A Breach of Promise - Anne Perry [46]
The judge looked expectantly at Rathbone.
Rathbone had turned immediately to Melville. Sacheverall was right in that he had not known his client as well as he wished to.
But the look on Melville’s face was one of bitter but quite honest laughter. No one could doubt he found the remark genuinely funny. There was no embarrassment in him, not a shred of shame or even discomfort.
The judge blinked.
One or two jurors looked at each other.
Sacheverall colored very slightly, as if aware he had stepped a little too far. For the first time he had lost the sympathy of the jury. But he would not retreat.
“There may be many reasons for a man to shrink from marriage,” he said rather loudly. “Reasons he would not be willing to acknowledge to anyone. I make no accusations, please be clear; I speak only in general. He may be aware of disease in himself, or in his family.” He waved his arms in a gesture Rathbone had come to recognize was characteristic. “There may be a strain of madness. He may have a burden of debt he cannot meet, and therefore could not keep a wife. He may even be in danger of prosecution for some offense or other. He may already be married!”
There was a buzz of excited conversation as people in the gallery turned to whisper to one another.
“Silence!” Mr. Justice McKeever ordered, his voice surprisingly penetrating for one so soft. “Silence, or I shall clear the court!”
Obedience was instant. A man in the gallery cleared his throat, and it sounded like a minor explosion.
“Or he may be unable to consummate the union,” Sacheverall finished.
One of the jurors, an elderly man with thick white hair, clicked his teeth and shook his head disapprovingly. The remark obviously offended him as being in exceedingly poor taste. Gentlemen did not discuss such things.
Again Rathbone glanced at Melville, and saw only laughter in his light, sea-blue eyes.
“Of course,” Rathbone agreed, equally penetratingly. “And there may be many reasons why a man may decline to marry a particular lady, many of them disagreeable, coarse and offensive even to suggest, so I shall not.” He saw out of the corner of his eye one of the jurors nod. “I am loathe to have this already sad situation descend to such a level,” he finished.
McKeever smiled bleakly. He had seen too many civil cases to hold out any such hope.
“I am sure you would,” Sacheverall agreed sarcastically. “And I daresay your client even more so. But he should have thought of that before he humiliated and insulted Miss Lambert and used her affections so lightly. It is too late for such regrets now, even more for the fear of how it may reflect upon his own reputation.”
The fragile advantage had slipped away already. Thank heaven it was Friday and Rathbone had two days in which to try to prevail on Melville to tell him the truth. If he did not, then he could see no strategy at all which would avoid defeat. Perhaps Melville had not realized quite how damaging that would be to him, not only financially but also professionally. Barton Lambert would certainly cease to support him or employ him. Lambert was a man of influence. Melville might very well find his entire career jeopardized, regardless of his brilliance.
Rathbone forced himself to smile and face Sacheverall.
“This is not over yet,” he said with infinitely more confidence than he felt. “Let us await the conclusion before we assess the damage, and to whom. I have no wish to cause injury, but I shall represent my client’s interests with all the vigor at my disposal.”
“Naturally.” Sacheverall was not disturbed. He had regained his composure and he knew he had little to fear. Victory was only an inch from his grasp, and in his mind he could already feel it. “One would expect no less of you,” he added, but his smile