Chapter Twenty-Nine
Trentham wished he’d told Mr. Derry to come earlier.
Eli had gone out, so he had no one to converse with to kill time.
Although maybe he’d burdened Eli with enough.
With the music room empty, he passed an hour playing the harp, but it did nothing to settle him.
He spent the rest of his wait wandering aimlessly about his house, even striding once through the main hall to rub the marble heads of his progenitors, a half-forgotten good luck charm from his youth, while conjuring up, then discarding theories of what the solicitor might have to say.
Perhaps Felicity’s physician had come forward offering to testify.
Or an angry husband, preferably a peer, might be naming Sir George in a suit for loss of consortium—although that possibility made him shudder, touching too close to the past he wished he could forget.
At last, just before the clock struck eleven, Trentham retreated to his study.
He sat in his father’s uncomfortable chair, and sank his head into his hands, elbows on the desk.
He was still in that position, praying quietly and probably too incoherently for even God to decipher, when Henson announced Mr. Derry.
He stood and gestured to the chair opposite his desk. “Come in. Have a seat. Henson, will you bring coffee?” Trentham didn’t need coffee; he needed something in his hands to fidget with.
Derry sat, laying his bag over his knees. Although especially dapper today in a dark jacket and a white shirt with the over-starched hint of newness, he still looked grim. Never mind that Lynch had said that the knotted brow indicated enthusiasm.
“Good morning, Your Grace.”
“Is it?”
“I believe so.” Something that might have been a smile whisked across his face, then disappeared. He opened his bag and pulled out a small pile of paper. “I presume you are aware of the details of Lady Townes’ marriage contract.”
“Not all the details, no.” He’d been a toddler in leading strings when Felicity married Sir George. He frowned. “I mean, I am aware there was one, but I don’t know the specifics. I do know that her marriage settlement was structured as an equitable trust.”
If not for their father’s machinations to create this separate estate, Sir George would have had full legal ownership of Felicity’s money as well as her body.
A married woman was a feme covert. Marriage made two people one.
And that “one” was the husband. Left to his own devices, Trentham would never have bothered to question that ancient legal tradition.
Most men didn’t, or wouldn’t. But Lynch was fighting hard to change the law, to get rid of coverture.
And, of course, Lynch’s stance was the right one.
As matters stood, even with an equitable trust, Felicity’s property was under a man’s control. His. Which didn’t seem fair.
“I became the trustee when my father passed, but I’ve tried not to interfere. I do know that my sister’s marriage portion is substantial.”
Their father had been generous with Felicity, despite whatever reservations he may have had about Sir George.
Derry nodded. “The income is two thousand per year. Have you any idea where that money has gone?”
“Well, no. As I said, I don’t interfere.” He felt guilty now. Should he have stuck his nose into her affairs? “I assumed Cavanaugh would have alerted me if there was a problem.”
“Then let’s start with this.” Derry sorted through the papers, then placed two of them on the desk, turning them so that the words were upside-right for Trentham. He tapped one with his fingertip. “These are promissory notes. Signed by Sir George. He has been borrowing from Lady Townes’ estate.”
Trentham skimmed the words for himself. Sir George was in debt to Felicity’s estate for over ten thousand pounds. “Is this legal?”
“Unfortunately, yes. There were no restrictions written into the contract. Your sister is entitled to use her own discretion regarding the funds. Even had you stepped in as trustee, unless you could prove coercion, the court would likely find that she is within her rights to loan money to her husband, or even give him the money outright. There is precedent for this.”
“He coerced her.” But he wouldn’t be able to prove it.
Derry pulled the papers back. “More concerning is the fact that he had to borrow. Lady Townes’ income, along with Sir George’s funds, should have been more than enough to keep up with expenditures.
So I did a little digging. The Dainswick property is entailed, and the income from it has fallen in recent years.
Moreover, Sir George is known to be a spendthrift who makes hasty, risky investments.
And there are gambling debts and payments to mistresses. ”
“She is supporting his mistresses?”
“In a sense, yes.”
“Good God.” Trentham sorted his thoughts. “What you are saying is that Sir George is a fool to want a divorce. Yet he must know all this. And he still intends to file suit.”
“He’ll be considerably financially disadvantaged.
But not bankrupted. Let me explain.” Derry set two different pages before him, and pointed to one.
“These are trifling debts: tailor, jewelers, and such. It’s probably not worth going after those.
They won’t press for payment. But these”—he indicated the other page—“are the gentlemen to whom he owes debts of honor. He’ll prioritize those. ”
Gambling losses. Which Trentham could see were substantial.
“Do you think gambling is why he had to borrow from Felicity’s estate?”
“Undoubtedly. He is robbing Peter to pay Paul. But he is far from being in desperate straits. He can make interest payments. Sell family jewels if a creditor becomes too insistent.”
Trentham merely nodded. Sir George was not the only gentleman to gamble himself destitute. And yet, fellows hung on for years, juggling debt, tapping family and friends, or marrying well.
Derry paused as Henson entered with a tray of coffee and biscuits. To Trentham’s surprise, the solicitor accepted a cup and plate. How very sociable of him!
Taking his own cup, Trentham said, “And where does this lead us?”
Derry sipped his coffee, then set the cup on the desk. He missed the water mark by several inches. Trentham tried to ignore the vague unease that this caused. He kept his own drink in his hand.
“I think you should buy up his debt.”
“Buy up…Ah!” Of course! “And then call it in all at once?” Trentham smirked. There would be great satisfaction in that. Ruining the man. His smile fell away. “But I don’t see how that helps Lady Townes’ case.”
Derry’s expression shuttered down. He shook his head. “Frankly, it is not in my client’s best interest to allow her suit to proceed. Her case is not strong or likely to grow stronger.”
Not strong? Guilty as the man was? “But we have what we need. Witnesses to his cruelty and infidelity.”
Derry said nothing, but merely waited, looking down at his papers.
Trentham squeezed the arms of his chair, furious, until the memory of Eli’s disgust with him intruded.
Those witnesses, those unwilling witnesses, would be doubly harmed.
Felicity herself would be harmed. It was his anger fueling this desire for vengeance.
Deep in the recesses of his conscience, he felt a moment’s sympathy for Gilliam, who had surely been driven by similar thoughts of revenge.
He blew out a breath. “So, then, what is the new plan?”
“My recommendation is to threaten him with calling in the debt if he files for divorce.”
Trentham scowled. “So you mean she should stay with him. Even knowing what he is.”
“Legally and reputationally, this is the best option for your sister. They may maintain the status quo. Or better, separate, but remain wed. You will have perpetual hold over Sir George, so long as you carry his debt. And this can all be handled quietly.”
It was blackmail. It was sordid. Gad! It was binding two unwilling people together in marriage. He was king of that.
Yet Derry was right in that it was the most sensible route.
“I’ll have to speak with Felicity first,” he said, though he could anticipate what she would say. He pursed his lips. “I’ll arrange another meeting through Mrs. Gorse and Mrs. Whyte.” He thought they might be enjoying the excitement, though it was unkind of him to imagine so.
“It would be best to do it quickly.” Derry gathered back his papers and returned them neatly to his bag. “As far as the rumors already circulating, if they can feign a reconciliation, Society will soon lose interest. Then they can go their separate ways.”
Lynch was right. The fellow knew his business. “I expect they will manage to be seen together at a ton gathering.” Perhaps at his own wedding to Lady Elizabeth.
The solicitor rose, pulling at his jacket to straighten it.
“Good. If you would let me know your sister’s decision, I’ll talk to Cavanaugh and your man of business.
We’ll buy up Sir George’s I.O.U.’s before he gets wind of what’s going on.
The quicker we start, the better. Then I’ll alert Claxton, Sir George’s solicitor, and present your conditions.
That should put a stop to all this. Unless, of course, Lady Townes wishes to pursue things further. ”
*
Mrs. Gorse and Mrs. Whyte were eager to assist. Trentham went through the same nonsense to sneak into their home, while Felicity was again invited for a supposed luncheon with her neighbors.
The sisters left Trentham to wait in their parlor alone, with tea and cakes.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long.
Felicity looked terrible. She’d lost weight that she couldn’t afford to lose. She had dark hollows beneath her eyes. There was gray in her hair he hadn’t noticed before. Of course, he didn’t say this. Rather, as she came into the parlor, he went to take both her hands in his. “I have good news.”
Her eyes brightened, just a little. “Do you? Thank God. I need some good news. Julia is ill from nerves. She doesn’t know everything, but she has overheard enough. Naturally, George is blaming me.”
Trentham swallowed a burning knot of anger. “Come, sit.” He led her to the davenport, then took the chair beside her. “I’ll tell you what Derry found. Then you tell me what you’d like to do. I’ll support whatever choice you make.”
He repeated what the solicitor had said about Sir George’s debts. And how simple it would be to convince George to change his plans.
“But that puts you in a terrible position, Robin.” Felicity sighed. “And you’ll be stuck with bad debt—”
“Neither of which matters a whit. Don’t worry about me. Tell me what you want.”
She rose from the davenport and walked to the window.
Looking out, she said, “As much as I despise George, I don’t want to be a divorced woman.
Not if there is another way to settle this.
” She turned to face him again. “You remember what it means to be an outcast. It would be even worse for me than it was for you. And it would be terrible for Julia. The boys’ prospects would likely also be damaged.
George may not care, but I do.” She inhaled.
And exhaled with a shaky, nervous laugh.
“Thank you, Robin. This is a tremendous weight lifted. I’ve been dreading going through a trial. ”
Trentham nodded. That much, he understood. “I’ll go talk to Derry.”
*
Trentham went straight from seeing his sister to the solicitor’s office to let him know her decision.
Much as he needed to talk to Miss Delancey, his own problems had to wait.
Thank God, her father was supposed to have arrived in London yesterday.
A family reunion should keep them all occupied and away from ton rumor-mongers.
He couldn’t imagine what she would think of him if she heard of his betrothal from anyone else.
Actually, he could imagine it. He just didn’t want to.
And it was all such a wicked twist of Fate!
If only Derry had proposed this solution one day sooner.
Then he would not have been coerced into proposing to Lady Elizabeth.
But now, he’d asked and been accepted, and their solicitors were involved.
If he were dishonorable enough to break the engagement, Barrington could sue him for breach of promise, Elizabeth would be humiliated and even less marriageable, and he would be involved in yet another scandal, another legal battle, indefensibly guilty as before.
He thought he’d done penance enough for Fanny, but apparently, the punishment was never-ending.
Once more, he entered the stately building he’d visited with Lynch.
He announced himself, and a clerk hurried off to find Derry.
The solicitor emerged almost at once from an inner office.
If he’d been with another client, the fellow would naturally take second place to a duke.
They stepped into an empty room and shut the door.
“I’ll be quick,” Trentham said. “Lady Townes no longer wants to sue for divorce.”
Derry smiled a genuine, toothy smile—Lynch wouldn’t believe it. “I’ll speak with Cavanaugh in the morning. And bring you word directly when we have the promissory notes. It won’t take long.”
“Thank you.” Trentham shook the man’s hand. “Good day. And sincerely, I thank you.” It would be the best resolution. And he was not above taking some petty satisfaction from holding Sir George’s debts.
That was accomplished, but Trentham wasn’t half done.
That had been his good deed. Now, he must face Miss Delancey.
He checked his pocket watch on his way out the door.
His stomach was rumbling. It was late for luncheon, but too early for tea.
Never mind the time. He would go to his club for a quick bite to eat, then perhaps home, to change his clothes, and then, to Lynch’s. His heart sank down to his feet.
He was stalling. But he may as well allow her another hour or two to enjoy her father’s visit, before he told her…what? That he was honor-bound to wed Lady Elizabeth after all?