Page 9 of Tempting the Scoundrel
When evenhatsbecame unwelcoming . . .
Annabel Dawes looked up from her desk with a raised eyebrow. She was a serious woman for someone so young. Alexandra had guessed Miss Dawes’ age as somewhere in her early thirties, but it was difficult to tell. Her brown skin was smooth, untouched by laugh lines. Alexandra had never even seen her smile. What she did know of Annabel and her brother Benjamin was scant: they had been born to an Indian mother and an English father in Calcutta, and left India after the sepoy mutiny. Their grandfather had raised them and paid for Ben’s schooling and Annabel’s tutors, but both children found a keen interest in law.
Though Miss Dawes’ held the title ofclerk—women, after all, were barred from practicing law—she counseled out of her brother’s offices. On paper, Benjamin Dawes was the sole solicitor at B. Dawes, Esq. In truth, his sister ran half his firm and did everything short of litigating cases in the courts.
Miss Dawes set aside her pen and leaned back in her chair. “Very well,” she said, as if she’d been expecting this. “Reason cited?” Her accent still held the lilt of her homeland and childhood language of Urdu.
Alexandra paced the length of the carpet, her boots thudding. “He’s an absolute blackguard, a scoundrel, and a cad, and I loathe him.”
Miss Dawes raised an eyebrow. “You’ve described half the marriages in theton.The courts will need a bit more than loathing to grant you a divorce.”
“He married me under false pretenses.”
“Yes? Have you seen the marriage lines?” Miss Dawes sat up, her expression intent on some thought. “Did he sign under his alias?”
“He signed his real name whilst I was distracted, damn his eyes.” She kept pacing. “But surely Mr. Dawes could—”
“No,” Miss Dawes said with a sigh. A strand of black hair escaped her chignon as she gave her head a shake. “If your husband challenged the petition, he could argue the length of your marriage as tacit acceptance of the union. Consider it from the perspective of a judge: if you truly felt betrayed, you would have sought an annulment as soon as you discovered Mr. Thorne’s deceit. But it’s been over four years.”
Mr and Miss Dawes were the only ones who knew of her marriage before the gossips. The money she earned from publishing in the first two years of her marriage, after all, belonged to Nick by law. Then the Married Women’s Property Act passed in 1870, allowing married women to keep their own earnings. Finally, Alexandra could keep the income earned by her pen.
Alexandra paused, her gloved fingertips pressing to her palm. “I was heartbroken, Annabel,” she said softly. “I wanted . . .”
I wanted to forget.
As if the other woman heard Alexandra’s thoughts, her expression softened. “I understand,” Miss Dawes told her. “I even sympathize. I can only give counsel on the likely outcome.”
“Then counsel me on another option.”
Miss Dawes pressed her lips together and said her next words very carefully. “Ben could make a case for cruelty.”
Something squeezed in Alexandra’s chest. “But Nick hasn’t . . .”
At least, not in a way that mattered to a judge. Betrayal was not considered under the legal grounds for cruelty. Neither were broken hearts. No, those were carried often in marriages, always hidden, a great burden that wasn’t visible to the eye.
“Mr Thorne’s reputation in the Houses of Parliament is tumultuous,” Miss Dawes said. “He hasn’t bothered to refute rumors over the years. If you claimed he were cruel to you, the public would believe it. Ajudgewould believe it, no matter the arguments Mr. Thorne made in his defense.”
The pressure in Alexandra’s chest grew tighter. “But it would be a lie.”
“Yes.” Miss Dawes leaned forward, regarding Alexandra with a piercing gaze. The other woman’s eyes were a startling shade of gold, as bright as honey. “But these cases always become a matter of public opinion. Spectators will gawk at you from the viewing gallery, and they’ll decide whether what you’ve said is a truth or a lie. Your entire marriage will be up for public consumption and debate no matter what case we make. You know that.”
Alexandra’s legs were unsteady. She had come into this office with so much anger, but as she lowered herself into the chair across from Miss Dawes’ desk, she was only tired. “I can’t do that,” she whispered. “I can’t lie about him like that.”
Nick deserved her rage. He deserved her loathing and utter contempt for the way he got her to that anvil. Some days she remembered his smile at the lake, the way he spoke to her, and she wondered if any of it was real at all.
But she could not go into a courtroom and tell the public that kind of lie. Not when it was reality for so many women in worse circumstances.
The solicitor let out a breath. “Very well. New tack. Is there any chance that your husband has remained faithful to you after a four year separation?”
Alexandra held back a flinch. Why should it matter so much to her if Nick slept with someone? Why did she imagine him in bed with another woman, and why did that thought hurt so bloody much?
“No.” She raised her chin. She squashed the image from her mind. It would not help her here. “None at all.”
“Very well.” Miss Dawes began gathering her papers. “We shall try that option. Take this suggestion as you like, but the process would be more expedient with his cooperation.”
“You want me to talk to Nick,” Alexandra said flatly.
Miss Dawes put a hand up. “As I said, it’s a suggestion. If he challenges your case, this will become unpleasant. The gossips will be merciless.” She looked up, as if a thought occurred to her. “Are you planning to release a book anytime soon?”
