say it was as serious as it gets.”
Masson was still for a moment, staring out beyond Dubon to the zinc countertop where the waiter was lining up clean glasses for the evening patrons now crowding the bar. He then seemed to rouse himself, to brush off a thought, and he said, heartily, “Good luck to you, Dubon. Your clients’ affairs are in trusted hands. I really will get you to draft my will soon. Goodness knows, I don’t have much wealth to distribute, but it is ridiculous not to have something on paper. After what we saw the other night, makes you think.” He grinned, a
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