The duke sat through this development looking bored. He’d muttered his consent when asked if he waived the confidentiality every lawyer owed his clients, which was proof everlasting that His Grace’s wits had taken wing. With His Grace’s waiver noted in the record, Cranmouth could be questioned on any topic that bore a passing relation to Rothhaven’s competence.

The three commissioners conferred for a moment to debate whether Rothhaven’s waiver was valid in such a proceeding. When Lord Nathaniel added his waiver as well, they concluded that Rothhaven wasn’t yet legally incompetent, so the waiver of confidentiality must be allowed to stand.

Lord Nathaniel offered Sir Leviticus Sparrow as counsel for the alleged disabled party, alas for the brave knight. Sir Leviticus had never once touched a competency case.

As Mr. Able Drossman, head of the panel of examiners, droned on to the jury about the differences between lunacy, idiocy, and imbecility, Neville risked a glance over his shoulder at Phoebe. Drossman was white-haired, fleshy-jowled, and smarter than he looked, though he was fond of his port and harbored judicial ambitions.

Phoebe smiled down at Neville with particularly gracious warmth, and he resisted the urge to blow her a kiss. Weatherby suggested that Cranmouth testify first, as the court’s witness, and old Drossman was so pleased with that notion that he allowed Weatherby to start the questioning.

And wasn’t that just lovely? Cranmouth droned on about the ducal books—for the most part quite tidy—though he did slip in the fact that never once had he been called to Rothhaven Hall until the last week or so. As a witness, Cranmouth struck a balance between wanting to aid the court and wanting to protect his client’s privacy, despite any dubious waivers of solicitor-client confidentiality.

“And did there come a time when His Grace visited you at your office?” Weatherby asked.

Cranmouth darted a glance at the ceiling, then looked down, and then over at Drossman. The great Mr. Garrick, late of Drury Lane, could not have presented a more convincing show of hesitation.

“He did.”

“And the nature of that call, Mr. Cranmouth?”

“His Grace signed the documents required to divest himself of a commodious estate some distance to the northwest of York.”

“Was there anything unusual about the transaction?”

Yes. Yes, indeed there had been, as Weatherby, Neville, and soon the whole of York would know. The Duke of Rothhaven had given away an entire functioning estate with a sizable manor house and home farm.

“Had the previous duke made any similar transactions?” Weatherby asked.

“I should say not. The previous duke was quite mindful of his assets.”

“And after your appointment with His present Grace, can you relate when you next saw your client?”

The coughing, throat clearing, and foot shuffling in the room stopped, as if everybody knew exactly what damning testimony would follow.