Acceptable Loss - Anne Perry [46]
“Parfitt tried to blackmail him,” he said, reaching absentmindedly for the salt, and then, realizing that he had already used it, putting it down again. “It would have gone on forever.”
“Of course it would. Until his father refused to pay,” she said drily, returning her attention to her meal. They had an excellent cook, both imaginative and skilled, but tonight Rathbone barely tasted his food.
“You haven’t asked me if I believe he did it,” he pointed out, and then realized how critical he sounded.
Margaret put her fork down. “Do you doubt it?”
“There must always be room for doubt—”
“Don’t be pedantic, Oliver,” she interrupted him. “I know that, legally. I mean do you, personally, doubt it?”
“Yes, I do. He denies it, and I believe he may be speaking the truth. He is hardly the only one to wish Parfitt dead.”
“There is all the difference in the world between wishing someone dead and making it so,” she said reasonably. “How much difference is there between a man who will pay others to torture and abuse small boys for his gratification, and one who will kill the provider of such abomination rather than continue to pay for it?”
He heard the anger in her voice, and the revulsion. He would not have expected anything less. He felt it himself. And yet he also understood Rupert’s horror when he realized what his blindness and stupidity had led him into. Was he naïve to believe that Rupert might actually be innocent of the murder of Parfitt? Was he acting on exactly the kind of emotional loyalty, devoid of reason, that he saw in Margaret’s family? Lord Cardew reminded him of his own father, and his pity was instinctive and immediate.
“I’ve agreed to defend him,” he said aloud.
Margaret froze.
Now he was compelled to justify himself. “Everyone deserves a defense, Margaret, the benefit of doubt until guilt is proved.”
“Of course he needs to be defended,” she agreed, her eyes bright and angry. “But not by you. You are the finest barrister in London, maybe in the whole of England. Your very presence will draw attention to the case and make people believe there is something to be said for the whole repulsive business. Whatever you argue on the niceties of the law, the vast majority of people will believe you are doing it because of his father’s title and money, not because you have any real belief in his innocence.”
“No one will who knows me,” he said with a touch of chill. Her accusation hurt. It caught him by surprise that she should think it.
“Most people don’t know you,” she said reasonably, but there was a pucker between her brows. “They will simply leap to the easiest conclusion.”
“And I should cater to them?” he inquired.
“You are exaggerating,” she answered coolly. “I didn’t suggest that you follow every whim of public opinion, merely that you do not need to defend every criminal, no matter how base their crime, just to prove that the law must be honored. Let someone else defend Rupert Cardew.”
“You mean so that we may hang him and then go home and still sleep well?”
“Yes, I suppose I do mean that.” Now it was a definite retaliation. “If you are going to hang anyone at all, then Rupert Cardew deserves it. The use of children in prostitution and pornography is bestial. Anyone who had a part in that, of any sort, deserves the rope.” She leaned forward over her plate, the food now entirely forgotten. “And don’t tell me he didn’t actively participate. That is irrelevant, Oliver, and you know it. He knew, and he did nothing about it. He could have called the police, made the whole thing public, but instead he chose to kill Parfitt, in order to spare his own embarrassment, and that of his friends who are little better. You can’t defend him, because it is indefensible.”
He was stunned into silence.
“I suppose Lord Cardew asked you to,” she went on. “And you were too softhearted to refuse him. Of course the poor man believes his son is innocent. What else could he bear to believe?”
“Perhaps he is right?” he said softly, placing his knife and fork on the plate.