Read Online Cecilia Grant - [Blackshear Family 03] by A Woman Entangled - Free Book Online Page B

addressing the men directly. Couldn’t fault the fellow for that. If theatrics had no place, the jury would simply read over the briefs to arrive at a verdict.
    “No, I never give my consent, nor give her any money, nor promised any neither. She stole it, without my knowledge, by thievery.” He bit down on the toothpick and rocked his weight back onto his heels.
    Here, indeed, was the crux of the case: Miss Watson claimed Mr. Cutler had paid six shillings for the pleasure of her company and then demanded his money back the next morning. Mr. Cutler maintained the company had been freely given. Miss Watson’s seemed the more credible of the two tales, which point would, one hoped, help the jury to also credit her in the much murkier matter of the three pounds, some shillings, and vanished ring.
    And he could do a bit to help with that, too.
    “Mr. Cutler,” he said when Kersey had concluded his questioning—with a fine, stylish stalking sort of return to the table and a fluid descent into his chair. “The arresting constable has stated that the prisoner had fourteen shillings and sixpence upon her at the time of apprehension, and no ring.” He might have made a show of looking up the amount in his brief. He wasn’t above the occasional flourish himself. But his opponent having so clearly staked out the theatrical territory today, he’d likely do better to adopt a contrasting style.
    So he stood, hands clasped behind his back, at right angles to the witness box, all his attention presumably leveled on the man therein while still presenting a clear view of his profile to the rows where the jury sat. “In keeping with your allegations, oughtn’t he to have reported three pounds, five shillings, and sixpence? And a ring?”
    “Not if she hid all but the coins what were reported.” Cutler saluted with his toothpick, in the manner of a fencer who’d just scored a hit.
    “Indeed. But that seems an odd thing for her to do. To hide some of her ill-gotten gains, and keep the rest about her.” A brief pause, for the jurors to consider this fact. “Also, the constable searched her room, according to his report, and didn’t find any additional money. Nor any ring.” Now came the time to dispense with scruple. He tilted his head. “A wedding ring, was it?”
    On the left periphery, Kersey shot to his feet. As well he ought. “That point is not material to the issue at hand.”
    “Please confine yourself, Mr. Blackshear, to questions touching directly on the matter of whether or not the prosecutor was robbed by the prisoner. We are not here to consider his personal morality, or lack thereof.” Nearly as good as a wink, the wry tone in which the honorable justice Scholyer delivered this reprimand. Surely some among the jury would read that for tacit approbation, and surely some would feel at liberty to pass private judgment on Cutler in consequence. Never mind that these men might pay but imperfect tribute to their own marriage vows. A seat in the jury box had a way of scrubbing a man’s conscience clean, and leaving him free to condemn other men’s lapses at will.
    Nick bowed his head, half twisting to direct his acquiescence to the judges’ bench, and maintained the posture until Kersey had sunk back into his seat.
    He lifted his chin, none too hurriedly, and brought his gaze around to settle, for a thoughtful twelve seconds, on the prisoner in her box. She showed her teeth three times in that span: once to him, once to the judges, and once to the jury. He’d have a few words for Stubbs, when this was done.
    A smart flick of attention back to the witness box. “Mr. Cutler, how much money do you have on your person at this moment?”
    Up came Kersey again, but this time Nick didn’t wait for him to speak. “I wish to examine the detail of Mr. Cutler’s recalling, to the shilling, how much money he had on him on the night in question.” He addressed the bench directly. Not so much as a glance at the opposing