“You came,” Constance said, popping to her feet and seizing the man by the arm. “You came. Thank God and Miss Abbott. You came. Sir Leviticus, may I present to you Mr. Alexander Fulton, maths instructor at the Greater Wilburn Friends Scholastic Academy, and friend to His Grace from years gone by. Did Mrs. Fulton accompany you?”

“Helen’s in the gallery.” Fulton squeezed Rothhaven’s shoulder. “Robbie, my friend, what a pass, eh?”

“You just missed a seizure,” Constance said. “His Grace is not at his best.”

Fulton looked around the hall. “And the crowd doubtless gawked all the while.” He waved to his wife, a small, blond woman with vivid blue eyes. “Well, we’re here now, and we can tell the lot of them what you put up with for all those years. Bloody Soames, beg pardon for my language. Helly still has nightmares.”

“Mr. Fulton,” Sir Leviticus said, “we haven’t much time to prepare if you’re to testify. A few questions, please?” They moved to the corner of the room, Mrs. Fulton joining them.

Weatherby and Philpot were also exchanging whispers, sending curious glances in Mr. Fulton’s direction.

“You sent for…?” Rothhaven gestured toward Mr. Fulton.

“Alexander Fulton,” Constance said. “Yes. I had Miss Abbott track him down, but I didn’t mention it because I wasn’t sure she could find him in time. I only let Sir Leviticus know I’d done so after today’s proceedings began. Are you angry?”

“Impressed.” Rothhaven kissed the back of her gloved hand. “Grateful.” He sat up as the members of the jury, one of them finishing a meat pie, resumed their places in the jury box. The bailiffs began chivvying the crowd to their seats, and Constance wanted to bellow at them to cease their foolishness.

Rothhaven wasn’t ready to testify again, not nearly. Every minute of delay at this point would aid him, though Drossman seemed bent on hurry, and Weatherby doubtless sensed the advantage he’d just gained.

“Where’s Stephen?” Rothhaven asked.

“He’s…” Constance looked about. Stephen was in conversation with Lady Phoebe. Dear God, what could he be about? “He’s here, has been here for the whole proceeding.”

“Good.”

And then they were out of time, with the bailiff bidding everybody to rise, and Constance having no choice but to rejoin Quinn, Althea, and Jane in the gallery. The air had grown closer as the morning had progressed, and both Althea and Jane were wielding their fans before Constance resumed her seat.

“He’s not ready,” Constance muttered, as the commissioners shuffled to their places, and Sir Leviticus began to prose on about the need to suspend the proceedings in fairness to the allegedly disabled duke. Weatherby was spluttering before Sir Leviticus had concluded his argument, and Drossman’s expression said he had no patience with the pair of them.

“Jane,” Constance said. “Now, please.”