Page 61 of Miss Delancey’s Tragicomedy

“A duel! That can’t be… Is that legal here?” It was medieval! Dueling had been against the law in New York for decades. And if Trentham was alive, did that mean…?

“No. It isn’t legal. That must be why Robin had to go to Cana—”

Lynch and Trentham entered the room, both grumbling furiously, but the presence of the ladies silenced them.

Dessie straightened up. “What’s wrong?” she asked with convincing concern. Nothing in her expression gave away that she had overheard them arguing. She should be on stage. Ophelia struggled to keep her own countenance neutral while her mind whirled. Pistols? Had he killed his friend?

“You were there yesterday. You saw.” Trentham clenched his jaw. “Sir George is a blackguard. Felicity is trapped. And Lynch and Eli both agree there is nothing I can do.”

“Nothing permissible within the bounds of the law,” Lynch said.

Ophelia swallowed hard. Surely he wasn’t contemplating another duel. It was difficult to follow Dessie’s lead when she wanted to demand answers. Answers she was not entitled to.

Dessie said, “We saw that Sir George is cruel to Lady Townes. But not what made him so angry with her that he would display his brutishness before strangers.”

Trentham turned on the ball of his foot, then went to the nearest chair and sat. He folded forward, elbows on knees, and buried his face in his hands. Breathing in and out, deeply, slowly, he appeared to be fighting for self-control. Ophelia averted her eyes, embarrassed and a little frightened. This was a man who could become violent. Who had become violent. Maybe he was no better than Sir George.

Lynch said, “They may as well hear it from us before they read it in the gossip rags.”

“Blast it.” Trentham’s mouth twisted with disgust. “It’s all lies.”

“Of course, it is. Most rumors are.” Lynch faced Dessie. He was a serious man in general, but Ophelia didn’t recall ever having seen him so solemn. “Sir George has heard whispers that Lady Townes has been unfaithful.”

Ophelia and Dessie gasped at the same time.

“That’s impossible,” Ophelia said. “I don’t believe it for a minute.”

“Neither do I,” Dessie chimed in.

“No one will believe it,” Trentham said, without raising his head. “Yet the scandal will be ruinous.”

Silence fell. Ophelia heard nothing but the ticking of a wall clock until Dessie finally spoke.

“I hate to sound insensitive to Lady Townes’ predicament, but good may come of this.”

Ophelia cringed. Her sister found the silver lining in everything. Normally, that was one of her most endearing traits, but not now. Trentham’s gaze shot up, appalled.

“Dessie, don’t,” Lynch said.

She began pacing. “I only want to say that the Barringtons might think twice about letting Robin marry Lady Elizabeth. Surely, they’ll want to distance themselves from a scandalous association.”

Shaking his head, Trentham said, “Barrington is desperately in need of funds, or he would not have allowed me to court his daughter in the first place. Scandal isn’t enough to dissuade him. Believe me, my reputation is not spotless.”

“I believe you,” Dessie said with a sniff.

That was an understatement if ever there was one. Assuming what Dessie had overheard was true. Maybe it wasn’t! Ophelia hoped Dessie had misheard. She did that sometimes.

Dessie rested her gaze squarely upon Trentham. “Is that why you volunteered to be the sacrificial lamb?”

“The what?”

“Wooing Lady Elizabeth.” She returned to her pacing, stomping out the words. “Propping up the Barringtons with your fortune, saving Lady Elizabeth from penury. Are you doing this so more stuffy aristocrats will like you?”

Trentham followed Dessie’s movement with his eyes. “Simplistically stated, but yes.” A hint of his more typical archness sneaked into his tone, but it was tempered with annoyance.

“But that’s absurd. And cruel. She doesn’t want you!” Dessie exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “She wants me to convince Lynch to talk you out of courting her.”

Trentham’s eyes darkened. “Oh, good God.”