Chapter Twenty-Two #2
“I run in less polite circles than you do. And anyone who believes their servants don’t talk about them in taverns is sadly na?ve.
” Eli paused, then went on. “I learned too, that it is commonly suspected that Sir George is responsible for spreading the rumors in London. He has been paying his steward to sniff out, or, I’d say invent, whatever damaging information about Lady Townes that he could.
The timing of Lord Hayworth’s return was a gift to Sir George. ”
“You learned all this since yesterday?”
Eli dipped his head. “Last night. I’m not as useless as you think. You should ask more of me than you do.”
Trentham acknowledged this with a shrug. “Thank you. This gives me a starting place. Sir George is threatening Felicity with the loss of her children. I doubt she’d mind being shed of him otherwise. Except for the damage to her reputation.”
Saying that gave him a pang. Loss of reputation was more painful than one might imagine.
It was not given due consideration until it was gone.
Trentham’s head swam as distressing moments from his own fall from grace flashed before him.
His character assassinated—by his friends; his name becoming a byword for debauchery and ungentlemanly conduct.
He couldn’t bear to think of Felicity being put through that.
“Blast it! Sir George has no proof! How could he?”
“I think…” Eli paused. “Excuse me. It isn’t my place…”
“What do you think?”
“Lady Townes should run. Take Julia and run. Sir George has the force of law behind him. If he paints your sister as an immoral influence on his daughter…”
“An immoral influence! He wants to divorce Felicity to marry his pregnant mistress!”
“And how many peers, no matter how they might despise him, will deny him that right?”
Trentham shuddered. This was every old aristocrat’s nightmare: that his wife would find pleasure in the arms of a vigorous young man. That was why the philandering hypocrites had all been so quick to condemn him. That, and the fact that he’d been guilty.
Felicity would not run to Canada as he had.
Hiding her at Lannington would not work.
Sir George would flush her out. “She can have my villa in Italy. If she’ll go.
I’ll need to work out the details. Money.
An escort. Secrecy. Perhaps guards for Julia if he’s vindictive enough to try to kidnap her back. ”
Eli turned back to the piano. He rested his hands on the keyboard but didn’t play. Then he removed them from the piano and sat on them. Trentham understood his frustration. He felt it too.
Eli mumbled, “Maybe running isn’t the best plan. It was just the first thing that came to me. Your sister might not be willing to go.”
“Maybe not.” But he couldn’t think of anything else. And he’d promised the ladies he’d have an answer within the week. “I’ve got to talk to Lynch.”
“Come with me then. I’m due at his place for Miss Delancey’s next lesson in an hour.”
*
The sisters met them just inside the front door.
Miss Delancey was simply enchanting in a fawn morning dress.
No bonnet. No gloves. A temptingly sloppy chignon.
Her hair cried out to be set free of its pins.
As worried as he was, he nevertheless experienced that jolt of lightness her presence always gave him.
Now he wished he was attending the MacAlistair’s ball. Even one waltz…
They were expecting Eli. Trentham could see that his own arrival took them aback.
“Good day, ladies. I’ve come to see Lynch.”
“Oh, good,” Dessie said. “You’re not spying on Mr. Cameron. That’s my job today, since Milly is running errands.”
Trentham was quite certain she meant that to needle him. “Keep a close watch. He’s sneaky.”
With a grin, she said, “I will.” Then she gestured to the stairs. “Lynch is in his study. Go on up. Don’t forget tomorrow night’s dinner party!”
As if he could. He took himself off, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder to catch another glimpse of Miss Delancey before she disappeared.
The study was upstairs and down a long hallway. The floor squeaked under his feet the whole way. Lynch would know someone was coming. He paused in the doorway. His lodestar was waiting at his desk, looking up at the door, pen in hand, papers spread before him.
“Robin? What is it?”
“Sir George is threatening Felicity with divorce. He’ll keep her from seeing the children.”
“Damn him.”
“Exactly.” He drew a deep breath. “Eli says it’s Sir George himself spreading the rumors, because he wants the divorce to marry his latest mistress.
Lynch, I’ve always despised Gilliam for looking the other way when Stanley was hurting Fanny.
Yet I’ve suspected, for some time now…and I’ve done nothing…
” Gad, this was hard. “The truth is, I don’t know what to do.
” A quiet moment passed. “Other than breaking both his arms and smashing his face in.”
“I can see how that option would be tempting. But it won’t help anything.”
“Eli thinks she should run. I could offer her my cottage in Italy.”
Lynch shook his head. “She’s innocent of wrongdoing. Running will make her look guilty.”
“What option does she have?”
“How brave is she?”
“What do you mean?”
Lynch peered beyond him, tapping his pen rhythmically against the desk. Then he stopped and looked Trentham in the eye.
“We Brits are an unjust people. It infuriates me. Sir George can sue for divorce based on a single act of adultery—”
“Not even that,” he said, a knot of anger rising inside him.
“I’m speaking hypothetically. A man can be granted a divorce if his wife is unfaithful once. But he can sow his seed widely, and a wife has no recourse to the law. Unless he is unfaithful and also commits ‘bigamy, incest, or excessive cruelty’.”
“Yes, yes.” He didn’t need Lynch on his high horse speechifying right now.
“Sir George is a well-known philanderer—and he is excessively cruel.” Lynch let that sink in.
“Wait. You can’t be saying she should divorce him!” Aghast, his voice dropped low. “The notoriety—”
“Would be no worse for her than having to sit in court and listen to a steward lie about finding her in flagrante delicto with a viscount of an age with her sons.”
Trentham felt his blood drain down to his feet. “You’ve heard that?”
“No. Not yet. But I can imagine what Sir George would stoop to saying. If he has threatened Felicity with divorce, he must have invented a witness.” Lynch gestured to a chair near an unlit coal stove. “Sit down, Robin. And try not to protest until I’ve made my case.”
He walked stiffly to the seat. This was why he had come to Lynch, wasn’t it? His quick mind. His preternatural calm. No doubt he’d present an excellent plan in theory. But this was Felicity. Not some test case for his cause. He sat. “Go on.”
“This will raise a lot of prurient interest. No one who knows Felicity will believe her guilty. But those who don’t know her well, hearing this gossip repeated, will start to think there must be something to it. She should act first.”
“Speaking out will make her a martyr throwing herself onto the pyre.”
“Don’t interrupt.” He waited for Trentham’s nod, then went on. “I know the right solicitor for this.”
“Why not Cavanaugh? I trust him. And the Wormsleys have been using his firm for decades.”
“For financial matters. Not divorce. You need Michael Derry. He’s young, but smart. He’ll move quickly to put Sir George on the back foot. It will make the blackguard’s countersuit look like retaliation.”
Despite the slew of protests he wanted to make, Trentham bit his tongue and nodded.
“Felicity is strong, Robin. She can do this.”
“I fear the Wormsley name will count against her,” Trentham confessed. A name that had once been a bulwark against any suspicion of impropriety was now a detriment.
“I think that is more of a threat if Sir George gets in first with accusations of wanton behavior.”
Lynch stood and moved to the window. Trentham thought this must be his defense against direct eye-to-eye confrontation.
They needn’t repeat the argument they’d had last night.
He’d claimed the mistakes of his past were an albatross around his neck, and Lynch had said that was only because he let it be so.
“Robin, I can’t deny that there are echoes here of what you went through. But it isn’t the same thing. And that was a decade ago.” Lynch returned his focus to Trentham. “You need to keep your mouth shut. Felicity needs to speak up.”
“A lawsuit will require proof of cruelty. Witnesses. I don’t know that there are any.”
“We may be able to build a case regardless. Surely friends of hers can confirm they’ve seen her bruised. Perhaps she required a doctor at some point?”
Trentham groaned. If so, he should have known. Somehow, he should have.
“Moreover, she isn’t his only victim,” Lynch said.
“No decent woman will confess to having been his paramour. And the court won’t care about the testimony of an indecent woman.”
“Not one woman. Several. Strength in numbers.”
“And where will you find these women? The only memorable names from old gossip are the ladies least likely to volunteer to become involved in a scandal.”
“No, you’re right,” Lynch said, the first crack appearing in his certainty. “We’ll have to rely on his non-aristocratic doxies. But there may be direct witnesses. Servants who used to be in his household would be a good place to start. If we can locate them.”
“We can’t.” He felt a spark of hope. You should ask more of me than you do. “But Eli can.”
“So, then, here is the plan.” Lynch held up one finger. “Talk to Felicity. Make sure she is prepared to pursue this course.” A second finger. “Enlist Eli.” And a third. “Engage Michael Derry.”
He’d have to impose upon Mrs. Gorse and Mrs. White. “I’ll arrange to see Felicity as early as possible tomorrow.” A farfetched plan was better than none.