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Chapter 20

Barrister Williams and Williams had been family friends and solicitors since the first duke, when the two names on the sign had belonged to the ancestors of the man currently in the office. Williams the elder was retired now, but his son

Charles, a man slightly older than Authur himself, kept the name on the sign out of respect and simplicity.

After several years at Oxford, there would be a new Williams in the office, and it hardly seemed necessary to repaint.

Charles ushered him in to the oak-panelled office and seated him in a heavy leather wing chair before taking his own seat behind the enormous desk. ‘And to what do I owe this honour, your Grace?’

‘I have a problem, Charles.’

‘We have a problem, then. As I must always remind you, do not feel that you need face these things alone. Your problems are ours also.’

‘This one, I might. The utmost discretion is required.’ ‘Discretion is my watchword.’ Charles replied.

Authur smiled. There were times at Oxford when discretion was the las
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