One Night in London Read Online Free PDF

hated to waste that time, but every other solicitor and investigator she interviewed had been lacking in some way. She didn’t want to hear the reasons why her case might fail; she was already well aware of them. She wanted to hear someone assure her she had a chance, and that he would pursue that chance to the very end of the earth. That was all she asked—that, and success.
    A clerk showed her into a small office to wait, and offered to bring tea. Francesca declined. She didn’t need anything to distract her from her interview. She had prepared for it intensely, knowing how much depended on winning his interest, and asked a variety of acquaintances for advice. Sir Phillip Blake, her neighbor, told her to engage the solicitor’s love of a challenge. Mr. Ludlow, husband of her dear friend Sally, suggested she stress the urgency of her situation, to pique Wittiers’s urge to champion someone in need. Lord Alconbury, a longtime friend, told her to avoid dramatics, especially tears. And Mr. Heatherington, incorrigible rogue and flirt, advised her to look beautiful, because Wittiers was just as much a man as he was a solicitor. Francesca wanted to leave nothing to chance. She was determined to meet every point, no matter how minor.
    She perched now on the edge of the small settee and mentally ran over her rehearsed speech. Other solicitors had told her the case was a wretched tangle, as if she couldn’t have guessed that herself, but she was counting on Wittiers to find the thread that would unravel it. A stickier point might be the fee; from his reputation alone, Wittiers must charge a small fortune. Francesca lived a comfortable life and had some money, but she wasn’t enthusiastic about the prospect of beggaring herself. She had fretted a bit over it, but then thought again of her niece, and hardened herself against worries about money. To save darling Georgina from her vapid and venal stepmother, Francesca was willing to risk everything. Somehow she would come to an agreement with Wittiers about his fee.
    After a while the door opened. She rose, feeling composed and measured, and turned to greet Mr. Wittiers, who was younger than she had expected. Fair and barrel-chested, he was just the same height as she was, and he met her gaze levelly, with no trace of condescension or scorn. There was a vital, snapping intelligence in his eyes that reassured her even more. After a brief polite greeting, he got right down to business.
    “My clerk, Mr. Napier, tells me you have a highly complex situation,” he said, seating himself in the chair near her. He propped one elbow on the armrest and focused his intense gaze upon her. “Would you be so kind as to explain, from the beginning?”
    “Of course.” Francesca folded her hands in her lap. She didn’t want to lose herself and become excited. “The story is more complex than the situation. To be concise, I wish to have the care of my late sister’s daughter bestowed upon me. My niece, Georgina, is currently living with her stepmother, and I fear the woman is taking advantage of Georgina’s inheritance and using it to support her own family.”
    His dry smile was gone almost before she registered it. “I presume you have proof of that charge, Lady Gordon.”
    “Hard proof, in the form of confessional letters or receipts, no,” she said carefully. “Proof that the woman, Mrs. Haywood, inherited a very small portion from her late husband, yes. Proof that she lost her home soon after his death, yes. Proof that her brother, Mr. Watts, has influenced her to keep me from seeing my niece since I offered to raise her, yes.”
    “Suggestive,” he said, “but not proof.”
    She raised her eyebrow, still calm and cool. “I understood you were willing to act as investigator as well as solicitor for your clients.”
    “It has been done,” he agreed.
    Francesca smiled. “Then I am sure we will be able to deal very well together.”
    Wittiers stared at her for a moment, a