A rumble of laughter came from Lily’s throat. “I keep picturing that buffoon coming back from trying to destroy the hive, covered in stings. Is he still terrified of it?”
Marigold forced a smile. “He is.”
Once, when the marquess returned from a morning ride having been stung on the hand, he’d taken a cane to the sturdy wood structure to destroy the nest. The bees wanted no part of his disruption, leaving every exposed inch of his skin covered in stings.
When relaying the tale to her sister, however, Marigold had left out several pertinent details.
How she’d sobbed in terror as he stalked towards the colony. The malicious glint in his narrowed eyes as her pleas fell on deaf ears. How, when she’d offered to help him treat the wounds, he’d ordered her locked in her bedchamber without supper.
How, whenever Marigold committed some lapse, he would order Addington to build a bonfire under the elevated hive, then stand at the garden’s edge with a lit torch while she begged for forgiveness.
She held those shameful parts secret.
Lily’s lips spread in a malicious grin. “I’d like to strip the oaf naked and tie him to that hive and sit back and enjoy a whisky while he screams.”
Marigold choked out a laugh. “Gracious, that’s sp-specific. And d-dark.”
Lily shrugged. “I’ve had ample time to devise ways to punish wayward husbands.”
“Seeing the marquess in the nude would be more p-punishment for you than my b-bees could cause.”
A shudder racked Lily’s sturdy frame. “Very true. He has to pay women to see him naked.” She winced. “Christ, that was horrid. I’m sorry.”
“D-don’t be.” Marigold sighed, squinted at the play on the field, the streaks of burgundy and black, green and white blurring into impressionist nothingness. “I haven’t heard any rumors of him straying recently, b-but I’m sure he is.” Having caught him in the act once before, she preferred not to know if he kept a woman on the side. Best not to confirm another area where she’d fallen short.
“You’ll want to find out. You can use it against him in court.”
Lily leftif you can find a barristerunsaid. Marigold had cultivated a list of the finest barristers in northern England and set out writing to each one, certain she’d have no issue finding legal representation.
Most never responded to her inquiries, and the others rejected her outright.
Sensing her hopes for a simple resolution dissolving into mist, Marigold had gathered up her children and fled to her sister’s estatein Lancashire where Reggie ensconced himself in the library and Matthew clung to his aunt’s side like an overactive shadow, before their mother whisked the boys off to America to give Marigold some peace.
And Marigold worried. About Reggie, with his insatiable and complicated mind, and how he would survive if his father forced him to attend the unforgiving Felton College. About Matthew and his unfathomable energy and steadfast belief in the kindness of others. About finding someone to help her end the marriage that slowly sliced pieces of her soul away.
“You’re chewing your fingers again.”
Marigold jolted at her sister’s gentle reminder, then withdrew her gloves from her skirt pocket and slid them over her battered fingernails. “Thank you,” she murmured, and Lily nodded, not taking her eyes from the pitch.
“Driving yourself mad with worry won’t help.”
“I need to worry. I can’t find a b-b-barrister.” Marigold chewed on her lower lip, released it before it could grow as raw as her cuticles. “Even if I can, the chances of winning the case are infinitesimal.”
“What if the marquess agreed to divorce you on his own?”
“He never would. I d-don’t think he b-believes I’d leave him.”
Lily pushed her tongue to the inside of her cheek. “You could push the horse’s arse a bit. Noblewomen carry on affairs all the time.”
Marigold recoiled. “I’m not having an affair.”
“You could. Nothing is stopping you.”
“Exceptmorality!”
“Pish.” She waited for a pause in the game, then turned to Marigold. “That bastard cheated on you. Many times. Does he have a mistress now?”
Her stomach clenched. “I d-d-don’t know. I can only assume, but I have no p-proof.”
