Sweet as Honey (The Seven Sisters) - By Caitlyn Robertson Page 0,41

wedding that was definitely going to go ahead because she loved Dex and Dex loved her, and that was all that mattered.

Chapter Seventeen

An hour later, Honey’s protective shield was wobbling under the direct onslaught of resentment and even anger from ten of the other jury members.

They’d entered the jury room after being counselled by the judge to concentrate on the matter at hand—namely whether Sarah Green was guilty of intending to do James Hill serious harm on the night in question. The judge directed them to focus on the facts and only the facts—in other words to leave their emotions outside of the jury room.

Honey couldn’t do it. How could she? Sarah had turned distressed eyes on the twelve men and women as they’d shuffled from the courtroom, worry written all over her face. Would she be able to tell how each of them would vote just by looking at them? Honey had an idea how the decision would go, and her suspicions—and fears—had been confirmed when they seated themselves at the table and Tom, the foreperson, suggested they start by taking an initial vote to see where everyone stood.

She and Alice, an older woman with grey hair, had voted Sarah innocent.

The other five women and all the men voted her guilty.

And so here she was, sitting at the table, being glared at by the majority of the jurors who were fed up and wanted to go home.

“Shit.” Matt—the aggressive investment banker—stood and slammed his chair under the table. “I knew it. What a fucking waste of time this is going to be.”

“There’s no need for that sort of language,” Tom said. “Everyone is entitled to their opinion. We’re here to talk about the evidence and make sure we all come to an agreement.”

Honey was determined not to let the brash suit browbeat her. “This is a woman’s future we are deciding here,” she said as calmly as she could manage. “Surely it warrants at least a small amount of discussion before we come to a decision.”

“That’s true,” one of the women said. “It’s fair that we at least talk about it for a little while.”

Matt leaned on the workbench where there were coffee-making facilities and biscuits, and his eyelids lowered as he surveyed Honey.

She could guess what he was thinking, because he was like a carbon copy of Ian. That she must be having her period because she was being obstreperous. That she was doing it just to annoy him. And that she was the worst sort of woman—opinionated, un-charmable and stubborn.

As she lowered her gaze, intimidated by his hard stare, she knew he would also think of her as a challenge, someone he could bully into doing what he wanted.

Her fists clenched in her lap. She forced her fingers to unfurl, poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table and drank it slowly.

There were two Peters in the jury. The one they’d all named Peter1 wore scruffy workman’s clothes and had stated he worked in the building trade. He had a devil-may-care attitude and Honey suspected that he probably had half a dozen girls on the go who didn’t know about each other, but she found herself liking him nevertheless. He leaned forward and also poured himself a drink before saying, “So do you two really think Sarah didn’t mean to take that knife to James?”

Honey glanced at Alice, who sat a few chairs down from her. The older woman looked flustered, and Honey thought maybe she had voted Sarah innocent because she couldn’t bear to be responsible for sending someone to prison.

Alice glanced back at Honey and shrugged. “I don’t know. I just think it’s worth talking about.”

“He was a bastard,” said Babs, a mutton-dressed-as-lamb blonde, pursing her red lips, “and he deserved it. He’d obviously been asking for it. But I don’t think I can say hand on my heart that she didn’t do it on purpose.”

“But he’s proved himself to be manipulative,” Honey said. “Sarah’s counsellors testified that she’d been under his thrall for years.”

Peter2 snorted. The owner of a small computer store who obviously thought himself an expert on the law because he read legal thrillers, he wore a suit he’d clearly worn for every smart social occasion for the last ten years that stretched a little too tight across his stomach. “What do you mean ‘under his thrall’? This isn’t Twilight. He hasn’t hypnotised her.”

“Some people are more easily influenced than others,” Honey said. “Sometimes in a relationship, it’s