Page 34 of Miss Delancey’s Tragicomedy

“And Dessie is well?”

“Except for the weeping.” Lynch scratched his chin, looking bemused. “Did you know that is normal?”

“No.” Trentham shook his head. What a wonder. “I’d hate to be a woman.”

Lynch laughed.

The joy started to dim. He couldn’t envision Lady Elizabeth in such a state anytime soon. The thought was faintly repugnant to him. He would be responsible for—in fact, duty bound to—get the girl into that state.

A little sheepish now, Lynch begged, “Don’t let Dessie know I told you.”

“You didn’t. I guessed.” Something else occurred to him. “When Dr. Ballantine came to my house, he mentioned he’d been to yours that morning.” Another clue he’d missed. “And Miss Delancey was stitching a baby’s cap a few days ago. I’m sure of it.”

“Was she? Well, then. Still, don’t say anything. Dessie says it’s too early to share the news.” A cloud passed over his eyes. “Things happen.”

“They won’t.” He felt a bit uneasy making that statement. Things very well could. “When do you think? Do you know?”

“Six months? Maybe five.”

Trentham winced. Lynch had hoped to bring his bill forward in six months. “Should you postpone? Give yourself a bit more time?”

Lynch shook his head. “Dessie won’t hear of it. We’d lose ground.”

Something Trentham had noticed: it was always “we.” Even when talking of his political struggle, Lynch included his wife. A baby would change some of that. Wouldn’t it?

“Once her sister leaves, Dessie will need more—” Trentham wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence, but Dessie would undoubtedly need more of something.

“Fortunately, Ophelia has agreed to stay. Eight months, perhaps a year. It’s awfully good of her. Dessie relies on her more than one might think.”

A year? Lord help him. Their paths would keep crossing. They would continue to attend the same gatherings. This was not going to work. He was too drawn to her. And not only physically, though that appeal was undeniable. He could control his response to that. With effort. What he couldn’t fight was the something about her that lightened his heart.

He managed a reply. “I suspect that goes both ways.”

“Well,” Lynch said, “mutual reliance is something you and I understand.” He leaned against the stone balustrade and let out a long sigh. “Am I supposed to say something or not?”

“I don’t know.” But that was why he had chased Lynch down. For his opinion. Or rather, his blessing. “Yes.”

“It is a good plan. An excellent plan.”

“But?”

“But a terrible idea.”

“Why?”

“You won’t be happy. And neither will Lady Elizabeth.”

“I don’t understand the harm. We aren’t happy now.” He rolled his shoulders. Annoyed. “What else is she to do? Her father hasn’t a sixpence to scratch with. Besides, after practically declaring myself tonight, I rather have to court her. It will be expected.”

Lynch was quiet a long time. At last, he said, “I’ve said my piece. Maybe I shouldn’t have. I hope I am wrong. I’ll stand behind you, you know that.”

“Thank you.” He glanced about. The Bemings were gone and the temperature had dropped. The air felt misty. The pounding in his head had dulled to a throb. “I think we’ve been out here long enough. You should go join Dessie.”

“Come with me and say hello. You haven’t yet. She’ll think you’re snubbing her. Ophelia too.”

“I’d better not.” He couldn’t. “She’ll see it in my face that you told me. Give me a night to figure out how to fudge.”

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