“What’s going on?” Marigold whispered.
Archie gave his head a shake. “Lord Huntington is presiding. He’s a higher justice of the courts. More traditional.”
And therefore less sympathetic to a woman. He didn’t need to say the words, but she understood.
“Lord Croydon, as the respondent, I assume you are similarly inclined to divorce, but wish to argue against the claims of your wife.”
Her husband stood, clasping his hands at his waist. “No, my lord. I do not wish to divorce the marchioness. I still care for her a great deal and hope we can continue our marriage.”
A murmur rose from the reporters in the back of the room, and Marigold’s lungs seized. Cared for her? What on earth—
“Then we’ll begin with opening statements. Mr. Grant?”
Archie rose, smoothed his robe as he gave Marigold a quick glance. His normally expressive mien was blank, and her pulse picked up speed. “Your lordship, we contend Lady Croydon has suffered from her husband’s infidelity and cruelty, and the only acceptable remedy is a dissolution of their marriage with cause.”
Despite the fear coursing through her veins, Marigold couldn’t help but be impressed by Archie as he spoke. She’d heard his words dozens of times now, but as he calmed and regained confidence, he’d come alive.He was born to do this, she thought, hints of pride swelling in her breast alongside a reluctant hope. Perhaps they could win this after all.
“For the cause of infidelity, I will share these letters passed between the Marquess of Croydon and Miss Agnes Edwards of London, including receipts for jewelry—”
“I beg your pardon, my lord,” Mr. Stansbury interrupted as he rose to his feet, “but the marquess concedes he was keeping a mistress during his marriage.”
Archie froze, his mouth gaping. The reporters’ pencils scratched furiously from the back of the room.
Judge Huntington’s brows furrowed. “He does?”
“Yes,” Stansbury continued. “He had no choice, as her ladyship refused the marquess access to the marital bed, and has done so since the birth of their second child.”
The judge swung his attention to Marigold and it struck her like a blow to the chest. “Lady Croydon, how long has it been since you allowed your husband his marital privileges?”
Her mouth worked for a beat before she could formulate a response, her cheeks burning. Archie said nothing, simply stared at her. “T-t-ten years, my lord, b-b-but I never t-told him—he never wanted t-t-to—”
Archie’s eyes had widened to the size of saucers, so she snapped her jaw shut.
“In that case,” the judge said, “there is no need to see the evidence. I will consider this cause in my deliberations. Please move on to your next argument.”
A sour heat rushed through Marigold, cloaked her like a wet blanket. All that work, all thattime, and it was for naught. The confidence she’d felt shriveled and died, leaving a cold, hard lump in its place.
“We also contend the marquess acted with cruelty towards his wife and children.” Archie continued with a fraction of his initialspirit, and the solid foundation beneath her feet began to crumble. When he finished, he sat, letting his head droop forward.
She wanted to reach out, climb into his lap and kiss him, tell him how proud she was that he’d battled for her, even though she was terrified.
But she settled for a quick press of her fingertips to his forearm.
“Mr. Stansbury, what say you for the respondent?” Judge Huntington asked.
Stansbury did not stand. “We have no statement at this time, aside from concern over the state of Lady Croydon’s wellbeing.”
She recoiled. Archie’s brow furrowed. Judge Huntington looked at her once more, and her stomach flipped. “Are you well, my lady?”
“Y-yes, my lord,” she said, her voice trembling.
The judge flattened his lips. “Very well. Mr. Grant, your first witness.”
Archie glanced at Marigold, and what she saw in his eyes—fear? Disappointment?—caused panic to bubble low in her belly, and her fingertips dug into her skirts. Had her stutter sunk them? Or had she done something else to hurt their case? If so, it was no wonder Archie had lost faith in her, and now he would have to make up for the damage she’d caused in only a handful of sentences.
Had they lost when they’d only just begun?
Chapter 31
