Archie rubbed his temples. Nathan may be right, but the divorce had eclipsed protecting her children. Marigold deserved her freedom, and Archie wanted to be the man to deliver it to her.
“Listen, Archie. Mr. Chapin was asking me how you were doing.”
Archie perked up. “Mr. Chapin?” His former employer knew about this case?
“There’s a lot of money to be had in divorce, if one can do it right. The partners are talking about expanding their practice, and I suggested you would be the perfect person to take the lead.”
The air rushed from his lungs. “Me? Nathan, I’m not going back to Chapin and Baines.”
“You say that now, but think of how hard this is to do alone.” He gestured to the haphazard piles of papers, the scribbled notes tacked to the wall beside his desk, the stack of legal books Jasper had “liberated” from the Leeds Library. “Wouldn’t it be nice if you had a team to work with you, enough funding to work without wondering how you’ll pay for supper?”
Archie thought of the sardines on toast he had forced down earlier that day, and a touch of wistfulness took hold.
“It won’t be like before, Archie. We’d love to have you back.”
A vision flooded his mind, not of the prestige he’d get working at a renowned firm again, but of his mother at rest, with all the tea from Betsy’s he could drink. Of Samantha being courted by a man worthy of her, wearing whatever hat she liked. Of Eloise, her arms overloaded with new books.
Nathan pointed at his face and gave Archie a smug grin. “I see that look. You’re considering it.”
“I am.” He sat back, ran his hand over his jaw. “But I need to win the case, don’t I?”
“You do. And if I can give you a piece of advice,” he leaned forward, propped his elbows on the desk. “Leave the wife’s emotions out of it. The judge won’t like it, and neither will the partners. Tears have no place in a hearing.”
“Doesn’t she deserve to be heard?”
Nathan pulled a face. “If she insists, you must persuade her to remain calm. If she’s too wound up, the whole business appearstorrid, salacious, like those ghastly gossip papers. You want attention, but not that kind.”
Archie shook his head. “It seems shortsighted.”
“Think about your future. Your family’s future.”
Damn if the man didn’t know him so well. “Understood.”
Nathan beamed. “Win this case, Archie. And there will be nothing stopping you.”
Chapter 21
Marigoldrolledoverandgroaned, white-hot knives stabbing into her lower abdomen. A bead of sweat slid down her forehead as she fought the urge to retch again.
A knock sounded on her bedroom door, only adding to the agony of her megrim. “Milady?” Bea leaned around the door frame and winced. “Oh dear, you still look terrible. Worse, even. I take it you’ve not had any relief?”
Marigold shook her head, unable to summon the strength to remind Bea she shouldn’t comment on her employer’s state of absolute wretchedness. “Not yet,” she managed.
Pains of this sort were not unusual, but remained unwelcome. Following Matthew’s birth, her courses became irregular, and sometimes she would go months without having her flux. But her body rebelled, as though punishing her for having been born with female reproductive organs.
The housekeeper hummed. “I’ll make you some more tea.”
Marigold only managed a low moan in response. She’d had so many cups of tea at this point she was drowning in it, but it never brought her any relief. A doctor had offered her laudanum before, but she refused anything that would leave her dulled; enough experiences with the tonics her husband had secured for her fits of “hysteria” had left her terrified of lacking control of her body. She would suffer through the next week and emerge on the other side a wisp of her former self, only to go through the same misery in several weeks.
Her haze of illness broke hours later with a knock on the front door, immediately below her bedroom, followed by Bea’s greeting.
Marigold winced. As Archie had warned in a letter, now that her case was on the public docket, she could expect reporters would attempt to speak to her. She’d been startled but touched by the presence of two burly men taking shifts at her front door and driving the publicity away, particularly when she learned they were under Archie’s employ. But after three days in which her doorstep was constantly busy, she’d sent them away as there had been no disturbances, even by her barrister.
She hadn’t seen Archie since she left him in Rotherham two weeks ago. She should be grateful for this transformation in their relationship; obviously they couldn’t handle the level of proximity they’d shared while working on this case. Distance was for the best. No matter how much she ached for his kind words, wished for his warm, reassuring touch.
“She’s not well, Mr. Grant,” Marigold heard Bea say, followed by a deep, rumbling voice.
She scrambled from the bed, stumbled as vertigo and nausea clutched at her, but found her way to the window to peer down.
