Page 89 of Miss Delancey’s Tragicomedy

Their father had been generous with Felicity, despite whatever reservations he may have had about Sir George.

Derry nodded. “The income is two thousand per year. Have you any idea where that money has gone?”

“Well, no. As I said, I don’t interfere.” He felt guilty now. Should he have stuck his nose into her affairs? “I assumed Cavanaugh would have alerted me if there was a problem.”

“Then let’s start with this.” Derry sorted through the papers, then placed two of them on the desk, turning them so that the words were upside-right for Trentham. He tapped one with his fingertip. “These are promissory notes. Signed by Sir George. He has been borrowing from Lady Townes’ estate.”

Trentham skimmed the words for himself. Sir George was in debt to Felicity’s estate for over ten thousand pounds. “Is this legal?”

“Unfortunately, yes. There were no restrictions written into the contract. Your sister is entitled to use her own discretion regarding the funds. Even had you stepped in as trustee, unless you could prove coercion, the court would likely find that she is within her rights to loan money to her husband, or even give him the money outright. There is precedent for this.”

“He coerced her.” But he wouldn’t be able to prove it.

Derry pulled the papers back. “More concerning is the fact that he had to borrow. Lady Townes’ income, along with Sir George’s funds, should have been more than enough to keep up with expenditures. So I did a little digging. The Dainswick property is entailed, and the income from it has fallen in recent years. Moreover, Sir George is known to be a spendthrift who makes hasty, risky investments. And there are gambling debts and payments to mistresses.”

“She is supporting his mistresses?”

“In a sense, yes.”

“Good God.” Trentham sorted his thoughts. “What you are saying is that Sir George is a fool to want a divorce. Yet he must know all this. And he still intends to file suit.”

“He’ll be considerably financially disadvantaged. But not bankrupted. Let me explain.” Derry set two different pages before him, and pointed to one. “These are trifling debts: tailor, jewelers, and such. It’s probably not worth going after those. They won’t press for payment. But these”—he indicated the other page—“are the gentlemen to whom he owes debts of honor. He’ll prioritize those.”

Gambling losses. Which Trentham could see were substantial.

“Do you think gambling is why he had to borrow from Felicity’s estate?”

“Undoubtedly. He is robbing Peter to pay Paul. But he is far from being in desperate straits. He can make interest payments. Sell family jewels if a creditor becomes too insistent.”

Trentham merely nodded. Sir George was not the only gentleman to gamble himself destitute. And yet, fellows hung on for years, juggling debt, tapping family and friends, or marrying well.

Derry paused as Henson entered with a tray of coffee and biscuits. To Trentham’s surprise, the solicitor accepted a cup and plate. How very sociable of him!

Taking his own cup, Trentham said, “And where does this lead us?”

Derry sipped his coffee, then set the cup on the desk. He missed the water mark by several inches. Trentham tried to ignore the vague unease that this caused. He kept his own drink in his hand.

“I think you should buy up his debt.”

“Buy up…Ah!” Of course! “And then call it in all at once?” Trentham smirked. There would be great satisfaction in that. Ruining the man. His smile fell away. “But I don’t see how that helps Lady Townes’ case.”

Derry’s expression shuttered down. He shook his head. “Frankly, it is not in my client’s best interest to allow her suit to proceed. Her case is not strong or likely to grow stronger.”

Not strong? Guilty as the man was? “But we have what we need. Witnesses to his cruelty and infidelity.”

Derry said nothing, but merely waited, looking down at his papers. Trentham squeezed the arms of his chair, furious, until the memory of Eli’s disgust with him intruded. Those witnesses, those unwilling witnesses, would be doubly harmed. Felicity herself would be harmed. It was his anger fueling this desire for vengeance. Deep in the recesses of his conscience, he felt a moment’s sympathy for Gilliam, who had surely been driven by similar thoughts of revenge.

He blew out a breath. “So, then, what is the new plan?”

“My recommendation is to threaten him with calling in the debt if he files for divorce.”

Trentham scowled. “So you mean she should stay with him. Even knowing what he is.”

“Legally and reputationally, this is the best option for your sister. They may maintain the status quo. Or better, separate, but remain wed. You will have perpetual hold over Sir George, so long as you carry his debt. And this can all be handled quietly.”

It was blackmail. It was sordid. Gad! It was binding two unwilling people together in marriage. He was king of that.

Yet Derry was right in that it was the most sensible route.