He raised one brow. “Cocksure, eh?”
A blush erupted on her fair cheeks, and she cleared her throat. “I stand by it.”
The eyebrow dropped. “Of course. Shall we go again?”
“I don’t want to st-stutter.” She scrunched up her face in displeasure and picked at her fingernail. “I hate this part. You’re certain you can’t speakfor me?”
He nodded, then walked around his desk to kneel at her feet. He’d spend the rest of his lifetime there if she’d let him. “You know I can’t. But we’ll practice until you’re ready.”
She cupped his cheek, kissed him once, but resisted when he tried to tangle his tongue with hers.
“Again.” Marigold cleared her throat. “My lord, I am seeking to end my marriage to the Marquess of Croydon.”
They practiced until she had her wording down, but anxiety plucked at Archie’s gut. Her testimony may be smooth, but he knew Croydon’s barrister would seek to rattle her, bring out the emotions that only heightened her stutter.
He hadn’t told her about the fear keeping him awake at night. He was certain the marquess would argue she was insane in order to prevent his own humiliation in the public eye, and if she stuttered on the stand or looked at all emotional, her husband would use it as evidence against her mental stability. A judge would much rather declare a woman to be of unsound mind and commit her to an asylum than confront a powerful peer of the realm, meaning Archie’s case would have to be unimpeachable.
Meaning he needed to stop touching her and focus.
He stood, hating to end their time together, but he had to catch the noon train if he was to make his appointments that afternoon. “I think you’re ready, and I need to get to London.”
She hissed out her breath. “I hate that you’re going there.”
He tugged her to her feet and let her soft body fall against him. She nuzzled against his chest. “I’m meeting with Dr. Brunner again, and I want to convince Pearl to testify—”
“Call her Agnes.” Marigold’s voice was muffled against his waistcoat. “And she’s looking for a new p-protector, so keep your wits about you.”
“She won’t steal me away.” He tipped her chin up. “I’m yours, remember?”
Her cheeks flushed. “But you can’t t-tell her that.”
He wanted to scream from the rooftops how he felt for her, but to what avail? She was leaving for America as soon as the case was over, and he could never follow, not with his mother and sisters to care for. But a small voice in his mind asked what would happen if he gave it all up, started over somewhere else. With Marigold at his side, nothing would be impossible.
But she’d never suggested he accompany her to America. In fact, the day before, while he’d been preparing the letters to be entered into evidence, she’d chatted with Jasper for over an hour about living in Boston or New York.
Their time was rapidly running out, and he’d begun to question what it was she wanted from him. A few nights of pleasure before she fled England? Or was there something more? He wanted to believe the latter, but without her reassurance, his self-doubt crept in, its insidious tethers latching onto him and scratching at his tender flesh. He was the son of a failed farmer, a struggling barrister who could hardly keep a roof over his mother’s head. What use would she have for him in her new, liberated life?
Archie walked her from his office and onto the street, grateful Jasper was out for the day and wouldn’t give him a guilt-inducing look. He knew his assistant disapproved of their liaising, clearinghis throat loudly whenever he entered the room and intentionally leaving the door open.
The overcast sky threatened rain, the air thick with humidity. “I’ll be back late tonight,” he said as he hailed a hack. He lowered his voice. “Will you come by?”
She flattened her lips, the flush crawling up her neck above the frilly lace collar of her dress. “I can’t. Not with the boys. Someone will notice.”
Who will notice?He wanted to interrogate her like he was in court. Her odd housekeeper wouldn’t object. But her sons… Would they understand if their mother was carrying on with another man? Would they judge her poorly for it?
Would they judgehim?
He had been slow to admit to himself how much he enjoyed teaching Matthew and Reggie to play rugby, sharing something of himself with them. And the chess game afterward only confirmed what he suspected: Reggie did not need his mother to speak for him, nor did he want it. Could Archie convincehimto testify on his mother’s behalf?
But Marigold had been insistent from the start, and he wouldn’t violate her trust. Putting her children in the public eye would be unforgivable.
A hack pulled up to the curb and stopped. After handing the driver coins and giving the address on St. Helen’s Square, Archie lingered over her hand as she stepped into the carriage. “I have a match in Leeds this Saturday. Will you come, bring the boys?”
Her lips parted. “Are you certain that’s a good idea? What if someone sees me with you?”
He leaned closer, watched the pink climb across her cheeks beneath the dusting of amber freckles. “No one is seeing us now.”
“Archie!”
