"Jack knows the court room well but he has met his match with Lady Evelyn Darlington"
Reviewed by Mandy Burns
Posted October 30, 2011
Romance Historical
Lady Evelyn Darlington is desperate to help her
soon-to-be-fiancé, Randolph. To help him, Lady Evelyn must
get the best barrister in London, Jack Harding. Evelyn is
going to have to find a way to set aside the silly childhood
crush she had on Jack all those years ago and convince him
to represent Randolph when he is charged with a murder
Evelyn is sure he didn't commit. To Evelyn's dismay, the
first time talking to Jack she turns warm from the inside
out and the way he calls her 'Evie' makes her knees go week.
With etermination and a sure force of self control, Evelyn
decides she is willing to do any thing it takes to get
Jack's help.
Jack Harding has always had a way with words so being one of
London's top barristers is not unexpected especially since
he is good at what he does. Jack's docket is always full.
That full docket is one of the main reasons he declines to
help the lovely Lady Evelyn Darlington. Jack doesn't have
time to prepare for a murder case but the fact that Evie
makes his heart stop when she enters a room indicates she
would be a distraction, something he never allows.
Unfortunately, Evie makes some good points
about why Jack should take her soon-to-be-fiancé's case but
when she uses her father, Jack's mentor, as a reason to help
her Jack has no choice, he is going to help her. Thankfully
Jack doesn't like to mix business with pleasure regardless
of how he is tempted.
IN THE BARRISTER'S CHAMBERS, Tina Gabrielle's first book in
the Barrister series, is refreshing and unique. The
characters are witty and smart but its Gabrielle's spin on a
Historical Romance that guarantees that the anticipation for
the next book will be like waiting on pins and needles. I
fell in love with Jack and his friends. I look forward to
the next book.
SUMMARY
Courting Danger
Lady Evelyn Darlington’s first love was the law. But since
a woman scholar meets nothing but ridicule from men, she
has given up and chosen a future husband. Randolph seems
adequate for the task: to provide intelligent conversation
and not annoy her too much. Of course, before they can be
engaged, she’ll have to do something about the murder
charge hanging over his head. If only London’s top
barrister wasn’t Jack Harding, object of all her
unattainable girlhood fantasies...
And Seducing Scandal...
Jack Harding remembers Evelyn well—but the idea that
the gorgeous woman standing before him is little Evie, the
professor’s daughter, is incredible. He knows better than
to enter a business relationship when he wants to pursue
pleasure. Yet however desirable she is now, Evie is still
Evie—stubborn, smart, and never willing to take no
for an answer. Even though proving her fiancé’s innocence
might just cost her her own...
ExcerptChapter 1
April 5, 1814
London, Old Bailey Courthouse
Honorable Tobias Townsend, presiding
"They ain’t whores!"
"What would you call seven women who live under your roof
then, if not a brothel?" Prosecutor Abrams asked, stalking
forward.
"Me lady friends, they are," Slip Dawson explained.
"All seven of them?"
"Me mum always said I ’ad a way with the ladies," Slip
whined.
"Did your mother tell you to freely share your women with
all the men of the City of London?" Abrams asked sharply,
giving the accused a stony glare.
An imposing barrister at the defense table jumped up. "I
object, my lord. The prosecution has not brought forth one
man ‘from the City of London’ to testify as to bedding any
of Mr. Dawson’s lady friends."
The judge sighed and rested his chin in hand, a look of
complete boredom on his face. Four of the twelve-member jury
rolled their eyes; others snickered.
Evelyn Darlington sat perched on the edge of a wooden
bench in the center of the spectators’ gallery. Her eyes
never wavered from the defense barrister—the only man
in the room she knew—Jack Harding. He was the reason
she was here, witnessing this spectacle, along with all the
other observers in the packed courtroom.
The late-afternoon sun streamed in through the windows,
raising the temperature in the crowded room by twenty
degrees. Too many unwashed bodies in too small a space
should have repulsed her.
Instead, she sat in her seat completely enthralled.
Jack Harding was precisely as she remembered him, as only
a few lines near his eyes gave away the years that had
passed since she had last seen him. He was tall—over
six feet three inches—with chiseled features that gave
him a sharp and confident profile. His eyes were a deep
green that reminded her of the ferns that thrived during the
summer months. His lips were curved in a smile, but she knew
they could be either cunning or charming, or both.
Beneath his barrister’s wig, she knew his thick brown
hair had an unruly wave that he had often impatiently
brushed aside when he was concentrating on a legal treatise.
He was dressed in a black barrister’s gown that would make
the complexions of most men appear sallow, but the dark
color only served to enhance his bronzed skin.
But perhaps his most fascinating appeal was his attitude
of complete relaxation as if he were unperturbed by the
judge, jury, prosecutor, and even the audience sitting in
the courtroom staring at him. He was infused with a
confidence that made one hang on every word that fell from
his lips. Without a doubt, Jack Harding probably had women,
from all stations in society, swarming around him.
A snort beside her drew her attention. "’E’s got ’em by
the throat, ’e does."
Evelyn turned to look at the man seated to her left, a
squat fellow with beady eyes and fleshy jowls. The
overpowering stench of onions wafted from his skin. He
smiled, revealing no teeth and swollen gums.
She shifted inches to the right only to brush up against
a heavyset woman with a bloodstained apron, sleeves rolled
up to her elbows, and work-roughened hands. A butcher’s
wife, no doubt.
"’Tis a matter of time till old Abrams gives up." The
woman laughed and rubbed the calluses on her hands. "Ain’t
nobody can git past that Jack Harding."
Just like old times, Evelyn thought. Jack Harding could
charm the habit off a nun and cunningly argue the most
complicated legal points while doing so.
But that’s why she was here, watching him...waiting for
him. For the years, it seemed, had only polished his raw talent.
The rest of the trial went as expected. Prosecutor Abrams
argued about Slip Dawson’s entourage of female inhabitants.
Jack countered each argument by pointing out the
prosecution’s distinct lack of evidence followed by a number
of witnesses who testified as to Slip’s "stellar" character
and good standing in the community.
Exactly eleven and a half minutes after the start of the
trial, the judge cleared his throat, cutting off Prosecutor
Abrams in midsentence.
"As all of the relevant evidence has been presented,"
Judge Tobias said, "I ask for the jury to deliberate on the
charges and come to a verdict."
The jury, not bothering to leave the courtroom, huddled
in the corner.
In what must have been record speed, the foreman
stood—his barrel-shaped chest puffed up with
self-importance. "We the jury find Slip Dawson not guilty of
keepin’ a brothel."
The spectators burst into cheers, turning the courtroom
into a scene of chaos. Hands reached out to give Slip Dawson
a hearty slap on the back as he proceeded out of the
room—a free man.
The pounding of Judge Tobias’s gavel was a distant
thumping, completely ignored by the people.
Evelyn stared as Slip passed, a cockeyed smile on his
face, and she wondered how many of today’s observers were
patrons of his "lady friends."
Her gaze returned to Jack Harding.
Jack extended his hand to Abrams. The prosecutor looked
like he had sucked on a lemon, sulking in defeat, but he
shook hands with Jack nonetheless. Jack then bent to gather
his papers and litigation bag from the desk.
She waited until he turned to make his way out of the
courtroom, then stepped into the aisle.
"Mr. Harding," she called out.
He stopped abruptly, his gaze traveling over her face,
then roaming over her figure before returning to her eyes.
His lips curled into a smile.
"I believe you have the advantage of knowing my name. How
can I be of assistance, Miss..."
"Lady Evelyn Darlington."
His brow furrowed in confusion before his eyes widened in
surprise.
"Why, Lady Evelyn! I don’t believe it. You were a girl
the last time I saw you. It’s been a long, long time."
"Ten years since you were a student studying under my
father to become a barrister at the Inns of Court."
"Ah, yes, my pupillage. From what I remember, you always
had a voracious appetite for the law. You often visited your
father’s chambers, listening to his lectures. I have vivid
memories of you following me around, taunting me with your
extensive legal knowledge."
Heat stole into her cheeks at his words. "From what I
recall, you needed the additional tutelage."
He laughed, a rich, pleasant sound. "Touché, Lady Evelyn.
I probably did. Now please tell me, have you come today to
watch the proceedings? Many do."
She shook her head then looked up at him. "I’ve come to
seek your services."
"My services? No one seeks out my ‘services’ unless they
are in trouble. I cannot imagine you in trouble." A sudden
frown knit his brow. "Last I heard, your father, Emmanuel
Darlington, inherited his brother’s title and is now the
Earl of Lyndale. I understand he is currently lecturing at
Oxford. Is he well?"
"It’s not about my father, but a close acquaintance."
"Ah, I see. What crime has your friend committed?"
"None! He’s been wrongfully accused."
"Pardon, Lady Evelyn," he said. "I meant no offense. What
crime has he been accused of?"
She looked to both sides, her eyes darting nervously back
and forth, then whispered, "Murder."
He cocked an eyebrow. "A serious offense, to be sure. Who
is he?"
She took a deep breath and gathered her courage. "My
soon-to-be betrothed."
He stiffened visibly, and a shadow crossed his features.
"I’m very sorry, Lady Evelyn, but my docket is completely
full. Murder trials take a significant amount of time to
properly investigate and prepare, and I would be remiss to
even consider representing your acquaintance."
A thread of panic ribboned through her. "But you must. If
not as a service to an innocent man wrongfully accused, then
as a favor to a girl you once knew."
"I can refer you to a number of proficient criminal
barristers. I am not the only—"
"Then as a favor to my father, your former pupilmaster."
He hesitated, and she knew she had struck upon a nerve.
Her father was a revered Master of the Bench—otherwise
known as a Bencher—by many students, and she knew Jack
was no exception. From what she recalled, Jack Harding owed
Lord Lyndale even more than most.
He shifted the papers in his hands, then nodded. "I
cannot promise anything, understand, but perhaps this
conversation would be better suited elsewhere."
Relief coursed through her that he was even willing to
further discuss the matter. "Yes. Certainly."
His hand cupped her elbow, and he led her out of the
courtroom. As they weaved their way through the halls of the
Old Bailey, she was conscious of his tall frame beside her,
his firm fingers on her sleeve. She glanced up at the
clear-cut lines of his profile and was once again struck by
his air of authority. In this legal arena, he radiated a
strength that drew her eye, impossible to look away.
He slowed his pace so that she could keep up, and a group
of barristers waved as they passed. A voluptuous woman with
a scandalously low bodice, a bright yellow flower tucked
between her breasts, gave Jack a jaunty wave.
Evelyn couldn’t help but ponder whether she was one of
Slip Dawson’s "lady friends."
"You are quite popular, Mr. Harding," Evelyn said.
"I am known as the people’s lawyer."
"At the expense of the Crown’s prosecution?"
His humor apparently returned, his eyes lit with laughter
as he looked down at her. "You must not judge me too
harshly, Lady Evelyn. From what I gather, my reputation is
the very reason you sought me out today."
He was correct, of course. She had done her research. No
other barrister, within the two jurisdictions covered by the
Old Bailey—the City of London or the County of
Middlesex—was a more successful criminal barrister
than Jack Harding.
"You’re right," she said. "I would be nothing short of
lying if I said I hadn’t followed your accomplishments over
the years. I just never anticipated that I would so urgently
require your services."
And she did desperately need his aid—a life
depended upon it. For that reason alone, she refused to take
no for an answer. She must convince Jack Harding to take the
case, no matter the cost.
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