30

MATTHEW BARELY HEARD Mr. Bancroft excuse himself from the room. Still seated at the courtroom table, he stared blankly ahead at the witness stand where Deirdre had just admitted to being in love with him.

His heart thudded as emotions waged a battle in his system. Was she telling the truth, or had she perjured herself to save him from doing the same?

Either answer proved as dire as the next. The idea that she could truly be in love with him caused elated chills to rush through him one moment and his muscles to seize in a form of paralysis the next.

What was he supposed to do with this terrible knowledge? Knowledge that he had the power to ruin Deirdre’s life—since nothing but certain heartbreak could come from loving him.

A fact Priscilla could attest to if she were still alive.

He took in a deep breath and looked around. The room had emptied save for two women at the back. He needed some fresh air, even if only for a few minutes, to gather his emotions and mentally prepare for his upcoming testimony.

His injured leg throbbed as he limped out the door and down the main corridor. The people in the hall became nothing but muted background noise to the battle raging in his head.

He had turned a corner when the sound of Mr. Bancroft’s voice stopped him.

“Congratulations, Miss O’Leary. Your testimony may have single-handedly saved our case.”

Matthew peered around the corner to see the pair huddled in an alcove, obviously unaware they could be overheard. He stepped back so they wouldn’t see him, unwilling to face them before he’d regained his composure.

“I’m glad,” he heard Deirdre say. Yet something about the shakiness of her voice belied that statement.

“I must say, you’re quite the actress to pull that one off.” Mr. Bancroft chuckled.

His words sent a barb straight to Matthew’s heart. Had his lawyer coached her on what to say in the event the judge asked that particular question? It certainly seemed like he had.

Which meant that Deirdre had lied after swearing on a Bible. Why would she do such a thing?

Because Deirdre loved Phoebe more than anything.

Enough to risk lying on the stand.

He leaned back against the wall, his breathing shallow. Everything about this farce had felt wrong from the beginning. He couldn’t let it go on any longer. He had to release Deirdre from this charade and rely on God’s mercy to help him win his case.

By the time the judge called the court back into session, Matthew had carefully strapped down his emotions so that when he took the stand, nothing but an icy calm remained. Staring out over the room, Matthew felt Deirdre’s gaze on him, but he refused to look at her.

The court official swore Matthew in, and Mr. Bancroft came forward to lean an elbow on the wooden railing.

“Dr. Clayborne, we’ve heard one account of your story. I’d like to hear your version of the events.” He straightened. “What was the state of your relationship with your late wife?”

Matthew unclenched his hands in an effort to relax. “It’s no secret my marriage was not a love match. Priscilla and I were fond of each other and quite compatible, or so I thought. We viewed our marriage as a partnership, one that would benefit us both.”

“When did things begin to deteriorate?”

Matthew stiffened on the chair. “Rather quickly, I’m afraid. Priscilla was resentful of the many hours I was required to be at the hospital during my final year of medical school. When I graduated, and the war was still on, I wanted to use my skills to help the injured soldiers, so I signed on as a medic with the Canadian Army Medical Corps.”

“Against your wife’s wishes?”

“Yes. I felt it was my duty to my country.”

“And when you learned that your wife was indeed expecting, what did you do then?”

“I attempted to get a leave so I could be home for the birth.” He risked a glance at the Pentergasts. “Unfortunately, the leave was postponed until mid-December. I thought the timing would be better since I would be home for Christmas with my wife and child.”

“How did you feel when you first met your daughter?”

The memory of looking into baby Phoebe’s eyes for the first time rose in Matthew’s mind, gripping him with the force of that love. “It was the best moment of my life,” he said hoarsely.

“So why did you return to the war?”

Matthew bristled. “I had an obligation to fulfill. Every man fighting had left someone behind. Why should I have been any different?” Visions of dying soldiers clutching faded photos of loved ones, begging to write one last letter home, still haunted Matthew.

“And when you returned after being injured, why didn’t you join Dr. Pentergast’s practice?”

“I had benefited from physical therapy that allowed me to regain the use of my leg. I hoped to do the same for the injured soldiers at home.”

“I see that as an admirable choice. Your wife, however, did not.”

“No.”

Mr. Bancroft continued to rehash the events of Priscilla’s illness and death. Matthew answered all the questions as succinctly as he could.

“Let’s jump ahead now to when your boss asked you to treat the wife of a friend. Why did you agree to take the position with the O’Learys in New York?”

Matthew drew in a deep breath. “My daughter had suffered a setback in her health. Her physician suggested that country air would help. When I learned the O’Learys lived on a horse farm, I thought I could benefit both my daughter and Mrs. O’Leary.”

“I see. And did it help?”

Matthew smiled for the first time. “Indeed. Phoebe was like a different child—both physically and emotionally.”

“So it was a good decision, then?”

“Very much so.”

“And now to the subject of your recent engagement. Could you tell us how this happy event came about?”

A band of tension seized Matthew’s shoulders. The decision that had been so firm in his mind now wavered. He risked a glance across the room at Deirdre. Her forehead was wreathed in lines, her eyes a mirror of anxiety. His gut twisted, firming his resolve. He couldn’t keep her trapped in the snare of this deception. He had to set her free.

Matthew lifted his chin. “I’m afraid our engagement has been a mistake.”

A loud gasp sounded. Mr. Bancroft stared at him as though he’d lost his mind.

“Miss O’Leary and I share a friendship, as well as a great love for Phoebe, but we entered into a betrothal for the wrong reasons.” Unable to look at Deirdre or his lawyer, he turned to the judge. “Please understand I meant no disrespect, Your Honor. We both feel strongly that my daughter’s well-being depends on her staying with me. And when it was suggested that marriage could help me win this case, I acted perhaps too quickly.” He paused. “While I care deeply for Miss O’Leary, I don’t think either of us is ready for such a commitment.”

The judge frowned. “What are you saying, Doctor?”

He let out a slow breath. “I am releasing Miss O’Leary from the engagement.” Against his will, his gaze swiveled to Deirdre.

Instead of seeming relieved, she appeared horrified, her hand covering her mouth.

Tension swirled through his system. Had he done the right thing? He turned back to the judge, who studied him with a look of disappointment.

“This is a most unusual turn of events, Dr. Clayborne. And I must say, it gives me pause to think you purposely entered into an engagement solely to sway the courts.”

Matthew’s pulse pounded in his ears.

“However, the fact that you would go to such lengths to keep your daughter does speak to your commitment.”

“Phoebe is the most important thing in the world to me.” His voice cracked. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe and happy.”

Mr. Whitmore popped up from his seat as though he could no longer contain himself. “I must object, Your Honor. This man has lied, and that woman”—he gestured toward Deirdre—“has perjured herself. The child has two upstanding grandparents ready to take her in.”

The judge shook his head. “I need some time to consider all aspects of this case before I render my decision.” He turned to Matthew. “You may step down, sir.”

Matthew willed his legs to support him as he rose from the chair. Mr. Bancroft had resumed his seat, his scowling countenance proving he was less than pleased at this unexpected development. As Matthew moved to take his place, he risked a glance at Deirdre. His heart clutched at the hurt and bewilderment on her face.

He forced his gaze away and sat down.

The judge gathered his papers and addressed the room. “This court is in recess. Miss O’Leary, I’ll see you in my chambers—immediately.” He banged the gavel and rose.

Matthew shot to his feet. What did the judge want with Deirdre? Surely he wouldn’t arrest her?

Staring straight ahead, Deirdre walked to the front of the courtroom, where the court official led her out a side door.

Helpless despair raced through Matthew’s body, turning him hot then cold. He raked a hand through his hair, wishing he could charge out the door after her. Protect her. Tell the judge it was all his fault.

He sank onto the chair and let his head fall into his hands, using the only tool at his disposal to help her.

Lord, don’t let Deirdre suffer for my mistakes.

Nerves threatened to swamp her stomach as Deirdre followed the judge into a spacious back room. What had Matthew been thinking? He’d destroyed their carefully constructed plan with one sentence.

“Please have a seat.” Judge Blackthorn removed his robe and hung it on a hook. He adjusted the sleeves of his suit jacket and then took his seat behind a massive desk.

Deirdre sat on the edge of the guest chair, clutching her purse on her lap. She inhaled deeply to calm herself, drinking in the aroma of pipe tobacco and lemon oil—scents that evoked memories of her father’s study back home.

The man took his time before speaking, shuffling a few papers and books on the desk before pinning her with a narrow-eyed gaze. “Now, young lady, tell me why I shouldn’t arrest you for perjury.”

Her heart hammered hard against her ribs, but she held firm. “Because I didn’t lie.”

He peered at her. “You lied about your engagement.”

“I respectfully disagree, Your Honor.” She held up her left hand, still containing Matthew’s ring. “There was an engagement, albeit a rather unconventional one.”

The judge inclined his head. “You have a point. However, you expect me to believe that all your answers were truthful?”

“Yes, sir.” Deirdre bore his regard with quiet dignity. “If you review the answers I gave, you will find I did not utter one falsehood.”

His features appeared to soften. “So you are in love with Dr. Clayborne?”

Deirdre winced at the uncomfortable truth. She lowered her gaze to her lap. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Why? Does he not return your feelings?”

She recalled their one amazing kiss and Matthew’s subsequent rejection, and gave a quiet sigh. “I . . . expressed my interest, but Dr. Clayborne did not seem to reciprocate.” Sudden worry for Matthew overshadowed everything else, and she leaned forward. “Please, Your Honor, don’t hold this against Matthew. He wasn’t in favor of the engagement idea in the first place.”

The judge studied her again. “Tell me, Miss O’Leary, if I were to decree that Phoebe must live with her grandparents, how do you think it would affect the child?”

Deirdre’s heart squeezed so hard she could scarcely catch her breath. Was he leaning toward granting the Pentergasts custody? She longed to be able to tell him they were terrible people and he shouldn’t allow them anywhere near Phoebe. But that simply wasn’t the case.

She closed her eyes, trying not to feel like she was betraying Matthew. “I think,” she said slowly, “once Phoebe adjusted, she would eventually be fine with her grandparents. They love her dearly and are acting in what they consider to be her best interest.” She drew herself upright. “But I do fear the Pentergasts may try and turn Phoebe against her father, since it’s clear they bear him a huge grudge.” She leaned forward again, determined to plead Matthew’s case. “I beg you, Your Honor, don’t take Phoebe away from her father. She’s already lost one parent. Don’t make her lose another.”

Despite her best efforts to remain in control, the backs of her eyes burned with the threat of tears. She swallowed hard and sat back on her chair. “I hope I haven’t overstepped.”

The judge’s features bore no anger. “No, Miss O’Leary. It’s clear you love the child, which is commendable. I will give your words their due consideration.”

She squared her shoulders. “Does that mean I’m free to go?”

A smile broke out over his weathered features. “Since I can find no evidence of perjury, I won’t be arresting you today.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.” A relieved sigh escaped as she rose.

“Miss O’Leary?”

“Yes?”

“If I were Dr. Clayborne, I wouldn’t be in such a hurry to terminate your engagement.” He sent her a wink that heated her cheeks.

“Thank you, sir.”

She wished she could say something else that might influence his decision in Matthew’s favor. But since there was nothing left to do, she walked out of the chambers and closed the heavy door behind her.

“There you are.” Matthew surged forward as Deirdre exited the judge’s chambers. He’d spent the last twenty minutes pacing the corridors, praying the bailiff hadn’t arrested Deirdre and whisked her off to jail.

Deirdre stopped. Her eyes widened as though she was surprised to see him.

He came closer. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” A blush spread across her cheeks.

She hurried past him, and Matthew fell in line beside her. “Well, what did the judge want?”

“To discuss my testimony.” She kept her chin high as she walked.

He gripped her elbow and pulled her to a halt. “Please tell me he didn’t order your arrest.”

“You mean after you purposely derailed our plan?” Her sarcastic tone matched the fury snapping in her eyes. “No, Matthew. I showed him the ring and assured him we didn’t actually lie about being engaged, although the nature of the engagement might not have been as it appeared.”

“What else did he say?”

She shrugged. “He asked me some questions and sent me on my way.”

“What type of questions?”

Her gaze slid past his shoulder. “About you and the Pentergasts.” When she finally looked at him, the anger in her eyes had turned to misery. “I’m sorry, Matthew. I couldn’t lie. I told the judge the Pentergasts only want what’s best for Phoebe.”

He sucked in a long breath. She’d advocated for his in-laws against him? The thought seared pain through his midsection.

“But I also told him Phoebe belonged with you. I hope he’ll take my opinion into consideration when he makes his ruling.”

He should have known better. It was against her nature to lie, which was why her earlier testimony confounded him. “What about . . . the other things you said under oath? Did he ask you about that?”

She stilled, her gaze sliding to the patterned floor. “The judge knows everything I said was the truth.”

“Everything?” he rasped out.

She raised her head. “Yes.”

Matthew’s mouth went dry as a flood of fear rushed through him.

Defiance flashed in her eyes. “No need to panic, Matthew. My feelings are my responsibility. I will handle them.” With that, she took off at a fast clip down the tiled hallway.

Matthew raked a hand through his hair. He should go after her and tell her . . .

Tell her what?

That he loved her, too, but didn’t deserve her? That he wasn’t sure he could ever be a good husband? That he didn’t think he could make her happy?

And what about her career? How could he dismiss her goals over such uncertainty?

Slowly he made his way back to the main corridor, where Mr. Bancroft waved at him. “Dr. Clayborne. The judge just sent word that he wishes to speak to your daughter in his chambers before he issues his ruling.”

Matthew stood silent for a minute, attempting to absorb the ever-changing events. Like a boat being tossed on the waves of a storm, he was powerless to stop the momentum and terrified of the outcome.

“Very well,” he said with a weary breath. “I’ll go and get her.”