Page 17 of Debtor’s Daughter (Wicked Sons #11)
Dear Larkin,
My father had his staff do some digging, and it appears Mr Thompson’s story is exactly as he informed you. He did a very lucrative deal with the East India Company and is a wealthy man indeed. Yes, it was precious stones and Indian textiles. From all we can gather, he is a decent fellow who always dealt fairly with everyone. No dirt, no scandal. I hope this is what you wanted.
―Excerpt from a letter from Mr Felix Knight (son of Mr Gabriel and Lady Helena Knight) to The Hon’ble Larkin Weston.
11 th November 1850, Hyde Park, London.
Mr Thompson was as good as his word and not only called the next day, but every day that followed. Whilst Maggie and Caro chaperoned their aunt over the first few days of this long-awaited courtship, the billing, cooing, and reminiscing soon became more than they could bear. So, they left Wallace outside in the hallway, informing Mr Thompson that the door must be left open, and they expected him to behave as a gentleman.
To be fair, this did not appear to be an issue, for the man was so obviously enamoured of their aunt that he seemed entirely in awe of her. Maggie rather hoped this would wear off in time or Auntie might become entirely unmanageable.
Maggie’s own courtship blossomed more slowly however, as with all the excitement over Mr Thompson she had not seen Larkin alone since the day he hadn’t kissed her, drat him. However, this morning she was accompanying Caro to Montagu House, where her sister would sit as Larkin painted her. Of course, Aunt Connie was supposed to take turns with her, chaperoning Caro, but Connie was now far too busy getting reacquainted with her beau. Mrs Harris, Miss Barrington’s governess, had offered her services as chaperone, though, so Maggie might also spend a little time with the Lady Montagu whilst she was there.
They travelled to Montagu house together with Larkin, after a rather trying morning for Maggie. Between Caro deciding what she ought to wear to be immortalised for posterity and Aunt Connie dithering over the perfect outfit to see her darling Cecil, both Maggie and Sally were at their wits’ end by the time everyone was dressed.
Still, it was worth it, for Larkin proclaimed the bonnet Caro was wearing entirely charming and told her he was glad she had worn green, for it brought out the colour of her eyes.
Maggie and Caro went to pay a brief call upon Lady Montagu whilst Larkin prepared his materials for the sitting. They found her reclining with her feet up, a book in hand, and surrounded by flowers.
“Goodness!” Maggie exclaimed as they entered the room, realising on closer inspection that she was surrounded by orchids. Never having ever seen one such bloom before, to see such a profusion of them was stunning.
“Oh, Mrs Finchley, Miss Caroline, how glad I am to see you,” Lady Montagu said, smiling warmly as she saw the two women.
“But how beautiful they are,” Caro said, moving to look closer at the delicate flowers. “Wherever did they come from?”
“Montagu,” she said simply. “They’re my punishment.”
Maggie and Caro exchanged a look of bewilderment. “They’re a punishment?” Maggie repeated, wondering if they’d misheard.
“I wish someone would punish me with flowers,” Caro said with a sigh.
Lady Montagu laughed and shook her head. “Indeed, you do not. These little beauties are appallingly temperamental and die at the slightest provocation. Put them in a draught, they die. Too much water, they die. Too little, they die. Too much sun, they die. You get the idea, I trust?” she lamented, putting a hand to her head. “And they’re so very lovely, every time one of them dies I feel utterly monstrous.”
Maggie and Caro laughed, rather delighted by the Machiavellian punishment.
“Whatever did you do to deserve such torment?” Maggie asked, for as Lady Montagu had brought it up, she did not think it too indelicate to ask.
The marchioness, feet on a low stool, raised her skirt an inch, revealing a heavily bandaged ankle. “I climbed to the top of the library steps when no one was around—something Montagu forbade years ago, fearing I'd break my neck. They are rather high, I will admit. Well, I defied him, naturally, and overreached myself, trying to lean over for a book instead of repositioning the ladder. I slipped several rungs, though I did not fall, mind. But I did twist my ankle. So, this is Montagu’s riposte,” she said with a sigh. “He was so furious.”
“So now you must try not to kill them all?” Maggie asked, grinning.
“Yes. He’s far too clever for his own good, though he’s done this before, when we were courting. Everyone else sent me beautiful hot house cut flowers that were supposed to die in a few days, and he sent me one of these wretched things. I drove myself mad, reading every book I could find about the care of orchids, determined I would not have to confess to having killed it.”
“And did you learn to look after it and keep it alive?” Caro asked, her pretty eyes dancing with mirth.
“Of course not!” she exclaimed in annoyance. “The dratted thing died. Not that I admitted it to him until after we were married,” she said smugly.
“Oh dear,” Maggie said, pressing her fingers to her lips to stop herself from laughing.
Lady Montagu snorted at her expression and shook her head. “Don’t you worry, I shall get my own back. Just see if I don’t,” she said darkly.
At that moment, the butler appeared and announced that Mr Weston was ready for them.
Maggie and Caro got to their feet, promising to see Lady Montagu again later, and followed the butler to where Larkin was waiting.
Maggie met Larkin’s eyes as they entered the room, finding such warmth there that her heart did a happy little dance behind her ribs. For the next hour, he was all business, however, as he settled to his work. The time passed pleasantly for Maggie, who enjoyed watching Larkin work far more than the book she was pretending to read. Caro, however, was getting fidgety by the time he called a halt.
“Thank you, ladies. If you’d like to stretch your legs and take tea with Lady Montagu, I shall see you again in an hour for today’s last sitting.”
Maggie looked up and nodded as Caro got to her feet and smothered a yawn. “Sitting still is so very tiring,” she complained as she walked from the room.
“Go ahead, darling, I’ll be right there,” Maggie told her, taking far longer than she needed to put her bookmark in place and set the book aside.
She wanted desperately to exchange a few private words with Larkin but at that moment the butler entered with a message for him, and she did not feel she could stay. Hurrying from the room to catch up with Caro, she almost collided with a woman walking in the opposite direction.
Mrs Regina Harris stumbled back, having been too lost in her own thoughts to have noticed anyone else was around.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” the woman she had bumped into said, though Regina did not believe it had been her fault at all.
“No, it was entirely my—” Regina began and then stopped as she noticed the way the woman was staring at her, mouth open, eyes wide with shock. Regina froze and then returned the favour.
“Maggie!” she whispered, appalled as she knew she had been recognised.
“Mmmff!” Maggie said in lieu of the name she’d been about to utter, as Regina clamped her hand over her mouth.
“Hush!” she said desperately, grasping hold of Maggie’s hand and dragging her into a lovely room that seemed to be a small, private parlour. She closed the door and leaned back against it as Maggie stared at her in shock.
“What on earth—”
“Mrs Harris. My name is Mrs Regina Harris, and you do not know me,” she said firmly, glaring at Maggie. “You’ve never seen me before in your life. Do you understand?”
Maggie opened and closed her mouth, considering, and then gave a decisive nod. “Very well, Mrs Harris, ” she said, before moving closer to her and giving her an impulsive hug.
Regina sighed and hugged her back. Though she had not known Maggie as well as she would have liked, for they had not moved in the same circles, she had warmed to her at once on the occasions they’d met.
“Everyone thinks you’re dead!” Maggie exclaimed as she stood back, adding in a strangled voice, “Good lord, another one. Is it an epidemic, I wonder?”
Regina did not know what she meant by that but answered the part of the question she understood. “No, they don’t,” she said with a smile. “My family—at least those I care to know—are well aware I am very much alive.”
“And do they know where you are? What are you even doing here… wait. Mrs Harris? You’re the governess!” Maggie all but squealed.
“Keep your voice down!” Regina hissed. “Yes, I am the governess, and I’m most content in my position, and I swear if you give me away, I shall never forgive you, Maggie, you must understand that.”
Maggie sobered at once, presumably recalling just why Regina had disappeared. “Of course. Forgive me, only… only it was rather a shock to see you, out of the blue.”
Regina nodded. “I understand, and I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you, but I beg you, don’t do or say anything to give me away. Please, Maggie. If the Barringtons realise I’ve been lying all this time, it would be terrible.”
Maggie let out a breath and nodded. “You may rely upon me, but won’t you come and visit me so we may speak in private? Please, my dear?”
Regina considered this, remembering what she had heard about Maggie’s family, and the death of her father. “Very well. Give me your address.”
Maggie fumbled in her reticule for a pencil and a notebook and jotted down the address.
“I was so very sorry to hear of what befell Mr Merrivale,” Regina said, as he had been a kindly and jovial man who had always made her laugh. “And for what it must have meant for you too, Maggie. My condolences.”
Maggie looked up and handed her the scrap of paper. “Thank you. We shall talk more soon, though. Promise me, Mrs Harris.”
Regina returned a rueful smile and nodded. “I will come when I am able to, I promise,” she replied. Heading to the door, she cracked it open and looked out. “Come on,” she said, watching as Maggie walked back out into the elegant hallway.
Maggie turned, raising a hand as she carried on toward Lady Montagu’s parlour.
“Goodbye, Maggie,” Regina said softly, and turned away.
“Are you all right?” Larkin asked Maggie as the carriage conveyed them home. Caro was dozing, her head resting against the side of the carriage after the exertion of sitting still for several hours.
Maggie jolted and looked up, smiling as she saw the concern in Larkin’s eyes.
“I am,” she said. “I beg your pardon, I was only wool gathering. How is the painting progressing?”
“Well, it’s not a painting yet,” he said with a laugh. “I’m just sketching the composition in, making sure everything is balanced, and trying to capture Miss Caroline’s likeness. With luck, I might start painting tomorrow and I shan’t need her to sit every day.”
Maggie nodded, rather disappointed that she would not be in Larkin’s company more often.
Larkin glanced over at Caro and grinned as she gave a soft snore. He looked up and Maggie and patted the seat beside him. She shook her head, looking nervously at Caro, who did indeed appear to be fast asleep.
“Coward,” Larkin taunted.
Maggie glared at him. Though she hardly knew how she dared, she got to her feet just as the carriage lurched to one side on the uneven road. Maggie gasped, overbalanced, and fell heavily into Larkin’s lap.
“Ooof!” he muttered, giving a strangled groan as she wriggled, trying desperately to get up. “Oh, no you don’t,” he said, sounding a trifle breathless, but holding onto her waist. “I’ve got you now and I don’t intend to let you go.”
“Larkin!” Maggie exclaimed in an undertone. “We can’t, not with—”
Larkin pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her.
“Now, then. I finally have your undivided attention.”
Maggie snorted. “You had that several days ago and did not bother to take advantage of it. So it’s hardly my fault.”
“Ah, still cross with me for not kissing you, I take it?”
“No,” Maggie retorted with dignity. A big fat lie, but she wasn’t about to admit to that. “It’s no trouble to me whether or not you wish to kiss me.”
“It isn’t?” Larkin asked innocently. “Oh, well. In that case, I won’t bother. I don’t go about kissing women who do not sincerely desire me to do so.”
“Oh!” Maggie said, indignant. “You are the outside of enough. Now you just listen here,” she said crossly, before thinking better of her words and grasping hold of his lapels.
Leaning in, she pressed her mouth hard to his and then pulled back with a gasp, as she realised how horribly bold she was being. But as she covered her mouth with her hand, she saw the slow grin dawning on Larkin’s face, and the delight glittering in his dark eyes.
“Why Mrs Finchley, I do believe you want me to kiss you after all.”
“Oh, finally you catch on. I was beginning to think I must take out a notice in the paper to make you—”
Maggie gasped as his mouth covered hers, his arms pulling her close. She melted, only too ready to submit as the feeling of being held close, securely against a man she trusted. He swept away so much of the misery and anxiety of the past months, kissing her deeply, tenderly, one hand cradling her face as though he held something precious.
When he finally pulled back, she was trembling.
“Much as it pains me to say this, you’d better return to your seat. This is Berwick Street,” he said with obvious regret.
Maggie smothered a squeak of alarm and flung herself back down on the opposite seat just as the carriage drew to a halt.
Caro stretched and yawned sleepily. “Are we there yet?”
“Yes, dear,” Maggie said, smoothing her skirts with agitation and glaring at Larkin for not having warned her sooner.
He winked and she bit back a smile. How she wished the journey had been longer, that Caro had not been with them, that she could have stayed in his arms for the rest of the day. She looked away from him but some of what she felt must have been visible in her expression, for when he handed her down from the carriage, Larkin’s eyes were dark and full of unspoken need as he held her gaze, making her blush scarlet.
“Thank you, Mr Weston,” Caro said, heading for the front door.
“Yes, thank you, Lar— I mean, Mr Weston,” Maggie said, still too flustered to think straight.
“It was my pleasure,” he told her with a roguish smile. “And don’t forget, I’m just next door if you need anything.”
With a devilish wink, he escorted her to her front door and Maggie almost fell up the front step she was so discombobulated by his provocative comment.