Betina Krahn Read Online Free PDF

Carter Townshend—do not believe that their responsibility to their clients ends even at the very threshold of heaven.” He gestured expansively. “They are honor bound to carry out the functions and duties devolved upon them through the final wishes of their clients. It is a rare and precious trust they bear, and they accept it in solemn—”
    “Yes, yes, Fartsworth, we all know what a sterling bunch of fellows they are,” Sir William declared, waving an impatient hand. “Get on with it. This Miss Duncan wants her money and your clients won’t give it to her. Why the hell not?”
    Farnsworth opened his mouth, closed it again, and his fleshy face turned red. The others seated at the tables behind him looked at one another, wondering if they had misheard the magistrate. In the gallery Cole had choked on an inhaled breath and began to cough.
    Dunwoody came to the barrister’s rescue, springing to his feet. “We believe it is in Miss Duncan’s best interest, Your Worship. If you will permit me … you see, our client—”
    “
Unwilling
client.”
    Sir William scowled at the plaintiff’s elderly legal representative. “Wait your turn, Pendergast.” As the old fellow sank back into his voluminous robes, Sir William turned back to the defendants. “Proceed”—he waved a hand perfunctorily—“Dimwitty.”
    Dunwoody started, aghast at Sir William’s mispronunciation, not to mention the omission of his title. “It is
Dunwoody,
Your Worship.”
    Sir William produced a pair of pince-nez spectacles out of his robe and peered through them at the array of documents spread before him on the bench. “So it is. Continue, Dumwoody.”
    Dunwoody stood for a moment, rigid with indignation, then sat down abruptly. A testy and determined Farnsworth resumed his discourse, proceeding straight to the arguments themselves. “Your Honor, my clients’
unwilling client
is the heir of a deceased lady of considerable worth, Miss Olivia Duncan. Over the years their firm has cared for Miss Olivia’s affairs as if they were their own. In their hands her investments and properties flourished so that she died with a very fine fortune, the bulk of which she left to her grandniece, Miss Madeline Duncan.” He moved closer to the bench, as if to enlist Sir William’s understanding, man to man.
    “If it please Your Honor”—his voice lowered—“Miss Olivia was a rare soul who lived a most unworldly life. And Miss Madeline Duncan is of the same constitution and background. They are women of very high ideals but with little experience in the real world. What Miss Madeline Duncan proposes to do with her new fortune shows an ignorance of both society and humankind. As Miss Olivia’s executors and as trustees of Miss Madeline’s fortune, my clients cannot permit her to squander her resources so frivolously and irresponsibly.”
    “Oh? And just what does she intend to do with her money that they find so objectionable?” Sir William demanded.
    “It is all in the court briefs we’ve submitted,” Dunwoody muttered, still stinging from Sir William’s misuse of his good name.
    “But, of course, we shall be pleased to review for Your Honor,” Farnsworth hurriedly interposed, shooting Dunwoody a narrow look. “It seems Miss Duncan has rather quaint notions of reforming the world … beginning with the very
foundations
of womanhood.”
    “Foundations?” Sir William leveled an impatient look at the barrister. “What the devil do you mean, Fartsworth … 
female foundations
?”
    The barrister reddened and appeared to be sorting his words. “To put it bluntly, Your Honor, female ‘improvers.’ ” At the blank look on Sir William’s face, Farnsworth said bluntly, “Miss Duncan wishes to rid women of their
corsets.
”
    Sir William’s eyes widened on the barrister, requiring him to continue.
    “In Miss Duncan’s opinion, female corsetry ranks as the eighth deadly sin.” She proposes to launch a crusade against that