Page 9 of The Lady Who Left (The Flower Sisters #4)
“ W hat is your plan?”
Archie pressed another heavy book into Jasper’s hands and continued down the narrow aisles of the Leeds Law Library, speaking over his shoulder. Dust motes clouded the lone path of sunlight that made it through the windows dotting the domed ceiling of the common study room to the dense stacks beyond. “It’s not really a plan yet, more of a loose collection of thoughts I hope will turn into a plan.”
He ignored Jasper’s long-suffering sigh. “And your thoughts are…”
“Three grounds for divorce,” he said, running his finger along the gold-filigree spines until he found the one he was looking for, tugged it down, and added it to Jasper’s pile. “Abandonment is not at issue, so we need to prove infidelity and abuse.”
“Precisely.” Jasper sneezed. That last book was rather dusty .
“Lady Croydon claims the marquess took pains to hide his mistresses.” Using her title felt like a slice across the chest every time, but the sting was lessening. But he’d be damned if he referred to Lord Croydon as her husband. “She did not condone the affair.”
“And therefore, his infidelity can be used against him,” Jasper said. “How will she prove it?”
“Letters.” Archie stopped when he reached a newspaper archive, and Jasper nearly crashed into his back. “Society page archives.”
Jasper wrinkled his nose. “Why are these in a law library?”
“Unofficial part of the collection. The secretary went to school with my mum and adores The London Lark , and she told me I would find these here. These are chock full of names, dates, locations. Any mentions of Lord Croydon in Town while he claims to be elsewhere could be evidence against him.”
“But not evidence of an affair.”
Archie blew the layer of dust off a paper screaming Lady L___, Loveless No Longer! , and Jasper sneezed again. “True. We need to find the mistress.”
Jasper followed at a safe distance as they made their way back to the common room, dropping his voice to a whisper. “How do we find her?”
Archie spun around. “We? Are you helping me?”
“Are you daft?” His bushy white brows had approached his hairline, which, despite his age, was remarkably full. “I’d find you stuck in an alley in a week with no recollection of why you’d gotten there, but a great story as to how. Helping you now will save me labor later. ”
Archie grinned. “That’s the kindest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Jasper rolled his eyes. “Don’t expect more of it until you empty the last of those boxes.”
“It would be worth it.” He slapped a pile of tabloids on top of the books already weighing Jasper down. “Where was I? Ah, yes. Lady Croydon’s letters, combined with the gossip pages, should establish a rough timeline of his comings and goings in London. Unfortunately, the letters and, presumably, the mistress are in London.”
Jasper groaned as he dropped the stack of books on one of the few unoccupied tables. “What are all these for if everything you need is in London?”
“Case law on abuse.”
Both men stilled. “That’s a lot of case law,” Jasper said, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“Each one expanded the definition, and my hope is we can find something to help us.”
“I assumed you’d be going to London to track down the mistress.”
“I am,” he said, double checking the list of cases he’d scrawled on the back of an envelope before handing it over to his assistant. “That’s why I need you to take notes on these while I go to London, find the mistress, and find a psychologist who will support our claim. A group of scientists from Austria is working with doctors at the University College, and I suspect they can help me. ”
Jasper looked at the envelope and sighed. “This is a bill, Archie. We need to pay these!”
“We will,” Archie replied, rolling his sleeves down and buttoning the cuffs. The fickle weather had finally stopped resisting the approaching summer and delivered the warmest day of the year, with clear blue skies and a gentle breeze.
Perfect for being trapped in a library.
“When are you leaving for London?” Jasper had already settled at the table, copying Archie’s list into his notebook.
“Not until tomorrow. Lady Croydon has an appointment in the morning, and we will depart on the eleven o’clock train.”
“ Lady Croydon? ” Jasper shrieked, earning a chorus of hushes from the disgruntled men hunched over the library tables. “You’re traveling with her?” His voice was lower now, but lacked none of the condemnation.
“I know,” Archie said, shaking his head. “I don’t like it either.” He also hadn’t liked how his subconscious had supplied several nights’ worth of vivid dreams about fucking her in various positions in the train cars.
His cock had liked it quite a bit, though.
“But the only way to get the letters is if she goes to the Croydon House in Mayfair,” he finished, and Jasper scowled. “And I may need to use her title to gain access to the university.”
His assistant huffed and returned his attention to the list of cases. “As long as you don’t get access to anything else.”
Archie chuckled. “Why Jasper, aren’t you cheeky today? ”
“You’re being awfully flippant for someone who is taking his career in his hands.” Jasper lowered his voice. “You’re lucky no one knows what happened between you two.”
“You know.”
“Someone besides me, someone whose best interest doesn’t require that they keep it a secret. If you’re seen together—”
“No one will see us.” Archie grabbed the stack of gossip rags and tugged, sending three colossal volumes careening to the floor. “Ah, Christ, the librarian is coming. Will you take care of this for me?”
Jasper looked petrified of the looming librarian. “Will you help me take these to the office at least?”
But Archie was already halfway down the aisle. “I’m already running late. Would one of my mother’s pies convince you to forgive me?”
Jasper scowled, but Archie knew he’d won the man over. “A berry tart!” Jasper called, and Archie breathed a sigh of relief as he escaped from the musty space onto the bustling main street to search for a hack to bring him to York. As soon as he’d found one, convinced the driver to go the extra distance, and sat back against the leather squab, he was vibrating with energy, perched on the edge of a proverbial cliff, but with no idea which way he wanted to jump. He needed everything to go perfectly in London, or he’d be unable to put forth any case worth taking seriously.
And he needed to be taken seriously. How many more turnip disputes and clock controversies would he take on before he lost his patience and quit, leaving his clients, Jasper, and his family to pick up the pieces ?
He could justify his obsession with this case as wanting to expand rights for women in abusive homes, but he couldn’t ignore the truth that haunted him.
If he didn’t win this case, he would fail yet another woman.
He could practically hear his mother, sisters, Jasper, and the entire roster of his rugby team chastising him for such absolutist thinking, but the thought had stuck itself in his consciousness like a burr, and nothing would pull it free.
His eyes drifted shut, and the image of Marigold—a marchioness, his client —flooded his mind. The moment after they’d both climaxed, when he held her against his chest as they smiled and laughed. He’d felt grounded then, as though no storm or movement of the earth could shake his foundation. Envisioning a future with Marigold had been the closest he’d ever been to having a damn plan for his life, a picture of a life that pleased him. Settled him.
Archie let out a humorless chuckle and opened his eyes. That woman was his client, the one that might make his name, make his wealth and status, protect his sisters and mothers.
Best he not wonder what would have happened if he’d allowed himself to fall in love with her.