“I withdraw the question,” Weatherby said, “because I assume the panel can ask His Grace directly to account for his whereabouts. A man who imposes on his family the very great grief of his death as a jest in poor taste is not a fellow of sound mind.”

Drossman put his glasses back on. “You will confine your role to that of counsel, Mr. Weatherby, and spare us your opining. Sir Leviticus, your witness.”

Another lawyer rebuked, and that pleased the gallery and the jury.

Sir Leviticus established that the Rothhaven dukedom under the present titleholder prospered handsomely enough to make a charitable gift of even a large, remote estate. He also got Cranmouth to admit that Robert’s father had appeared quite sound of mind in all regards, sound enough to vote his seat, oversee multiple estates, and supervise the upbringing of his children. The old duke had not, alas, been as proficient at managing the family’s wealth. Cranmouth was convincingly reluctant to part with that confession.

Dr. Warner, looking handsome, calm, and helpful, testified next. Seizures, in his expert opinion, were difficult to treat, and if they appeared in childhood, they seldom admitted of a cure. Repeated seizures often resulted in diminished capacity over time. Confusion, hostility, and loss of the faculty of speech, such as Cranmouth observed in His Grace, were sadly common in persons cursed with epilepsy.

All very tragic.

Sir Leviticus forced Warner to admit that he’d treated a grand total of five cases of epilepsy in his two decades of practice, and further, that seizures could result from many causes other than the falling sickness. Warner was therefore not in a position to diagnose His Grace with the falling sickness, much less do so by innuendo.

The gallery liked seeing the doctor put in his place as well, more’s the pity.

Weatherby rallied, though, asking Warner if he was professionally familiar with the late Dr. Obediah Soames. As it happened, Warner had read the many august treatises on mental derangement Soames had penned, and had heard Soames’s private madhouse described as a model of compassionate care for the insane. Soames’s death had been a great loss to the medical community.

A great loss, indeed.

What would Rothhaven and Wentworth relations think if they learned that Soames’s name had been passed along to Neville by no less personage than Lord Stephen Wentworth, and that his lordship’s motivation had been to prevent a mésalliance between the Wentworths and not merely a family afflicted with madness, but the madman himself?

“And why did you purchase Dr. Soames’s establishment?” Weatherby asked.

None of your damned business. Robert couldn’t say that, but ye gods, he wanted to. What prevented him was the sight of Constance in the gallery, pale, composed, and doubtless ready to do Weatherby a grievous injury at the slightest provocation.