In the Barrister's Chambers Read Online Free PDF Page B

Darlington’s chambers. His Latin and Greek were sorely lacking, and he had never bothered to learn the basics of torts, contracts, or criminal procedure. But he had the gift of speech and a glib tongue like that of an experienced politician, and her father had instantly recognized his talent and taken Jack under his wing.
    She herself had tried every trick she knew to gain Jack’s attention. Unfortunately, without female guidance, no one ever told her the way to a man’s heart was not through fluent Latin or a complete knowledge of William Blackstone’s legal works.
    Turning a corner, the heels of her kidskin shoes echoed down a long hallway of doors bearing brass nameplates engraved with the names of barristers. She finally came to a stop at the nameplate announcing the Chambers of Mr. Jack Harding, Mr. Brent Stone, Mr. Anthony Stevens, and Mr. James Devlin. The first name was the only one of interest to her, and she knew the other three belonged to barristers who shared chambers with Jack.
    Taking a deep breath, she reached for the handle and swept inside. She entered a common room, with rows of file cabinets lining the walls. A middle-aged clerk, seated behind a desk writing furiously on a legal-looking document, looked up and froze.
    â€œMay I help you, miss?”
    â€œLady Evelyn Darlington looking for Mr. Harding.”
    â€œIs he expecting you, Lady Evelyn?”
    â€œOf course,” she lied.
    Adjusting his spectacles, he looked down at an appointment book, his ink-stained fingers traveling down the page.
    Evelyn held her breath as her mind spun with excuses.
    The clerk shook his head once and looked up. “I’m sorry, my lady, but I do not see your name in his appointment register.”
    â€œThen there must be a mistake,” she said in a haughty tone she had heard her father use when addressing an unethical adversary. “Please advise Mr. Harding of my presence.”
    The clerk stood and strode down the hall, past several closed doors until he stopped before one. He knocked once, then cracked open the door. “A Lady Evelyn Darlington is here to see you, Mr. Harding. She claims she has an appointment, but I—”
    Evelyn heard a murmur from behind the door, and the squeaking springs of a chair, and then the door opened wide.
    Jack stood in the entrance. He wore an impeccably tailored suit, the navy jacket of which emphasized the outline of his broad shoulders, and she wondered if he had another trial at the Old Bailey this morning. The familiar lock of wavy brown hair fell casually on his forehead as if he had styled it in such a roguish manner to enhance his appeal. But it was his unfathomable, emerald eyes that seemed to glow in his bronzed face that held her attention.
    His gaze swept her figure, then returned to her face, and he grinned.
    The pit of her stomach churned in response.
    â€œIt’s quite all right, McHugh,” Jack said. “Lady Evelyn is always welcome in my chambers.”
    The clerk nodded, and she handed him her cloak. He shut the door behind him on his way out.
    She stood awkwardly in Jack’s chambers, her eyes roaming the space. It was more impressive even than her father’s chambers had been. With keen interest she took in the massive bookshelves lined with law books and the stacks of litigation pleadings and briefs piled on his mahogany desk. A luxurious Wilton carpet with a cut-velvet appearance and Turkish pattern covered the floor. Behind his desk was a stone fireplace, ready to be lit, and resting on the mantel was a bust of Sir Thomas More—one of the most prominent members of Lincoln’s Inn—who had been tragically beheaded by Henry VIII for refusing to acknowledge the king as the Supreme Head of the Church of England.
    â€œI was going to pay a visit today,” Jack said, “to make certain you were all right after last night. How is your father faring?”
    â€œHe’s quite well. He rose