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Yet he wanted to do something to help. Not that he blamed her for her pride. She’d gone from being a wealthy baron’s daughter to this. Still … “Let me at least find out more about the legal aspects of James’s situation.”

“Oh.” She softened. “That would be useful. I know nothing about these things, and my stepmother knows even less, so we have to rely on Mr. Washburn, our attorney. He’s supposed to be making sure James gets his due, but he hasn’t been able to do much.”

“Why not?” Noel asked.

She shrugged. “According to Mr. Washburn, Papa’s brother, Uriah Archer, is disputing James’s claim to the barony. Uncle Uriah says his elder brother would never have married a French seamstress, and even if he had done so rather than simply making her his mistress, how can the court be sure James was born on the right side of the blanket?” She scowled. “It’s maddening how certain he is of my stepmother’s poor character when he hasn’t even bothered to meet her.”

“Surely your stepmother has proof of the marriage and of James’s birth.”

“The marriage and birth records are in France at the church where Papa wed my stepmother and James was baptized. They hurried us out of Verdun as soon as Napoleon abdicated, so there was no time to get official copies.”

“Witnesses?”

“So far Mr. Washburn hasn’t been able to find them. Everyone left Verdun at different times once we were released, and all of us had to make our own way to the coast. One of the witnesses had died, anyway, but Mr. Washburn has had no luck finding the other in England.”

She sighed. “Besides, we didn’t expect Papa to perish on the journey home. He would have been able to prove it all eventually, and in the meantime, he could have supported us.” She shook her head. “Now someone has to return to France and get the priest to attest to it in a legal document and such. We can’t afford it, but that’s what Mr. Washburn says must happen.”

His eyes narrowed. “Mr. Washburn doesn’t sound like a very good attorney.”

Her shoulders drooped. “To be fair, Uncle Uriah has had access to Papa’s funds for some time. He just refuses to give us any. Papa hadn’t changed his will to reflect his new marriage, I’m afraid, or the letter doing so never made it to England. And he wasn’t expecting to die so young.”

Noel’s father hadn’t been, either, but that hadn’t prevented a carriage from striking him as he’d crossed a street. Meanwhile, Natalie had known to expect her death. They’d all known. Few people survived consumption.

But it had been shocking and devastating, anyway. Even when death was expected, it was a surprise.

Suddenly he realized something. “You’re not coughing anymore.”

“No. I don’t cough in this part of town, or in most parts of town, really. Only in Holborn.”

Odd. Her cough hadn’t seemed feigned—of all people, he ought to know—but that bad a cough couldn’t suddenly be suppressed.

Then the rest of her statements sank in. “Wait, are you living in Holborn now?” It was a decent area of shabby gentility, but certainly not a neighborhood for the likes of a baron’s daughter and her family.

Her cheeks turned bright red, yet she forced a smile. “We did try to find a place in Mayfair, but they expected us to actually pay for our lodgings,” she said flippantly. “Can you imagine?”

How could she joke about such a thing? “And you live free where you are?” he asked, in all seriousness.

She lifted her eyes heavenward. “Of course not. But our lodgings are far less dear than yours, I daresay.”

“No doubt, if you’re in Holborn.”

“I did not say that’s where we live,” she countered, rather nervously.

“Miss Archer—” he began, but before he could press her further, her brother came running up to them.

“Mr. Washburn isn’t in,” James said. “He’s in court.”

She snorted. “I doubt that. One of the clerks told me yesterday he would be in his office today. He’s just avoiding me.”

“Who recommended Mr. Washburn to you?” Noel asked.

“One of the other détenus,” she said.

“A fellow who’s sweet on Eve,” James said sullenly.

That news delivered an unexpected punch to his gut. He fought to ignore it. “Doesn’t surprise me. I’d be shocked if all the détenu males aren’t sweet on your sister.”

She looked startled by the compliment. “That’s laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think?”