She searched his face. “I need to be your partner in this.”
“Of course, love.” He kissed her once, twice. “You’re brilliant and strong. No one makes choices for you anymore.”
Her lips parted in a smile. “And theboys—”
“I think Matthew will be a great rugby player some day,” he interrupted, and her eyes sparkled. “And I can teach Reggie a thing or two about chess.”
“Best of luck to you,” she said with a chuckle. “The boys would love to see the farm.”
Archie grinned and rolled onto his back, and she curled against him, laying a gentle hand on his bruised ribs. He hissed, but settled under her soothing touch. “They can chase Petunia together, then my mother will feed them until they burst.”
“We’ll find a home together,” he hazarded, and when she remained languid at his side, he continued. “Somewhere you can keep a hive.”
She hummed, pressed a kiss to his pectoral. “I’d like that.”
His chest was close to bursting with happiness, everything he’d never planned but now couldn’t live without was laid before him. A family he’d never expected, being a stepfather. A life he hadn’t anticipated for himself, but one he suddenly craved. But, as her eyes closed and breath slowed, Archie remained awake, staring at the ceiling for hours. Their shared future depended onhim, his preparation and focus, what would happen in that courtroom in two days’ time.
Because if he didn’t win her case, their first night together would be their last.
Chapter 30
Archiehadalovebite on his neck.
Of all the things to focus on as she waited for the hearing to begin—the row of bored-looking gossip reporters sitting at the back, the murmurs of various spectators lined up behind the benches, Archie’s nervous shuffling of papers at her side—all she could see was the love mark she’d left during their night together, peeking above the collar of his judicial robes.
Of course, to notice the mark, one would have to overlook the purple and green bruise blooming around the dark red slash across his temple. He’d refused to wear the full bandage because he worried it would be distracting, but now he looked like a back-alley brawler in a white wig instead of a proper barrister.
Her stomach tightened, threatened to revolt. “You’re fidgeting,” she whispered as he reorganized his papers for the fifth time in as many minutes. “Is something wrong?”
“A bit nervous.” He gave her a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “My first divorce hearing, remember?”
She attempted to chuckle, but it sounded more like a croak. “Mine, too.”
He sighed, leaned closer. “I wish I could hold your hand right now.”
A flush heated her cheeks and neck. “So d-do I.”
After their passion-fueled evening, Mari had returned to her townhouse to pace a divot into the floor while Archie traveled to London with Jasper to finalize his preparations for the hearing. She and the boys had waited until yesterday to travel to the hotel on the Strand where they’d reside until the case was resolved. Restless was far too placid a word for her state, and she’d spent the previous night tossing and turning until dawn.
The morning light had brought a revelation—surely her husband would want to end their marriage after the publicity of a hearing. It may take time, but eventually she would no longer be married, and she and Archie could have a life together. The marquess would be a part of her past, as long as she could be patient.
“How much longer until we st-start?” she hissed.
Another sigh. “Soon, we—”
The doors to the room blew open, and a stocky man in robes and a powdered wig entered, trailed by her husband and another man in similar garb. Her body wound tight, like a top was spinning at the base of her spine and curling her vertebrae around it. Archie stood straighter as the men sat at the other table in front of thejudge’s bench, and she was grateful that Archie and the marquess’ barristers remained between herself and her odious spouse.
The marquess seemed smaller than he had been weeks ago, his hair thinner and face more lined. As though she’d created a more intimidating creature in her mind than existed in reality.
“Vernon Stansbury,” Archie growled in a low voice, nodding toward the stocky man. “A complete arse, but a damn fine barrister.”
Her spine tightened further, and she knitted her fingers together to keep from chewing her nails. Before their opponents had taken their seats, an older gentleman in robes took to the bench and sat, scratching at his wig for a moment before settling his spectacles on the tip of his pointed nose and nodding at her husband. “Lord Croydon, and Mr. Stansbury. A pleasure to see you again.” He checked the papers in front of him. “And Mr. Grant… Have I heard a case from you before?”
Archie stiffened. “Yes, my lord. A matter involving… um, the turnip fields.” Marigold thought she heard a chuckle from the marquess’ table. “With all due respect, my lord,” Archie continued, “I thought the Master of Divorce would hear our case.”
The judge scowled. “This is the matter of a divorce initiated against a highly regarded peer of the realm, and will be treated with all the seriousness it deserves, Mr. Grant. If you are displeased, you’re welcome to withdraw your petition.”
“No, my lord, not displeased at all,” he interrupted, sitting in a rush. A line of perspiration dotted his brow.
