Page 27

Chapter 26

When the imposing facade of the Palace of Westminster came into view, Bridget shivered, despite the oppressive August heat that brought a gleam of sweat to the foreheads of the Londoners brushing past them on the street. Somewhere inside that towering edifice was a chamber where men were waiting to humiliate her. Her grip tightened on Cormac’s arm and he drew her closer to his side, the only physical comfort he could offer in public.

‘There’s still time to reconsider,’ he said.

‘There isn’t,’ she replied.

‘The lady is correct,’ Mr Carruthers said on Bridget’s other side. ‘We are committed to this venture now.’

The lawyer did not have a critical role to play today, but the House of Lords had consented to his attendance at the hearing in recognition of his legal capacity. Cormac, on the other hand, would not be permitted inside the building.

As they approached the seat of the English parliament, Bridget found herself both awed and intimidated by its striking Gothic architecture, the sharp lines and unyielding symmetry speaking of conformity and inflexibility. She, with her deplorable lack of morals, was categorically not welcome.

They passed through the shadow of an enormous clock tower still in the midst of construction and found Garrett waiting beyond it in the company of his own lawyer, a moustachioed fellow Bridget recognised from his occasional visits to Wyndham House during the years she had lived there. Garrett grimaced as they drew near, and she glanced up to discern a wary frown on Cormac’s countenance. This was the first time the two men had come face to face since Garrett had proposed the divorce. She hoped Garrett would manage to retain some measure of the civility he had shown her in the unkempt gardens of Oakleigh the previous November. He pursed his lips as they reached him.

‘I’m afraid a fresh complication has arisen,’ he said without preamble.

Cormac’s expression darkened further. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I have just learned who will comprise the panel of peers at today’s hearing.’ Garrett wrinkled his nose in obvious distaste. ‘Lord Woodbury has been selected to chair the panel. I’ve had no personal dealings with him, but his reputation precedes him and he is not known for his compassion. He will be quite merciless, I expect.’

Bridget’s stomach roiled.

‘That, unfortunately, is not the worst of it,’ Garrett continued. ‘Lord Woodbury will be accompanied by two others. One of them, Lord Swaneset, is an acquaintance of mine and not a cause for concern, I believe. Apart from being personally associated with me, he has three sisters and two daughters, and his customary solicitude in their regard leads me to presume that we can count on a certain level of sympathy from him towards the gentler sex in general. The other, however’ – Garrett swallowed – ‘is the Duke of Northrop.’

‘Oh, God damn it,’ said Cormac.

‘Indeed,’ said Garrett. ‘I had originally deemed this to be merely an exercise in degradation, and that the outcome would be a foregone conclusion. I am a member of the House of Lords, after all—they would not deny a fellow peer willing to go to these lengths to achieve his ambition. But the duke is a different matter. He may well wish to exact revenge for the actions of my wayward son in relation to his wife. There’s a strong likelihood that he will put his weight behind a motion to reject the granting of the divorce.’

Which would mean that Bridget’s abhorrent task today might yet come to naught, and she would have disgraced herself for no worthwhile purpose. Her sweat felt cold on her skin.

Garrett’s expression verged on apologetic as he said to her, ‘I fear you are walking into the lions’ den to be devoured.’

She recalled the biblical story of Daniel, who was saved from the lions only by the hand of God. How she dreaded the snapping, salivating jaws of the men awaiting her.

Cormac gave Garrett a razor-sharp look. ‘Are you prepared to protect her in there?’

‘I’m not divine,’ Garrett said wryly, ‘but I shall do what I can.’

He took out a pocket watch and consulted it. With a jolt, Bridget remembered her father’s pocket watch which she had gifted to Garrett in the early days of their relationship, only to retrieve it from his possessions when she ran away from London with Cormac. They had never spoken of this reclamation – this theft, as he no doubt viewed it – in all the years since. How angry had he been when he had discovered it missing from his bedchamber? Did he guess that it was now in Cormac’s keeping?

He made no mention of it as he stowed away the watch and said, ‘It’s almost time. I’ll meet you in the hearing chamber. Pryor will guide you there.’

With a brisk bow, he strode away, leaving even his lawyer behind. Bridget understood that there was a special entrance into the palace designated exclusively for peers, while all visitors, including commoners, clerks and journalists, were obliged to use a separate access point and to present documentation attesting to their right to enter.

Garrett’s lawyer, Mr Pryor, led the way to this other entrance, bringing them to a stone archway that was less grand than the rest of the building. Liveried guards stood sentry in front of it.

‘This is as far as I may go,’ Cormac said, his reluctance palpable.

Bridget dropped her hand from his arm but he captured it in both of his own and bent his head to hers, their foreheads almost touching.

‘I desperately wish you didn’t have to do this,’ he murmured, low enough that neither the lawyers nor the guards could overhear. ‘Just remember that you are worth a thousand times more than the person they will try to reduce you to.’

She gulped down the lump in her throat. ‘I have the strength to do this,’ she whispered, ‘because I know that your faith and love go with me.’

‘I’ll be right here waiting for you afterwards.’ He let go of her hand and brushed his left knuckles against her right hip before turning to Mr Carruthers. ‘I’m relying on you to intervene if it proves necessary. Should they push too far, get her out of there.’

Mr Carruthers nodded. ‘I’ll monitor the situation closely.’

Cormac stepped back and Bridget, Mr Carruthers and Mr Pryor approached one of the guards, who held out his hand, unsmiling. Mr Pryor produced the documents Garrett had signed on their behalf and the guard retreated beneath the archway, disappearing from sight. A long, tense minute went by before he returned and handed the papers back to Mr Pryor with a curt gesture for them to proceed. His manner seemed even more dour after his brief absence and Bridget caught his fleeting look of disapproval as she passed him. Was it simply because she was a woman whose presence would taint these hallowed halls of masculine power? Or had he learned the scandalous purpose of her visit? She cast one final glance over her shoulder and drew courage from Cormac’s unwavering blue gaze. Then she faced forwards again, straightened her spine and walked resolutely towards her fate.

Inside the palace, an attendant greeted them grimly and motioned for them to follow him. Mr Pryor affirmed that he already knew the way, but the attendant ignored him and set off at a brisk pace, leaving Bridget and the two lawyers to hurry along in his wake. The dim interior was pleasantly cool after the heat outside, though that was the only welcoming aspect of the building; its hallways seemed deliberately designed to intimidate with their vaulted ceilings, shadowed recesses and walls adorned with sombre portraits of long-dead statesmen whose gazes seemed to judge all who passed beneath them. Feeling both dwarfed and censured, Bridget nevertheless carried on, one echoing footstep at a time.

She lost track of the route they took through the cavernous passages and up long flights of steps, but eventually the attendant stopped at a solid wooden door and gave them a sharp nod before marching away. Mr Pryor went first, opening the door and stepping through. Mr Carruthers prompted Bridget to go next and followed close behind her as she crossed the threshold, her heart beating in her throat.

Although opulent in its features, the size of the hearing chamber was smaller than she had expected it to be. There was a dais at the top of the room, occupied by a wide desk and three empty chairs. In front of it stood two separate tables clearly meant for the litigants and their legal counsel – Garrett was not yet present. To the side, a clerk sat with an unimpeded view of both the dais and the litigants’ tables; his own small table bore an open record book, an inkpot and three pens, and he already clutched a fourth pen, looking eager for the proceedings to begin. Against the back wall, a seating area included two rows of benches for journalists and other privileged spectators; Bridget winced upon seeing that it was completely full.

A low muttering rose up as she entered the chamber and the appraising stares of everyone present swung in her direction. The small room might seem like a private setting but this was very much a public hearing – she eyed the journalists poised to write in their notebooks and knew that her reputation would be in tatters by the morrow. Thank goodness the lecture she had arranged with Reverend Hartley had taken place earlier in the summer and the collected donations had already been distributed. Without the benefit of Frances’s altruistic services beyond London, and buoyed by her and Cormac’s comparatively mild reception from the theatre-goers in Dublin (at least, until the riot broke out), she had ventured to put her own name on her correspondence with the reverend. Their interactions had gone smoothly at the time, but she doubted whether he, or the wealthy patrons who had attended the lecture, would deign to have any further dealings with her after this. She felt a pang of selfishness that going ahead with the divorce would impinge upon her ability to help the people who were still suffering from the blight. However, it would not stop her altogether – she and Cormac would simply need to carry out their charitable efforts in total anonymity from this point forth.

Mr Carruthers pulled out a chair for her at one of the tables and she sat, careful not to make eye contact with anyone. It would have taken considerable influence or prominent connections to secure a place on the limited spectators’ benches, so she could assume that those who had managed to claim a spot were especially keen to witness her downfall. She didn’t want to know who harboured such a loathsome thirst. At least her back would be facing them for the duration of the hearing.

Garrett strode into the chamber a moment later and joined his lawyer at the other table without even a glance towards Bridget. She gritted her teeth and berated herself for having anticipated some kind of encouraging signal from him. In this room they could only be adversaries.

With both litigants now present, the air in the chamber seemed to thicken with expectation. She heard rustling and creaking behind her as the spectators shifted on their benches. The clerk’s knuckles were almost white as he gripped his pen, his attention fixed on a discreet door in the wall behind the dais. Then the door opened and three figures came through it.

The first gentleman carried himself with an imperiousness that bordered on regal, his straight-backed posture and sweeping gaze redolent of a monarch surveying his court. When his haughty glare landed on the other litigant’s table, Garrett visibly flinched and Bridget realised with a sinking feeling that this had to be the Duke of Northrop. The man adjusted his cuffs with measured precision and she caught sight of the signet ring on his little finger, a thick band of gleaming gold.

The second gentleman didn’t exude any such superiority. Although not elderly by any means, his shoulders were markedly stooped, as if he were trying to take up less space. Expression inscrutable, he cast Garrett a single, brief nod before stepping aside to reveal the final figure.

Bridget blinked. The third gentleman was smiling graciously, the first smile she had seen all day. He had a handsome face, and laughter lines clustered at the corners of his mouth and eyes. Inclining his head courteously towards his fellow peers, he moved forwards to claim the middle chair on the dais. The duke settled himself on the man’s right-hand side, leaving the stooped gentleman to take the third seat on his left.

The man in the centre paused for a moment before addressing the room in a honeyed tenor voice. ‘This hearing is now in session, on the 14 th of August, 1849. Presiding today are His Grace, the Duke of Northrop, the esteemed Viscount Swaneset, and myself, the Earl of Woodbury. We have convened to deliberate upon the petition for divorce put forward by Viscount Wyndham. The evidence presented and the testimonies given in this chamber will determine whether the matter will be brought before the House of Lords for further debate and ultimate resolution.’

Bridget swallowed at the obvious message in his words: their desired outcome was in no way guaranteed. She kept her focus trained steadily on the wall just above his head, unwilling to betray any sign that she felt daunted by the occasion. In her peripheral vision, she glimpsed the clerk scribbling swiftly in his record book.

Lord Woodbury carried on. ‘We now acknowledge the key parties in attendance: the petitioner, Lord Wyndham, accompanied by his counsel, Mr Pryor, and the respondent, Lady Wyndham, accompanied by her counsel, Mr Carruthers.’

She cringed at the title, but of course she could not object to it – she was here, after all, in her role as viscountess. Under these circumstances, Lady Courcey was a secondary and irrelevant rank.

‘The petition submitted by Lord Wyndham seeks to dissolve the marital union between himself and Lady Wyndham. According to documents lodged in advance of this hearing, grounds for divorce have already been established in the ecclesiastical courts, where a decree of legal separation has been obtained, and the litigants now wish to wholly end the marriage by a private Act of Parliament.’

A chorus of disapproving whispers rose up behind Bridget.

Lord Woodbury raised a hand for silence; unlike a judge in a courtroom, he had no gavel to command order. ‘I must remind all present that this is a solemn proceeding, and that disruptions of any nature will not be tolerated.’ He levelled a kindly gaze at Bridget and she wondered whether his harsh reputation was somewhat undeserved, especially when he continued, ‘We understand that matters such as these are deeply personal and often painful, and we urge all parties to maintain composure and dignity throughout. Together, my fellow panel members and I will consider the merits of the petition in accordance with the statutes of our institution and the principles of fairness.’

Bridget chanced a glance at the Duke of Northrop; his features were steely.

‘If there are no objections,’ said Lord Woodbury, ‘we will now hear from Mr Pryor on behalf of the petitioner.’

Garrett’s lawyer pushed back his chair and stood. Bridget caught the flicker of discomfort in his countenance before he carefully schooled it into an expression of cool detachment.

‘My lords, I am honoured to speak for Lord Wyndham on this grave matter. It is our submission that the evidence presented here today will fully satisfy the legal and moral grounds required for the granting of this divorce. I should like to affirm that Lord Wyndham is a gentleman of integrity and that he has no wish to promote any unnecessary conflict. Having endured considerable personal anguish throughout this process, it is his earnest desire to bring this lamentable chapter to a close with all due propriety.’

Bridget bit the tip of her tongue. Of course, Garrett had to be presented as the innocent, injured party in order to accomplish their goal, but the injustice of this fanciful depiction of his character nonetheless nettled her.

Mr Pryor delicately cleared his throat. ‘My lords, it is with regret that I must draw your attention to the undeniable fact that Lady Wyndham has engaged in conduct contrary to the solemn obligations of her marriage. The particulars already provided to the ecclesiastical court have established beyond dispute that she formed an improper connection outside the bounds of matrimony, thereby violating the sacred trust inherent in the union. It is my understanding that Lady Wyndham herself intends to offer a candid acknowledgment of her actions in your noble presence today, thereby substantiating the grounds upon which this petition has been brought.’

He turned expectantly, and the heads of the three panel members swivelled towards Bridget. She gulped. Now? She had anticipated a lengthy spell of tedious legal discourse before she would be called upon to speak. Startled, she looked at Mr Carruthers, who withdrew the prepared statement from inside his coat.

‘Good luck,’ he murmured, handing it to her.

She accepted the piece of paper numbly and stared down at it. Although she had rehearsed her testimony before coming to the palace, the sentences now seemed to jumble together without making any sense. She blinked rapidly to try to clear her vision.

‘My lady?’ Mr Carruthers said, leaning closer in concern.

‘I’m fine,’ she croaked.

She rose from her seat, her pulse thundering in her ears. She could do this. She was facing the hardest part now, but it would all be worth it once she was finally able to become Cormac’s wife.

‘My lords,’ she started in a wavering tone, and then stopped. No, that would not do. It was prudent to be compliant, but she would not cower before them. Clutching the page tightly, she read on in a stronger voice, ‘I, Lady Wyndham, do hereby confess that during the course of my marriage to Lord Wyndham, I did knowingly and willingly engage in a relationship of an adulterous nature with Mr Cormac McGovern, with whom I have cohabited since my departure from my husband’s household. I committed this transgression—’

At this juncture, she was obliged to stop once more because the gasps behind her drowned out her words. She expected Lord Woodbury to admonish the spectators into silence again, but he merely waited, allowing the scandalised reactions to continue without interruption. She felt the agony of every passing second – now that she had begun, she only wanted to finish her statement as quickly as possible and be done with it. Eventually, the noise petered out and she took a steadying breath.

‘I committed this transgression in the year 1836 and have persisted with it to the present day, thus breaking the vows of my marriage and neglecting the duty owed to my husband. I make this admission freely and without coercion, on the understanding that it serves as evidence in these proceedings and that it corroborates the petition set forth by Lord Wyndham in seeking the dissolution of our union. I submit myself to the judgement of this panel and the consequences that may arise from my actions.’

When she ceased speaking this time, there wasn’t a sound in the chamber; it seemed she had rendered her audience speechless. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder and view their appalled faces. Instead, she concentrated on Lord Woodbury, who had steepled his hands under his chin and was regarding her with a furrowed brow.

‘Thank you, Lady Wyndham,’ he said at last. ‘I have no doubt it took tremendous resolve to articulate those words aloud. May we ask some clarifying questions about your statement to ensure we have a full comprehension of the facts?’

‘You may,’ she said, as Mr Carruthers had forewarned her of this.

He smiled at her. ‘How obliging of you. Frankly, my lady, I am impressed. Your lack of humility is quite stunning, though I daresay it is a fitting reflection of the vice in your character.’

She recoiled as if he had slapped her. The clerk paused in the midst of his frantic writing to gape up at the dais. Lord Woodbury’s pleasant expression remained unchanged.

‘You cannot be surprised that we would perceive you in this light,’ he said. ‘Your conduct has been a reprehensible insult to your entire sex. Did you not consider the damage you would do to your fellow females when you strutted down this path of immorality?’

As speechless as the spectators, she found herself unable to respond. She had not anticipated that the interrogation would be so direct and offensive.

‘Come now, Lady Wyndham, you agreed to answer our questions. Kindly tell us: did it occur to you in the midst of your selfish passions to contemplate the broader ramifications? That your shameful behaviour would lead to a widespread reduction in general respect for so-called “ladies”? That we gentlemen would be impelled to suspect such wantonness lurks within every woman, though she bats her eyelashes innocently in public? You belonged to a distinguished circle of females granted rank and society status. These privileges came with responsibilities, which you so carelessly cast aside. Did you not pause to think of all the women who would be tarnished by their association with you?’

It felt like her throat was swollen with influenza, so difficult was it to get the words out. ‘I did not.’

He shook his head in disappointment. ‘How terribly self-centred. Do you believe it was worth it? Has your own carnal satisfaction outweighed the loss of honour suffered by the ladies of your class?’

She sent a desperate look of entreaty to both Lord Swaneset and the Duke of Northrop, but, though the former shifted uneasily in his seat, neither intervened. It appeared that they were there to make up the numbers and that Lord Woodbury was the driver of this inquisition. He raised his eyebrows at her in expectation.

‘I-I cannot answer that,’ she stammered.

He sighed. ‘Let us ask you some easier questions, then. I trust these will be less taxing for you.’ He tapped a finger against his cheek in exaggerated deliberation. ‘When precisely did your improper relationship with Mr McGovern begin?’

She realised she was clutching her statement hard enough to scrunch the paper and loosened her grip slightly. ‘February 1836.’

‘And where did that act of criminal conversation take place?’

‘At Wyndham House on Berkeley Square,’ she said faintly.

‘Dear me, you took him into the bed you shared with your husband? Your audacity truly knows no limits.’

She risked a glance in Garrett’s direction. His gaze was fixed straight ahead on the dais, but she discerned the taut line of his jaw.

‘Help us to detect some level of virtue in you,’ Lord Woodbury said, pressing his palms together as though in plea. ‘Did you discourage Mr McGovern in his pursuit of you? Did you remind him of your marriage vows and protest against his advances? Perhaps this affair only commenced because he forced himself upon you?’

‘No,’ she said in a clear voice that could not be misinterpreted. ‘I accepted him willingly.’

Lord Swaneset winced and she knew she was saying nothing to ameliorate her situation. Nevertheless, she would not have false slurs against Cormac printed in the papers.

‘So you surrendered to a reckless indulgence in your base impulses,’ said Lord Woodbury, his tone grave while his eyes glinted with glee.

She bristled. ‘Our connection was not the product of a fleeting moment of lust. I have known Cormac since we were childhood friends. We cherished a lifelong bond that became rooted in deep love.’

Did she hear a murmur of sympathy behind her? Lord Woodbury ignored it.

‘If your acquaintance is so longstanding, should we thus infer that you had been on familiar terms with Mr McGovern during your engagement to Lord Wyndham? Were you unfaithful even before your marriage took place?’

She blanched. Her early friendship with Cormac at Oakleigh, as well as their later roles as employer and servant, had already been documented in the evidence submitted to the ecclesiastical court, but only on paper. If she allowed Lord Woodbury to pursue this line of questioning now, would he dare to go a step further and suggest that Emily had been conceived before Bridget wed Garrett?

Mr Carruthers stood quickly. ‘My lords, the scope of this inquiry pertains strictly to events within the bounds of the marriage between Lord and Lady Wyndham. Scrutinising what may or may not have preceded it is irrelevant and beyond the remit of this esteemed panel.’

He sat back down and she tried to conceal her relief when Lord Woodbury nodded in acquiescence. He appeared unperturbed by the lawyer’s intervention; she supposed his insinuation would be more than enough to feed the hungry journalists, who would spread their speculations without any further steering on his part.

‘Let us turn to the matter of your motivation, my lady,’ he said instead. ‘Why would you ever consider straying from your husband? You made a fine match in marrying above your station.’

‘Rank isn’t everything,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Ours was an unhappy union.’

Lord Woodbury’s expression filled with concern and he leaned forwards. ‘I am very sorry to hear that, my lady. Was your husband abusive? Did he beat you?’

‘No,’ she admitted. For all his failings, Garrett had never been physically violent with her, although he had come close to it that day he burned the wooden bird.

‘Perhaps he confined you to the house, then? Limited your social engagements? Deprived you of your household allowances?’

She compressed her lips. ‘No.’

‘I beg you to enlighten us. In what manner did he make you so miserable that you felt compelled to flee from him?’

‘He was…cold.’

Lord Woodbury affected a look of horror. ‘A severe crime, indeed. So he was not demonstrative enough in his emotions and you deemed that sufficient justification to abandon the sacred institution of marriage?’

She cringed. ‘It was more than that. He—he never took my feelings into account. He insisted we move to London, though it was against my will, and—’

‘Permit me to extend my sympathies for your grievous burden,’ Lord Woodbury interrupted. ‘He brought you to a luxurious home in a vibrant city, where you had substantial wealth and influence as a viscountess. What dismal circumstances to contend with.’

She ground her teeth. ‘He made it plain that my preferences were inconsequential and that he would dictate the course of our lives.’

‘Did you not promise to honour and obey him on your wedding day? It strikes me as a weakness in your nature, and not his, that you chose to dispense with the holy vows you made before God.’

It took all her willpower to hold back the tears threatening to surface. She wouldn’t expect a man of privilege to understand what it was like for a woman to have no agency of her own.

‘He had numerous mistresses,’ she choked out.

Lord Woodbury cocked his head to the side, assuming an air of boredom. ‘My lady, many husbands seek diversion outside the home. That is hardly a cause for objection.’

Her insides burned with outrage, though she was entirely unsurprised. By the standards of these lords, a wife’s duty was to turn a blind eye and never dream of straying herself. The duke exemplified this hypocrisy – he indulged in his own affairs and yet demanded fidelity from his wife when she gave her attentions to Patrick. Bridget yearned to point out this duplicity, but it would not serve to antagonise a member of the panel while in her current precarious situation.

‘And are these all of Lord Wyndham’s faults?’ Lord Woodbury pressed. ‘He didn’t do anything else to offend you?’

She wanted to growl with frustration. Of course Garrett had many other faults, but she was not at liberty to divulge them. If she told the panel how he had aided her mother in orchestrating Cormac’s banishment from Oakleigh and then sabotaged his prospects of gaining employment on any other estate, she would once again run the risk of revealing their liaison before her marriage. If she complained about the fact that he’d had his agent follow her in Boston, the panel would only argue that a gentleman had every right to try to find his missing wife.

And his worst transgressions of all could never be uttered in public, for if she disclosed the abominable way he had treated Mary, or his deceitfulness in luring Emily to London, then she would also expose Patrick’s illegitimate origins, which she simply could not bring herself to do, no matter how much it might bolster her own position.

Lord Woodbury smirked. ‘I take it by your silence that you have nothing further to add.’

She didn’t know what to say without implicating others in her accusations. She peeked sidelong at Mr Carruthers, but he gave her a rueful shrug, unable to offer any helpful intercession this time.

‘In that case,’ Lord Woodbury said jauntily, ‘I feel obliged to propose a new motion for the consideration of this hearing. Evidently, Lady Wyndham does not have reasonable grounds for abandoning her husband, whose sins are minor at best. Before we proceed any further on the matter of their divorce, might we not recommend that Lord Wyndham put forward a petition for the restitution of his conjugal rights instead? Such a step would be far preferable in preserving the sanctity of marriage.’

Bridget gaped up at the dais as Lord Woodbury looked to his right and left, seeking the approbation of his companions. Surely she had not heard him correctly?

‘It is a prudent proposal that calls for closer scrutiny,’ the Duke of Northrop said with a terse nod.

Lord Swaneset shot a furtive glance towards the petitioner’s table as though trying to divine which response Garrett would prefer. ‘Perhaps it should be considered,’ he said hesitantly.

A frisson of cold dread rippled down Bridget’s spine. ‘No,’ she croaked, but her protestation went unheard as Lord Woodbury carried on with a warm smile.

‘Wouldn’t it be a more uplifting occasion today if, instead of sundering this marriage, we succeeded in reconciling the couple? We would most certainly welcome Lord Wyndham’s altering of his petition if he would rather appeal to his spouse to rejoin him in their marital home and resume her wifely duties.’

Bridget’s statement slipped from her frozen fingers and landed soundlessly on the table in front of her. A wave of nausea surged in her stomach. Next to her, Mr Carruthers jumped to his feet.

‘My lords,’ he said sharply, ‘that is not the issue before you today.’

‘But oughtn’t it to be?’ Lord Woodbury responded in a silky voice. ‘From the scant evidence provided by the lady herself, it is clear that she has unjustly deserted her husband. Should he declare himself willing to maintain their union after all, then he would be within his rights to file a petition compelling her to fulfil her role as his wife again. I feel confident that we would find in his favour, as it would be a much happier outcome of this day’s proceedings.’

There was a loud roaring in Bridget’s ears. ‘Reconciliation is not a viable option,’ she managed to utter, fearing she would vomit.

Lord Woodbury contemplated her with polite scepticism. ‘Is it not a woman’s obligation, by both law and morality, to return to her husband if he demands it?’

‘I endured a joyless life in Berkeley Square for as long as I could,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Returning to it would not preserve the sanctity of marriage—it would only mock it.’

In a gentle tone, he said, ‘It behoves me to remind the lady that, were she to refuse to comply, she would face penalties as severe as financial sanctions or even incarceration.’

This could not be happening. Throat clogged with panic, she swung her gaze across to the petitioner’s table. Garrett was still facing forwards, and Mr Pryor wouldn’t make eye contact with her. Her stomach heaved again and she put her hand over her mouth.

Had this been Garrett’s plan all along? Had his proposition of divorce merely been a ruse to lure her to this chamber and entrap her? She imagined the horror of being forced to go back to Berkeley Square after the hearing, crossing its threshold like a condemned prisoner, confined once more to that shadow of an existence.

No, she could never go back there.

And yet, the law had the power to compel her.

Her heart plummeted as she caught sight of Lord Woodbury’s diabolical grin and realised that he must have acquired his copious laughter lines from cruel amusement, since there was no kindness in him. What a scoundrel. Still, it was possible that he was only a co-conspirator and not the chief architect of this vile scheme.

She dropped her hand. ‘Look at me,’ she hissed in Garrett’s direction.

She didn’t care who heard the terror and desperation in her voice. She would demand that he face her if he was going to betray her.

Slowly, so slowly, he turned his head towards her. And she saw it there in his eyes: his desire for victory. That same compulsion had driven him before – he had once confessed that he had married her, despite her infidelity, because he simply had to win. Every relationship in his life was a contest to be dominated and conquered. If the panel granted him the authority to drag her back to Wyndham House, he could claim her as a trophy of his triumph.

In that moment, she felt a spear of disgust go through her – not for him, but for herself. She had believed this man was actually capable of change. More fool her.

His gaze narrowed as though he could tell what she was thinking. He rose from his seat without any sense of urgency and swivelled to face the dais once more, straightening his coat sleeves.

‘My lords,’ he said, his demeanour wholly unruffled. ‘I am gratified by your solicitude. It is truly flattering that you would demonstrate such eagerness for a reconciliation between Lady Wyndham and myself. I can only thank you most sincerely for your generosity in proposing this alternative resolution.’

Bridget’s heart thumped painfully against her ribs and she cast a fleeting look over her shoulder at the door. Should she make a run for it? It was a reckless idea, and she would likely get lost in the palace’s maze of passages, but if she could find a place to hide until they stopped searching for her—

‘However,’ Garrett continued, ‘I must decline the proposition you have suggested.’

Her head whipped back to the petitioner’s table as shocked whispers emanated from the back of the room. Garrett was staring coolly at Lord Woodbury, who raised an inquisitive eyebrow in return.

‘Indeed?’ the gentleman said. ‘May we enquire as to your reasoning behind that decision?’

Garrett’s jaw tightened. ‘Before I entered this chamber, I had already come to the definite conclusion that the lady and I are not suited to each other. I’m afraid this “happy marriage” you envision is a fanciful notion. Were she and I to live once more under the same roof, there would be nothing but unhappiness between us. I am entirely convinced that divorce is the best option for all concerned.’

Bridget’s breath leaked out of her as she pressed both of her palms onto the table for support.

‘What a pity,’ Lord Woodbury said with a sorrowful shake of his head. ‘You are quite sure you wish to proceed with your original petition?’

‘I am,’ said Garrett.

Bewildered by the rapid turn of events, Bridget’s whole body started to tremble with shock and relief. Mr Carruthers put his hand on her arm to keep her steady.

‘And what about the other guilty party?’ Lord Woodbury asked. ‘Are you of a mind to sue him for the debauching of your wife?’

Garrett pursed his lips. He seemed to struggle with his answer, but at last he said, ‘No, I choose not to pursue that course of action either.’

Untroubled that his meddling had not yielded results, Lord Woodbury spread his hands. ‘Then I believe we have heard all the testimony relevant to this hearing. It is now the responsibility of this panel to determine whether the evidence that has been presented warrants advancing the matter to the House of Lords.’

Bridget wondered whether the three gentlemen would withdraw to deliberate over their judgement, but the Duke of Northrop sat up rigidly and said, ‘I recommend that the petition be denied.’

‘It is my view that the petition should be granted,’ Lord Swaneset piped up, seeming relieved to have identified which side of the dispute he was meant to be on.

Lord Woodbury looked down at Bridget with a smug expression; no doubt he was elated to hold the deciding vote. Her gut twisted as she anticipated his verdict and she dearly wished she had never come here today to be subjected to such brutal treatment for no reason at all.

But then he declared, ‘I side with Lord Swaneset. At a majority of two to one, this panel has decided to progress the motion to the next stage of debate in the main house. Following that, a decision will be reached as to whether an act may be passed sanctioning the divorce.’

The duke’s lip curled sourly but he didn’t gainsay his fellow peers. Bridget stared at Lord Woodbury in disbelief. After pushing for the alternative, why would he now be so quick to approve this outcome? The corners of his eyes and mouth crinkled in delight, causing her stomach to heave yet again with revulsion. Had he just been toying with her all along? How could he call himself a gentleman when he behaved like such a beast?

At least there was one man who had proved himself to be better than she had given him credit for. Garrett gave the panel a curt nod in acknowledgement of their ruling as they rose to leave, before turning to murmur something to Mr Pryor. Should she approach him and offer her thanks for his rare display of integrity?

Mr Carruthers tightened his grip on her arm. ‘My lady, I would advise you to make a swift exit.’

She followed his apprehensive gaze; the journalists had leapt up from their benches and were advancing towards her with open notebooks and avid expressions.

‘Yes, let’s hurry,’ she mumbled.

However, they had barely stepped away from the table when the first man blocked their path.

‘Lady Wyndham, what do you have to say about the state of your reputation?’ he asked eagerly.

‘Do you regret leaving your husband?’ another called from behind him.

‘Do you believe you’ve set a scandalous precedent for other women?’ demanded a third as he snatched up her abandoned statement from the table.

‘How can you justify your sinful choice?’

That one made her pause. She sought out the speaker, a youth hurriedly reaching for the chewed pencil tucked behind his ear. He looked scarcely old enough to shave, let alone grasp the breadth of the struggle that had brought her to this point.

‘I chose love,’ she said calmly. ‘And I would choose it again without repentance.’

His mouth fell open in astonishment as she strode away to the door.