Jealousy was not the proper term, but perhaps it was a longing, a wondering for what could have been if he’d stayed with Chapin and Baines. He held no desire for children—his time as the only son of Archibald Grant, Sr. had driven the urge for progeny from his blood—but he wished for that stability, the satisfaction that came with a job well done, a legacy in this world. Nathan Landon, with his bespoke suit and paisley silk necktie, emerald stick pin and gold pocket watch, may be bored, but he didn’t appear to be bothered by a life of drudgery.
He took another sip of port and stifled his wince. “Would you take a divorce case?”
“Lord, no. Messy business, divorce.” Nathan screwed up his features. “Is that what you’re up to these days?”
“Well, I’m considering it.” He ran a hand through his curls and tugged the ends. “I had an interesting case come through my door today.”
He explained the Marigold’s situation without mentioning their shameful prior meeting, and Nathan listened with rapt attention, his port abandoned.
“Difficult,” Nathan said, “but not impossible. Can you prove the infidelity?”
A thrill took root in Archie’s fingertips. If Nathan was interested in the case, perhaps he would help. “I think so.”
“Excellent. And the abuse…” He cringed. “If there are no witnesses to an assault, the argument usually fails.”
“What if he threatened to hurt her, or the children?” Archie cut in. “Would the fear be enough to constitute cruelty?”
Nathan pointed at him, his eyes brightening. “Interesting angle. You’d need a scientist to argue mental harm is like physical harm, with bruises and such. Who is the bloke from Austria?”
“Freud?” Archie suggested, and Nathan nodded.
“That’s the one. Someone like him, who understands the mind. Most of the high court judges love that sort of testimony. If you find a head doctor, you’d have a chance. A slim one, but a chance.”
The faint hope in Archie’s chest sparked and began to put off light. “So, would it be worthwhile to pursue this?”
“Absolutely.” Nathan drained his port and signaled for another, while Archie declined. “Think of the publicity this case could give you. Your name would be splashed over every newspaper in England.”
His stomach turned, thinking of a stuttering voice and flushed cheeks. “The lady won’t want that publicity.”
Nathan scoffed. “If she wants a divorce, she’s going to get it. Everyone will be talking about the lady who left her husband. And, more importantly, her intrepid barrister who won her freedom.”
Archie tugged at his hair again. “This would consume my life. I wouldn’t be able to take on any other cases.” Lord, but that sounded lovely.
“Then don’t. You’ll make all the money you need from this case. I assume she can pay you?”
“She has some funds, but I doubt they’re significant.”
“The money will come from a settlement after.”
“And what if I lose? I haven’t tried a divorce before. I could be left with nothing.”
“A solid effort will be enough to attract attention.” Nathan shrugged. “Maybe even get some attention from your former employers.”
Archie frowned. “Would Chapin and Baines take me back?”
“A case like this would impress them,” Nathan said with a shrug. “Prove you’re ready for bigger cases, more excitement. More reward.”
Risk rarely slowed him down, but Archie’s mind was spinning, its careening path leading him closer to the decision he knew he’d make as soon as she’d walked into his office.
He wanted this case. Not for the fame, not even for the intellectual stimulation.
But for her.
He wasn’t finished learning about her, understanding her, making sense of her actions. If she walked away from him now, he never would. Working on this divorce meant Marigold Torcross would be a fixture in his life, at least temporarily. If it brought him fame and fortune, all the more reason.
Nathan leaned forward, bracing one hand on his knee. “Do whatever it takes to win this case. And if you can’t, call as much attention to yourself as possible. Put the most inflammatory witnesses up for testimony, put the mistress on the stand. Whatever it takes, Archie. And whether you win or lose, your name will live in infamy.”
Archie hummed low in his throat. “I don’t believe infamy is a good thing.”
