Daughter on his Doorstep (HC #2)

23: English Mancipación Punishment

Edward Thorne did not spare the trembling woman a glance. He kept his smile, which turned somewhat patronizing at the edges, on the magistrate.

"I did not say that there would not be women on board, your honour, only that there would not be slaves."

Thomas' eyes flashed heavenward before he could stop himself. Thankfully, the magistrate was frowning at the duke and did not notice.

"Explain," he ordered.

The duke once again dipped his head, dutifully following the magistrate's orders. "The vessel does transport women, your honour – even Spanish women, on occasion – but they are simply factory workers. They are not slaves."

The magistrate's fingers brushed across his velvet waistcoat. For the first time, his frown had passed from sceptical to thoughtful. To Thomas, that change did not bode well.

"An interesting argument, Lord Thorne." He cast an even look at his attendants. "Make a note of that."

"No!" Thomas leapt forward, his arm reaching out in the direction of the aides as if he could physically keep them from writing down the duke's lies. With the eyes of the deck on him, he gathered himself quickly and focussed on the magistrate. "Your honour, that is not true. I implore you to speak with the women and you will learn for yourself that they are held against their will."

He swallowed heavily, unable to prevent his gaze from darting to the duke. To his horror, his sire had seen the cracks in his composure and clearly revelled in them, his gaze narrowed in victory. Thomas tore his attention back to the magistrate, who acknowledged his request with a wave of his hand.

Thomas turned to the Spanish woman, who was watching them all with wide eyes. "Abrienda," he said gently, trying to keep the desperation out of his tone. "Are you here by choice?"

The woman, whose upper arm was still held tightly by the constable, stared back at him with the same intensity he felt. She knew, he was sure, the importance of this moment. "Lo siento, Tomás, no entiendo."

But importance did not implicitly convey understanding.

Thomas threw a gaze over his shoulder at Vincent, hoping he had some way forward.

"Does she speak English?"

The magistrate's tone sent a wave of irritation down Thomas' spine, but he reminded himself that he was the Spanish women's last hope. He bowed his head slightly as he replied, mostly to hide the anger in his eyes. "No, your honour, or at least not much."

The Duke of Thorne let out a sigh worthy of the greatest player. "Your honour, this is a ghastly waste of your time. If the woman cannot even communicate, how on earth can her testimony be taken?"

"Or perhaps you have intimidated her to silence," Thomas snapped, his fists clenching at his side. "It is difficult to believe anything you say given how your story keeps changing."

"A misunderstanding." The duke did not even look at him, his apologetic gaze fixed on the magistrate. "That I have already explained. There has been no crime committed here."

"And if that is true, I shall determine it in due course." The magistrate's fingers interlocked, settling on the swell of his belly. "Do you speak Spanish then?"

The question was directed at Thomas, though he'd never get a chance to answer it.

"I'm afraid I must protest, your honour!" Edward Thorne quickly fixed the crack in his composure, putting his calm, dukely façade back in place before he continued. "Thomas has already told such preposterous lies that I could not be guaranteed an honest translation. I do not think your honour could consider him... reliable."