Page 18 of Debtor’s Daughter (Wicked Sons #11)
Jenkins is still winning. All three rounds done. I hope you’re up to his weight, Lars, for he’s a tricky bastard and extremely unpleasant. I want this done so we can get him out of our club. See you Tuesday for the final game.
―Excerpt from a letter from Mr Leo Hunt (Son of Mr Nathanial and Mrs Alice Hunt) to The Hon’ble Larkin Weston.
11 th November 1850, Hyde Park, London.
“Af’ernoon, Westie!”
Larkin didn’t even blink as he entered his kitchen in search of food to discover Gideon sitting at the table there. Barnes was with him, helping the lad line up a row of tin soldiers. Larkin smiled, pleased at his forethought as he remembered the parcel that had arrived that morning.
“Master Gideon,” Larkin replied, giving his valet an amused glance.
“The lad arrived about an hour ago. I went round and squared it with Mrs Moody. Reckon she was glad to have a bit of peace,” Barnes said with a grin. “So we played catch in the garden for a bit, didn’t we, eh?” said he added, ruffling the boy’s hair.
“Yes, an’ then Sally came, and we played hide and seek. Sally and Barnes are very good at hiding,” Gideon added thoughtfully.
Larkin’s eyebrows shot up, and he levelled an enquiring look at his now red-faced valet.
“Er, well, we was just larking about, like,” he said weakly.
“Hmmm.” Larkin said, grinning, for he knew full well Barnes would never dally with the maid if he were not serious.
“Ah, there you are, sir. Thought I heard the door,” Mrs Goodall said, bustling into the kitchen. “I just popped next door for a cup of tea with Mrs Moody, seeing as how Master Gideon was being looked after by Mr Barnes. I made some scones earlier. I’ll fetch them out with some of that jam you like and make some tea, how’s that?”
“Excellent,” Larkin replied and then glanced at Gideon, whose eyes had lit up at the mention of scones.
“Bring two plates,” he called.
“Well, I’m not daft, now, am I?” Mrs Goodall retorted, and went off to see to it.
Once they’d divested themselves of coats and bonnets, Caro pushed open the door to the parlour ahead of Maggie and stopped in her tracks as she discovered Aunt Connie cuddled up on the sofa with Mr Thompson.
“Auntie!” she cried in shock.
Aunt Connie grinned unrepentantly at Maggie and Caro as they came in, then held out her hand, upon which a magnificent ring glittered. The biggest amethyst Maggie had ever seen in her life was set in gold and surrounded by diamonds, but it still didn’t sparkle as brightly as Connie.
“We’re getting married!” she exclaimed, surging to her feet to envelop both Caro and Maggie in hugs. “Cecil says he doesn’t want to waste another minute, so he’s already bought the licence. We shall be married at the weekend!”
“Oh! We’re so happy for you, Auntie!” Caro exclaimed, as Maggie kissed Mr Thompson’s cheek in congratulation, which made him blush and shuffle his feet.
“What wonderful news!” Maggie said, meaning it, for she believed that Cecil Thompson was everything he purported to be, and that Aunt Connie would be truly happy with him. She certainly deserved to be after so many years of devotion. “I am so glad to have an Uncle Cecil. Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you, Maggie,” Cecil said gravely. “I know I’m not really good enough, but Connie never seemed to mind it, so I hope you won’t neither.”
“Dear Cecil, I cannot think of anyone I would rather entrust with my aunt’s happiness,” Maggie said, as she’d seen the reverence and respect with which Cecil treated his beloved and knew he really would do anything to make her happy.
“Thank you. I’d give her the moon if she wanted it, I’ll admit, but we want you to be happy too, and Caro. I want you to know that Connie and I have discussed it, and we want you both to come and live with us in Belgravia.”
Maggie’s mouth fell open. At once it was everything she had dreamed of, though it had been Caro she had imagined marrying a wealthy man. This was even better, for she did not believe Cecil would begrudge them anything, which meant Caro had time to mature and experience the season, knowing there were more to come. Yet now Maggie found she did not wish to leave the house she had professed to hate. The idea of moving away from Larkin was a wrench she did not need right now. She scrambled for an excuse why they could not possibly do such a thing and realised at once she had the perfect reason.
“Why, that is most wonderfully kind of you, Cecil, and so very thoughtful, and Caro and I will be delighted to do so, only not just yet. Newlyweds need their privacy and, no matter how large the house, you need time to get used to married life. Let us leave things as they are for a few weeks, and then we can discuss it again.”
Cecil looked a little crestfallen at having his beneficence refused but Connie patted his arm. “Maggie is right, love. They’ll be fine here for a few more weeks. More than fine, by my reckoning,” she added in an undertone.
Maggie shot her a sharp glance, wondering what she knew, but Connie only returned an enigmatic smile and returned to her Cecil, standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!
“Now, now Gerard, don’t be jealous!” she scolded, wagging a finger at the cuckoo clock.
“Gerard?” Maggie and Caro said in confusion.
Connie sighed and nodded sadly. “Yes. In my despair over Cecil disappearing, I made a foolish mistake. For Gerard loved me madly the first year I came out, but he died, the poor dear, of tuberculosis. Such a frail, wan little fellow he was, but utterly devoted.”
Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!
“Yes, yes, Gerard. I know. It was a most upsetting mistake, I see that now. You’re still very welcome here, I assure you,” she said, turning to look at her husband to be, who was glowering at the cuckoo clock with an expression of displeasure. “Now, Cecil, do be reasonable.”
“I mean it, Connie, I’ll give you anything you want in the world, but I won’t have that blasted clock.”
“Yes, dear. We’ll talk about it later,” she said soothingly, giving poor Cecil a comforting pat on the arm. “Do come and sit down again and I’ll pour you a nice cup of tea.”
Maggie and Caro exchanged glances, trying hard not to laugh as they made their escape and left the two lovebirds to their negotiations.
Maggie took herself off downstairs in search of Gideon, intending to give Mrs Moody the good news and ask her to send a fresh pot of tea up to the parlour. Frankly, she thought Cecil needed something stronger, but she was certain Connie could handle him and would know better than she what to do.
“Well, isn’t that the loveliest news!” Mrs Moody exclaimed, putting the kettle back on the range. “A wedding, and so soon. Oh, shall I make a cake?”
Maggie hesitated and, to her credit, Mrs Moody understood at once. “Ah, Mrs Goodall should have the privilege, of course.”
“Well, perhaps you could work together?” Maggie suggested, for the two ladies seemed to get along rather well.
“I’d be willing,” Mrs Moody said at once. “But I’ll not step on anyone’s toes.”
“I’ll speak to her,” Maggie promised, and then looked around. “Is Gideon with Priddy?”
Mrs Moody laughed and shook her head. “No, pet. He’s next door. Barnes has been looking after him and I don’t doubt Mrs Goodall is feeding him too.”
“Oh,” Maggie said, sidling towards the back door. She had not expected to have an excuse to see Larkin again so soon, but she wasn’t about to let it slip by. “In that case, I’d best go and see what he’s up to, and I can speak to Mrs Goodall at the same time.”
“Right you are, missus,” Mrs Moody replied, busy with preparing tea for upstairs.
Maggie hurried out of the door. It was dark now but there was enough moonlight to guide her as she made her way up the garden and across the lawn, hiking up her skirts to keep them off the wet grass. Feeling very naughty, she rapped on the back door, which opened a moment later.
“Mrs Finchley.” Barnes smiled at her, not looking the least bit surprised. “Come in out of the cold. Young Master Gideon is taking tea with Mr Weston, if you’d care to join them?”
“I would, thank you, Barnes,” she said. “Might I have a quick word with Mrs Goodall first, though?”
“Of course,” Barnes said, moving away and busying himself elsewhere in the kitchen to give them some privacy.
“Oh, what lovely news!” Mrs Goodall exclaimed, once Maggie had delivered her message. “I’m so happy for her, and how romantic it is, after all these years. As for the cake, I’d be happy to work with Mrs Moody. Truth be told, from what I’ve seen, she’s far cleverer at fancy icing than I am, though I’d swear my fruitcakes are better, so I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.”
“Thank you, dear Mrs Goodall! I knew I could rely upon you,” Maggie said, before following Barnes up the stairs to the parlour.
Here she found Larkin and Gideon sprawled on the rug before the fire, arranging a veritable army of tin soldiers. As Gideon only had a half dozen, she thought these must belong to Larkin. Spying the battered tin open beside him, she smiled as she realised he had hunted them out so Gideon could play with them.
Barnes smiled at her and melted away, leaving her to watch Larkin as the two of them enacted a ferocious battle. A sensation rose in Maggie’s chest as she saw the trust Gideon had in him, and the easy way they interacted and her heart swelled, feeling as though it might burst as she gazed at two of the people she loved most in the world. Loved. Her breath caught as the word lingered in her mind, settling beneath her skin and warming her. Of course. She loved him.
“Mama!”
Gideon jumped to his feet and ran to hug her, crushing her skirts, not that she cared. She bent down to kiss him, but he pushed her off and grabbed her hand instead.
“Look, look. Westie gave me all his soldiers! All of ’em!” he said, looking so overwhelmed by such bounty, Maggie had to laugh.
“Why, what a magnificent gift, darling. I hope you said thank you?”
“I did!” Gideon said solemnly. “Didn’t I, Westie?”
“You did indeed, and very well done it was too,” Larkin said, getting to his feet before turning to Maggie with a sheepish grin. “I had them sent up from Mitcham for him. It seemed a shame they were all gathering dust when they might be sent back into action.”
“That was so very thoughtful of you, and I am sorry to interrupt your battle plans, but I was told there was tea,” Maggie said.
Larkin laughed and guided her to the chair nearest the fire. “Indeed, there is, and scones too. I’m afraid we got distracted,” he said, gesturing to the half-eaten scones on the table. It was a measure of Gideon’s excitement that he had left a scone piled high with jam and cream in favour of playing soldiers with Larkin.
“Well, shall I—? I shall pour myself a cup. Would you like another?” Maggie said hurriedly, changing her words just in time before she asked, ‘ shall I be mother?’ Though she knew very well what she wanted, and Larkin had promised not to trifle with her, he had also been very clear that he was unsure of his feelings, and of what it was he wanted. Despite the now clear overtures he had made, she still did not feel confident enough to presume.
Larkin agreed to another cup and asked her to make herself at home, so she refreshed his drink before pouring her own. Taking the seat opposite her, he accepted the cup as Gideon continued playing on the rug between them, making occasional explosive noises as his soldiers battled on. Larkin met Maggie’s eye over her son’s head and smiled.
“This is nice,” he observed, holding her gaze as he took a sip of his tea.
Maggie’s heart skipped, wondering if he intended the words to mean what she wished them to. “Is it?” she asked, knowing she was falling now, and terrified lest she was allowing her feelings to run away with her. Gideon was not his son and, just because Larkin was kind to him, did not mean he wished to be his father.
Larkin held her gaze, his expression growing serious. “I think so. It seems rather perfect to me.”
Maggie’s breath hitched, and she gave a startled laugh, for the words meant so much and surely, they were unmistakable. “To me too,” she replied, though her reply was little more than a whisper.
Larkin smiled at her and set down his cup, getting back to the floor to play with Gideon. Impulsively, for she knew it was well past her son’s bedtime, Maggie joined them, which delighted Gideon, and they passed a wonderful hour, eating scones and drinking tea whilst Maggie learned the correct way to play with tin soldiers, though they teased her mercilessly for being unable to make a sound like a gun firing. Exasperated, she simply said ‘ bang ,’ which made the two males fall about laughing.
Finally worn out, Gideon put his head down on his arms, gazing happily at his neatly ranked army as his eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep.
“I should take him home,” Maggie said, regretful that their delightful evening was over.
“Yes, but not yet. Come here,” Larkin said.
He had returned to the chair by the fire, and now patted his knee, a wicked glint sparkling in his eyes that made her breath catch.
Though she knew she ought not, Maggie did not need asking twice and got to her feet. She stood before Larkin, looking down and hesitating, her courage failing her at the last moment. Larkin laughed and reached up, grasping her waist and pulling her onto his lap. She sat with a flurry of skirts and a smothered gasp, not wanting to disturb Gideon.
“Larkin!” she exclaimed, torn between laughter and scolding him. “You can’t keep doing that.”
“I certainly can, and I shall,” he told her plainly. “Besides, the last time you fell. It wasn’t my fault. I merely profited.”
Maggie sighed and linked her arms around his neck.
“Magdelina,” he said, his voice soft, his handsome face cast in bronze by the flickering firelight. “How beautiful you are.”
“Not compared with Caro,” she said with a laugh. “My nose is too long, my mouth too wide, and I get freckles the moment the sun comes out.”
Larkin shook his head. “You’re wrong, you know. True beauty isn’t perfect, if you ask me. Your nose gives you character and speaks of a woman with courage and determination. I cannot wait to see your freckles, which sound enchanting, and as for your mouth—” He lifted his hand, tracing the outline of her lips with a fingertip that made her shiver. “Your mouth makes me think wicked things, Maggie.”
Maggie swallowed, aware of the tension prickling between them, of the heat that flared inside her at the way his voice had dropped, becoming husky and seductive.
“What kind of things?” she asked breathlessly, knowing she ought not, but then she ought not be here, alone with him, with only her sleeping son as a chaperone.
Larkin nuzzled the skin beneath her ear and inhaled deeply before pressing his mouth to her throat. “I want to kiss your mouth for hours and hours, and I want to feel the touch of your lips upon my skin,” he murmured, trailing a damp path of kisses up and along her jawline. He lingered at the corner of her mouth, not quite touching her lips, until Maggie could not stand to wait another moment and turned her head. He kissed her then, his arms tightening around her as his tongue swept in, devouring her with an intensity that made her bones and her mind turn to warm honey, melting in the heat growing between them.
A loud snore filled the room, breaking them apart as Gideon mumbled in his sleep and turned over.
Maggie held a hand to her heart, appalled to think he might have awoken and caught them together. Whilst she did not think Gideon would mind having a new papa, and indeed, would be delighted with his beloved Westie being around all the time, she did not want him to be disappointed if things did not work out, or if they did, to discover their relationship in such a shocking way.
“I must go,” she said, trying to get up, but Larkin held her back.
“I know you must, but—I don’t want you to. Either of you,” he said, holding her gaze. “I want you to know that. Do you understand?”
Maggie stared at him, believing she did, but too terrified she wanted it too much to trust her own judgement.
“I hope I do,” she said carefully. “But I would like you to be very clear, with no ambiguity.”
He smiled at that and nodded, allowing her to get to her feet. “I can do that, and we shall talk seriously very soon, my dearest Mrs Finchley, but for now I had best help you get this sleepy fellow home. Wait there.”
Larkin disappeared for a moment and returned with a blanket which he laid over Gideon before scooping the boy up in his arms. Gideon huffed but laid his head trustingly against Larkin’s shoulder. Maggie watched as Larkin smiled fondly down at the lad and felt her hopes soar. Perhaps it really was possible for fortune to shine on their family again.
Perhaps Auntie Connie had broken the mould, and now, anything was possible.