The Librarian's Spell Patricia Rice (top 100 novels .txt) 📖

from the arrow Dingo shot at me. He’s in the audience and can confirm it. I prefer to hope his testimony of the incident is sufficient.”

The chuckles in the audience grew closer to guffaws.

The judge looked as if he’d suffered enough. Sourly, he flung down the documents he’d been reading and nodded at the bailiff. “This farce is adjourned. Take the arguing parties to my chambers. In the face of witness testimony and evidence, the plaintiff has no case.”

Uncle David stood, enraged. “You can’t do that! You haven’t even heard my side.”

The judge tossed a stack of documents at him in annoyance. “Read these. Your nephew has done just as he promised—produced a marquess, an earl, the head of one of the most esteemed academies in the kingdom. . .”

Percy? Was he talking about the bespectacled bore who had needed Max to prevent him from being regularly beat up?

“. . .and a distinguished representative from one of our wealthiest districts to bear witness in his favor.”

Dingo? Dingo’s parents had royal connections and wealth. Max didn’t dare turn and glare at the bully. Proving this case meant Max would be rich again. He also had aristocratic relations worth cultivating. Appearing to support Max would be just the thing a politician would do. Civilization still had its downside.

But Lydia cancelled all negativity.

“You, on the other hand, Mr. Franklin,” the judge continued, “bring me numbers and testimony from toadies who wish to continue doing business with you. You may appeal, of course, but I recommend you join us in my chambers to determine how and when the estate’s assets are disbursed.”

Max didn’t dare believe it was done so easily, until Rainford slapped him on the shoulder and Ives shook his hand. The stoic Hugh Morgan stood and waited, prepared to follow the judge and begin counting Max’s money.

“It’s all over but the shouting,” the marquess declared, pounding Max once more for good measure. “If you need investment to mine that shale, let us know. Although I’d advise building an easier access road on the slope so people might actually reach the place.”

As everyone crowded out the narrow aisle, Percy came up to congratulate Max. “I talked to your son Bakari yesterday. Quite an interesting lad, more so than you ever were, old chum. When you’re ready to send him off to school, I hope you’ll consider mine. We pride ourselves on an eclectic body of students with the intelligence and background to lead international diplomacy into the next century.”

Dingo joined them, grinning broadly. “I’ll sign his references. We’ll need diplomats in the future who can navigate Egypt’s murky waters.”

“He’s six years old, drat you,” Max cried, pushing them out of the courtroom into the hall. “He can’t even ride a horse yet. And just because his skin is brown doesn’t mean he isn’t as English as. . .”

Dingo grinned and smacked Max on the back. “You don’t have to defend yourself anymore, Dwarf. Just accept our goodwill and kiss your lovely bride for us.”

Shouts of “He has a gun!” rang out in the high-ceilinged hall.

As one, Max’s friends and family pulled weapons from their tailored suits and formed a phalanx to guard Max, as if he were royalty.

They didn’t count on gunshots ricocheting off marble pilasters.

Thirty

“They’re coming,” Lady Agnes said placidly, clicking her knitting needles. “Positions, ladies.”

Lydia rolled her eyes at this prediction. She could not see outside the hall to the road up the mountain. Still, if she accepted the lady’s odd gifts, she had to listen. At the urging of her new cousins-in-law, Lydia took the enormous throne of a chair the ladies designated as hers.

A deputation of Malcolms had remained at the castle to defend Lydia from impostor testers. Lydia had tried to tell them she could handle this, but one did not tell forces of nature like Lady Phoebe and Lady Dare that they weren’t needed. They were enjoying themselves too much.

Lydia glanced ruefully at Miss Trivedi, who was handing her more documents to sign. “You realize if I fail this test, that the solicitors will go to court to stop me from transferring the trust to Mr. Morgan?”

“You won’t fail,” Miss Trivedi said with certainty. “The trust’s solicitors chose the wrong side and must pay the price.”

Lydia admired the ruby on the bookkeeper’s ring finger. “That is new, isn’t it?”

The Hindu lady smiled briefly. “Your wedding and too much champagne finally persuaded Mr. Morgan to ask. We are to be wed in autumn. I have insisted that he must meet my family, so we will leave for India shortly after the nuptials.”

That alarmed Lydia more than the impending arrival of the testers. “What about Max’s investments? And the trust? How will we know how much we have to spend on the tower?”

“Everything will be prepared and in good hands before we leave. Do not worry. And Mr. Ives is a very astute businessman. He simply prefers that other people manage the paperwork. We will have competent solicitors to assist his endeavors, and there is always the telegraph.”

“And Lady Dare’s studio? Weren’t you helping her look for abused women?” Lydia asked in concern, darting a glance to the photographer, who was busy setting up equipment.

“Now that Azmin understands her gift, anyone can be her assistant. She’s employing one of the school’s art students, plus a normal photographer. She’s more involved with finding abused women and helping them than doing studio portraits.” Miss Trivedi placed the signed documents into her folder.

The door knocker pounded the ancient plate, followed by the tolling of the entrance bell as the visitor discovered the rope.

“Anxious, aren’t they?” Lydia said, almost amused. “I’m amazed they’re still functional after all they imbibed yesterday. And very bad wine it must have been. Mr. C didn’t like wine, so it’s been moldering down there for decades.”

“Better than drinking your whisky barrels dry,” Lady Phoebe said, coming to stand by them.

“Oh, Mr. Folkston emptied those for the reception. We need to restock.” Lydia nervously watched the wide foyer entrance.

“Your reception was quite grand. You