Free In the Barrister's Chambers by Tina Gabrielle Page A

view before walking away.
    Just then, the door swung open and two men stepped inside, bringing with them a blast of wind.
    Evelyn’s tankard halted halfway to her mouth. “It’s Randolph and Simon,” she said to Jack.
    Jack rested his hand on hers, staying her when she made to rise. “Do not draw attention to yourself. Let them come to us.”

Chapter 10
    Jack eyed the two men at the door. One was of medium height and dark-haired, the other was slightly taller with sandy-colored hair and round spectacles. Jack assumed the darker male was Simon Guthrie and the blonde was Randolph Sheldon as Evelyn had described them. Simon was the first to spot Evelyn in the corner. With a jerk of his head to his friend, the pair made their way to the back of the tavern and took seats at the table.
    â€œRandolph!” Evelyn cried out. “I’ve been so worried.”
    Randolph Sheldon reached across the table and clasped her hand in both of his. “Evelyn, darling. Please forgive me.” His blue eyes watered behind his spectacles, and his fair hair stood on end as if he had repeatedly run his fingers through it in angst. He wore a wrinkled coat with a limp shirt beneath, and his complexion resembled a dish of warm gruel.
    Randolph raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them.
    Jack grit his teeth, and a vicious thought popped into his head: He does not deserve her.
    â€œOh, Randolph,” Evelyn sighed. “Are you well?”
    â€œAs well as can be expected. I never wanted this for you, Evelyn.”
    â€œNonsense, Randolph,” Evelyn admonished, her blue eyes gentle, understanding. “You did not bring this upon yourself. The murderer did.”
    At the mention of the crime, a painful expression crossed Randolph’s countenance. He glanced nervously at Jack.
    Evelyn looked at Jack, then at Randolph. “This is Mr. Harding. He has agreed to represent you.”
    â€œSimon told me about Mr. Harding,” Randolph said. “But I don’t know if it’s necessary for—”
    â€œMr. Harding is extremely accomplished, Randolph,” Evelyn said. “We are fortunate to have him.”
    Randolph still looked uncertain, and Jack spoke up before Evelyn had the chance. “Mr. Sheldon, if Bow Street is looking for you, then it’s only a matter of time until they find you. Do not be fooled by their intentions. Bess Whitfield was a popular actress, and the head magistrate is under a considerable amount of pressure to make an arrest. The people expect a conviction. And from what I understand, the evidence against you is sufficient to give them what they want—whether you are innocent or not.”
    Randolph’s eyes widened behind his spectacles. He looked young and scholarly, the type of man Jack expected Evelyn to be drawn to.
    He is just a boy; what she needs is a man. Jack’s gut twisted at his bitter thoughts. He knew Randolph Sheldon was not a boy, but was twenty-two, the same age as Evelyn.
    â€œThey have made up their minds then. They think I killed Bess,” Randolph said in a choked voice.
    At the common usage of the actress’s first name, Evelyn’s hand fluttered to her chest. “You never explained the extent of your acquaintance with Bess Whitfield in the past.”
    â€œShe was my uncle’s daughter from his first wife. We were close as children, but then her mother died and my uncle remarried and they moved away. She wrote over the years, but it wasn’t until she returned to London to take to the stage that we frequently saw each other again. My uncle died, you see, and I was her only living relative. She . . . she relied on me.”
    â€œWhy did you not tell me?” Evelyn asked.
    Randolph reached out to touch Evelyn’s shoulder.
    Jack wrestled with the urge to slap away Randolph’s wayward hand.
    â€œI wanted to, Evelyn,” Randolph said. “But it was Bess who asked me not to. She was worried