“Mrs. Blunt,” she said, smiling. She was clad in a fashionable cambric morning dress, her magnificent auburn hair caught up in a plaited roll at her nape. “This is indeed a surprise.”

“Mrs. Blunt.” Mr. Finchley bowed. Like his wife, he was informally dressed, wearing a loose-fitting sack coat and trousers of light gray cloth.

Julia greeted them both, smiling woodenly as they traded pleasantries. All the while, she was conscious of Mr. Finchley’s attention. His eyes were remarkably keen behind his spectacles. She had the impression he’d been expecting her.

“Forgive me,” she said at last. “This isn’t a social call. It’s about a legal matter. I’m afraid I didn’t know where to find your offices.”

“Not at all,” Mr. Finchley said. “These days I’m at home more than I’m at my office.”

“You can blame me for that.” Mrs. Finchley exchanged a private smile with her husband before withdrawing. “Shall I send in tea?”

“Oh no,” Julia said. “I won’t be staying long.”

Mrs. Finchley seemed to understand. Professing herself to be available if either of them should have need of her, she exited the room in a rustle of fabric.

Mr. Finchley motioned for Julia to sit down.

She took a seat in one of the carved chairs, folding her hands in her lap as he sat across from her.

“How can I help you, ma’am?” he asked.

Repressed anxiety made Julia’s stomach tremble. It was difficult enough being back in London, but to have ventured out on her own—entirely alone—with no maid or anyone else to support her had taken a level of courage she hadn’t known she possessed.

She was driven by the same compulsion that had prompted her to challenge the shopkeeper in Hardholme—a deep desire to protect her family. She wanted to protect herself, too. To reassure herself that she was married, in law as well as in spirit.

“My husband recently told me that he consulted with you before our marriage,” she said. “He mentioned having asked your advice on a hypothetical question.”

Mr. Finchley neither confirmed nor denied it.

Julia pressed on in spite of his silence. “I wondered if I might consult with you on the same subject?”

A glint of sympathy flickered in Mr. Finchley’s gaze. “You may ask me whatever you like, of course. I’ll advise you if I can.”

“Very well.” She cleared her throat. “Could you please tell me . . . If a person—a man—married someone under a false name, would that marriage be legal?”

Mr. Finchley didn’t bat an eye. “That depends. Were the banns published?”

“Does it matter?”

“Very much so. The object of publication is publicity. If a false name is used when calling the banns, it defeats the entire purpose of the exercise. A marriage in those circumstances would be invalid.” He paused. “Now, if it were a marriage by license . . .”

“Yes?” She leaned forward in her seat.

“A license isn’t a matter of public notoriety. If one of the parties used a false name to obtain it, the marriage might still be held valid, providing certain criteria are met.”