A Scandal By Any Other Name

Lord Farrington walked into the room.

He firmly believed his immense political power and his massive, hidden wealth could still save him. He thought he could bribe the right lords, twist the laws, and walk out of this chamber as a free man. He looked at the rows of benches, expecting to see familiar nods of support from the men he drank with at his clubs.

Farrington ignored their silent judgment. He stopped in the exact center of the room, standing confidently behind the small wooden defendant’s stand. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

The Chancellor reached under his high, carved desk. He pulled out a book. He placed it carefully on the wooden pedestal right in front of him, turning it so all the gathered peers could see it.

His crossed arms fell loosely and weakly to his sides. His breath hitched painfully in his throat, making a sharp, choking sound. His face, which had been full of proud, angry color just a moment before, turned a sickly, pale white.

"This House has closely reviewed your private ledger," the High Chancellor declared, resting his heavy, wrinkled hand on the black book. "It details years of high treason against the Crown. It shows massive tax evasion, and it outlines a vast, highly illegal smuggling empire. We also have the full, sworn confession of your coastal warehouse manager, Mr. Higgins, and your entire smuggling crew. The Crown Guards have already seized your hidden French silks."

"That... that book is not mine!" Farrington stammered. His voice was trembling badly, echoing weakly in the large room. "It is a clever forgery! It is a wicked plot created by my political enemies!"

The soft, incredibly clear voice floated down from above.

Standing near the curved wooden railing, looking directly down at him, was Lady Celine.

"Celine?" Farrington whispered in pure shock. His hands gripped the wooden edge of the defendant’s stand. "What are you doing here?"

Farrington’s mind completely snapped. The betrayal hit him much harder than a physical blow. His own daughter, the quiet, terrified girl he had controlled and emotionally abused her entire life, had destroyed his empire.

"I gave you everything! I protected you! And you chose to come here and slander me?"

"You murdered Edward," Celine said clearly, her voice echoing beautifully in the quiet hall. "You murdered the kind boy I loved, and you made me believe it was my fault. You are a monster, Papa. And today, the monster finally burns."

"Your Lordship," Rowan, the Duke of Ford, spoke smoothly. He bowed his head respectfully to the High Chancellor. "I have brought a witness to this House today to testify about this murder."

She was dressed in a brown dress and a plain bonnet. She walked timidly, her eyes wide with fear as she looked at the hundreds of powerful men staring at her.

"Silence the accused," the High Chancellor ordered sharply. He looked at the young woman kindly. "Please step forward to the witness stand. Do not be afraid. You are under the absolute protection of the Crown."

"State your name for the official record," the High Chancellor ordered smoothly, picking up his quill pen.

The High Chancellor folded his hands on his desk. He looked at Miss Flora with sharp, highly strategic eyes. He needed to build the case perfectly for the listening lords.

"Yes, Your Lordship," Flora answered, nodding her head nervously. "I kept it hidden with me for three long years."