Because if he wasn’t there to protect them, tobelievethem, who would?
“No,” he said, getting to his feet. His mind was beginning to move, spinning and spiraling, but this time with a purpose, a vague destination in sight. “The law doesn’t believe that—yet.”
Jasper sat back in his chair. “Archie, no. We’re not in a position to go on a wild goose chase to create a new law.”
“This isn’t new law, it’s establishing precedent, redefining existing law.” He scrambled his hands over his desk, looking for a blank piece of paper. Finding none, he flipped over the blueberry scone complaint and began scribbling with a pencil stub he found in hispocket. “The system is already biased against women, requiring twice as much cause to secure a divorce. Narrowly defining abuse makes it even more difficult, particularly when women are encouraged to keep it secret from their neighbors.”
“Why would they keep it a secret?”
Archie looked up, and Jasper must have recognized the deep emotion running through his veins. “Shame. A woman who is abused believes she’s done something wrong, something that displeased the man who promised to love and care for her. Who would admit to that?”
He pulled some loose coins from his desk drawer and shoved them in his jacket pocket with the blueberry scone notes, took another bite of the sandwich, and headed for the door, his mind racing and blood pumping.
“Archie, what are you going to do?” Jasper cried as Archie reached the threshold.
“I’m going to go find the marchioness!”
Chapter 6
Alightstillburnedonthe third floor of Croydon House, one block off St. Helen’s Square. Archie had watched that light for too long now, the appropriate window for visiting long since past. He’d needed less than an hour to track down the Marquess of Croydon’s York residence and mere minutes to march up to the front door.
But he couldn’t knock. What would he say?
I want to help you.
Why did you lie to me?
What did I do wrong?
Instead, he’d sat on a bench halfway down the block and watched as the lights extinguished, leaving the single window glowing. Was that Mary’s—
No, there was no Mary.Lady Croydonlived in that house, a house her husband owned. The protective shell around his heart,delicate on the best of days, thickened a bit with that thought. He’d only started to piece himself together after she’s left him that night.
Was he truly considering bringing her into his life, even as a client?
Archie pushed to his feet with a groan, startling an elderly gentleman walking his basset hound across the street; after giving the man a weak wave of apology, he set off towards the luxe double doors of the pub at the end of the block, hoping a decent pint would shake him out of his vacillation.
He wove past the banquette tables with their plush quilted seats to the bar, leaning against the brass rail to catch the bartender’s attention. Through the racks of liquor, he caught his reflection in the mirrored surface, the waves in the copper paneling distorting his features. Could he still recognize the man he’d wanted to be as a boy? All he had was a collection of what hedidn’twant, what he couldn’t be. Now? He was about to walk away from a woman in need.
“Archie? Is that you?”
He stood and laughed, his mood instantly lightened. “Nathan Landon, as I live and breathe.” He clasped the man’s hand and embraced him with the other. “How long has it been?”
Nathan gestured towards the empty stool by Archie’s side, and when he nodded, the man sat, then signaled the bartender, who suddenly paid them attention. “Well, you walked out on us seven months ago, if the tally on my desk is accurate. We still have a seat for you, if you want it.”
Archie’s cheeks heated as he considered his friend. Nathan had been the first to welcome Archie onto the rugby team at Yorkshire College, and the man had encouraged Archie to take up the study of law. When he’d graduated, Nathan’s recommendation had landed him an apprenticeship with Messrs. Chapin & Baines, one of the finest firms in Leeds. They’d only recently opened an office in York proper, with Nathan and Archie the most promising barristers in the firm.
Until Archie grew bored and quit.
“I still have a jersey in your size,” Archie said, “if you feel like joining the Rovers again.”
Nathan chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound that reminded Archie of the years of shared friendship between them. “I doubt it would fit over this,” he said, rubbing his protruding midsection. “Besides, my wife won’t let me crack my head into things when it’s putting supper on the table, yeah?”
Archie took a sip of the port that appeared before him. He hated port, but took another sip. “How is Eveline?”
Nathan leaned in. “Expecting again. So if you have some clients you can send my way, keep this starving man in mind!”
He hoped his responding laugh conveyed some of the happiness he felt for his friend, but Archie’s insides twisted. Nathan lived in a palatial home down the River Ouse with his wife and son—and soon would welcome another. Rumor was his name was likely to appear in the letterhead alongsideChapinandBainesbefore long, a legacy to be proud of, one his children would celebrate. A man worthy of pride.
