Page 20 of Debtor’s Daughter (Wicked Sons #11)

Dear Lord and Lady Montagu,

St Anne’s Church, Soho, will host the wedding of Miss Connie Merrivale and Mr Cecil Thompson on November 16th at 11 am, with the reception to be held at Ridgeley House, Belgravia, to which you are cordially invited.

―Excerpt from a letter from Miss Connie Merrivale to The Most Hon’ble Marquess and Marchioness of Montagu.

13 th November 1850, Berwick Street, Soho, London.

If Larkin had been under any illusion as to the state of his physiognomy, Maggie’s shriek of alarm on finding him waiting for her in her parlour the next day put them to rest.

“Oh dear, is it that bad?” he asked ruefully, watching the colour leave her face.

“What happened?” she demanded, rushing to him and touching gentle fingers to his face, the worry in her eyes warming his heart. “Does it hurt? Who did this to you? Oh, if I get my hands on them—”

Larkin didn’t doubt she’d wreak some vengeance if she could; she was far braver and more capable than even she realised.

“Hush, love. It’s all right. You should have seen the other fellow!” he added with a laugh.

“How can you joke about it?” she exclaimed crossly. “How did this happen?”

“You’ve asked me that twice now but still not given me the chance to explain. Why don’t we sit down, and I shall explain?”

Hardly soothed but slightly mollified, Maggie allowed him to guide her to the sofa, where he sat close to her and took her hands in his.

“Now, love,” he began, seeing her cheeks turn pink with pleasure at the intimate address. He smiled and squeezed her hands. “Before I tell you the whole story, I have a present for you.”

Her brow wrinkled in confusion at the sudden switch in topic. “A present?”

“Yes. Are you ready?”

Maggie let out a little huff, clearly believing it was a ruse to distract her from his injuries. “Very well.”

Larkin grinned, reached into his coat pocket and withdrew the small bundle of documents he had received in the post earlier that morning with a congratulatory note from Leo. He handed it to Maggie, who gazed down at it in confusion.

“What is this?” she asked, her fair eyebrows drawn together.

“Well, that’s the thing with packages and parcels, darling. You must open them to discover what’s inside.”

Sending him a look of sheer exasperation, she tugged on the ribbon holding the documents together and unfolded them. She stared down at the title page on the deed to her beloved manor for such a long time, he suspected she did not dare to believe what she was seeing. Then her breath caught, and she turned to him, eyes wide, her hand pressed to her heart.

“What—? What does it mean?”

“You know what it is, darling, and yes, it’s quite authentic. Those are the deeds to your estate. The manor is yours again, Maggie.”

He watched her, his heart swelling with too many emotions as her eyes filled with tears and her throat worked. “H-How? I-I don’t understand.”

“I won it back last night, for you, love,” he said simply. “If you hadn’t realised it yet, I’d do anything for you, Maggie, and whilst I might not quite manage the moon and stars, I hoped this might be a good start.”

Maggie looked down again at the deeds, and he saw a fat tear plop onto the vellum. She gave a choked laugh and wiped it away, before gazing at him in wonder.

“You won it back,” she said unsteadily, disbelieving. “For me?”

He nodded. “For you and for Gideon, and Caro too. Because I love you, Maggie, and I wanted you to have your home back. To know that you had options, and you were under no obligation to say yes.”

She stilled, staring at him. “Say yes to what?” she asked, her breathing growing fast and erratic.

“To the question I’m about to ask you,” he said with a smile. He got to his knees beside her and raised one hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles tenderly, his heart beating harder than he could ever remember as he put it on the line once more. He did not wish to think of what he might feel if she rejected him, but he would not hold back, risking it all with his eyes wide open this time. “My darling Magdelina, I finally know what it is I want, and who it is I wish to share the rest of my life with. If you will have me, I would be the happiest man alive if you would consent to be my wife, if you would allow me to be a father to Gideon, and to live our days in the beautiful home that means so much to you both.”

Maggie’s hand flew to her mouth, and she stifled a sob. For a moment, Larkin felt as if his entire life hung in the balance, but he waited, hardly daring to breathe until she gave a strangled laugh and threw her arms about his neck.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, throwing herself at him with such force he fell over backwards, taking her with him. “Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!” she cried, covering his face with kisses as he laughed and held her to him.

The door flew open then, and Caro stood in the doorway and gave a little scream of shock as she saw Maggie sprawled on top of Larkin in an appearance of complete abandon, skirts and petticoats billowing around her.

“Maggie!” she exclaimed, clearly thinking her big sister had taken leave of her senses.

Aunt Connie, appearing a bare second later, looked over her niece’s shoulder and didn’t so much as blink. She only gave a satisfied nod. “Well done, Maggie, dear. It’s about time too,” she said with a touch of exasperation. “I already told Cecil to plan for a double wedding and he applied for the licence when he got ours done, so everything will be ready for you.”

This startling piece of information stunned everyone into silence, and no one had anything to add except for the clock.

Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!

“Is Gideon awake yet?” Maggie asked Priddy as she entered the kitchen.

“No, Mrs Finchley, not yet. Shall I wake him?” the little maid asked politely.

“Oh, no, thank you, Priddy. Let him sleep. We had terrible trouble getting him to bed last night,” she told Larkin, giving him a pointed look. “For he insisted he could not be expected to go to sleep in the middle of a war with France. So that’s two late nights he’s had in a row.”

Larkin hid a smile and attempted to look sheepish. “I beg your pardon. I will do better in the future, I promise.”

“I know you will,” Maggie said, her teasing expression turning to one of such adoration Larkin had to clear his throat to remind her they were not alone.

Maggie started and turned back to the kitchen table, where all the staff were assembled at their request having just received their happy news. She blushed a fiery red as everyone grinned indulgently at them. Giving their mistress a moment to gather herself, they returned to their conversation.

“So what’s this manor like, then?” Barnes was asking. “I’ve been hoping Mr Weston would return to the country this age, but he don’t listen to me,” he added, earning a reproving glance from Larkin, which only made him laugh.

Mrs Goodall immediately launched into a detailed description of the charming old manor house with particular detail about the kitchen, over which Mrs Moody had agreed to preside. Mrs Goodall would return as housekeeper, with Wallace restored to his position as butler. Priddy had decided to remain in town as her family were here, but Larkin had promised to find her a position with one of his friends, so she was satisfied too. Sally would stay on as Maggie’s lady’s maid, and Barnes, whom Larkin considered as much a part of his life as Maggie did Wallace and Mrs Goodall, would obviously continue as valet.

With everything else settled, all that remained was to inform Larkin’s parents, news that he knew would put their minds at rest after his behaviour over the previous years, and to tell Gideon. This last was, he had to admit, giving him more than a little anxiety. It was one thing to befriend a fatherless boy, but quite another to try to be a father to him.

Whilst he was reasonably sure Gideon would be pleased, there was always the chance he might resent Larkin inserting himself so forcefully into his life. Nervously, he reached into his pocket to reassure himself his gift for the child was still there. He hadn’t shown it to Maggie yet, and did not know if he was making a horrible mistake, but he didn’t think so. His instincts told him this was the right thing to do, and finally he felt his confidence return to him.

“Mama?” said a sleepy voice, and everyone turned to see a rumpled Gideon standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes.

“There’s my darling. Did you have a nice nap, Giddy?” Maggie asked, holding her arms out to her son, who went to her and climbed into her lap.

“Yes, but want my soldiers now.”

“In a moment, darling. Mrs Moody has made crumpets for tea. Would you like some?”

“Crumpets? With butter and jam?” he asked, perking up.

“Why, how else would you eat them?” Maggie said with a smile. “Of course with butter and jam.”

Having expected the order the moment Gideon appeared, Mrs Moody set a plate with two crumpets, liberally slathered with butter and jam on the table. Picking up a chair, she placed it between Maggie and Larkin, who moved to make space.

“Sit there, Master Gideon, and don’t go getting sticky fingers on your mama’s skirts.”

“Yes, Moody,” he said, scrambling onto the seat and taking a bite before she could get the large napkin tucked into his shirtfront.

“There,” she said, satisfied. “Would it be all right if we popped next door, missus?” she asked Maggie. “Mr Barnes is opening a bottle of something for us all to celebrate your good news, and I promised to take a couple of bottles of my peapod wine. I’ll be back in plenty of time to get dinner done, I promise.”

“Of course,” Maggie said, smiling. “Go and enjoy yourselves. There’s no rush. We won’t mind if dinner is a little late.”

Thanking her, the staff went out, closing the door behind them.

Left alone with only Gideon, Maggie gave Larkin a conspiratorial smile. “I shouldn’t bank on getting any dinner tonight. Mrs Moody’s peapod wine is not to be trifled with.”

Larkin laughed, but Gideon’s ears pricked up.

“Trifle?” he asked hopefully.

“Not tonight, you little rogue,” Larkin said, laughing and getting up to fetch a damp cloth. Carefully, he wiped Gideon’s sticky hands and took the empty plate away. Despite his earlier confidence, he felt sick with nerves now. “Gideon, could I have a little talk with you?” Gideon nodded, looking expectantly at Larkin as he sat back down again.

“Want to play war?”

Larkin grinned. “I certainly do, but not right now. I need to show you something.”

“More soldiers?”

“Not more soldiers, but one very special soldier,” Larkin said, reaching into his pocket.

Maggie frowned in confusion and then gasped as Larkin set the little miniature he’d done on the table. He’d never painted a miniature before, and it had been difficult for more reasons that simply the blurry photo that Montagu had secured for him from he knew not where. But there was Gideon’s father, looking handsome and proud in his red coat.

“This is a picture of your papa, Gideon,” Larkin said softly, aware of Maggie trying not to cry beside him. “He was a very, very brave man, a hero, who went to war to keep us all safe.”

Gideon squinted down at the tiny image and looked back at Larkin, eyes wide. “Papa is in heaven,” he said eagerly. “Mama said, but… this is Papa too?”

“Yes,” Larkin agreed, suddenly finding his throat very tight. “This is a painting of what your papa looked like, and it is for you to keep always, so you can remember him.”

“For me?” Gideon repeated, picking up the picture and staring at it very hard. “My papa,” he said. “Look, Mama! Look what Westie gave me.”

“I see it, darling,” Maggie said, her eyes shining as she stared at Larkin in wonder. “And it is a beautiful gift, and you must treasure it always and keep it safe. It… It looks just like him, you know.”

Gideon beamed at her and stared down again at the little portrait.

“Fanks, Westie,” he said, putting the tiny painting down and getting off his chair.

Larkin had to swallow hard as the child hugged him tightly. He picked Gideon up and settled him on his knee. “There’s something else I want to talk to you about, Gideon,” he said, as this was the part that made his heart clench with anxiety. “Because you don’t have a papa here, as he’s in heaven, but I would very, very much like a son like you.”

“Like me?” Gideon repeated, eyes wide.

“Just like you,” Larkin agreed. “You see, I love your mama very much, and I love you too, and though I’m not a brave soldier like your father, I am here, and I would very much like to be here for you every day, if you think you would not mind it?”

“Would you live here with Mama and me?”

“Well, not here, but yes, back at your old house, the manor. We would all live together and see each other every day. You and your mama, and me.”

Gideon stared up at him thoughtfully. “All right, then,” he said simply. “Can I get my soldiers now?”

Larkin stared at him, a little taken aback. “Er… yes, if you want to.”

“Can you read to me tonight then, if you’re my papa? And can we play ball? And can we have cake, and can we—”

“Yes!” Larkin said, nodding to all of it. “Yes, and I’ll take you fishing, and teach you to ride like an out-an’-outer, and drive a carriage, and do all the things my papa did with me, I promise.”

Gideon gave a whoop and ran from the room. “Stay there, I get my soldiers!” he shouted, thundering from the room with all the grace of a small hippopotamus.

“Well,” Maggie said, her voice trembling with emotion. “I do hope you’ve allowed a little time for your wife among all those manly activities,” she said with mock indignation, and then burst into tears.

“Darling,” Larkin said, pulling her into his arms. “I’m so sorry. Ought I to have warned you? It must have been a shock to see him again like that.”

“It was,” she said, laughing and crying at once. “But a lovely shock, and you know, I had the strangest feeling when I saw his face, the sense that he was happy for us, that he approved. I think he would have liked you, Larkin. Very much.”

“I will do my very best to be a father to Gideon, love, I promise, but you might need to be patient with me. I’m rather new to this, you see.”

“No,” Maggie said, gazing up at him. “No, you are already perfect, and I love you, Larkin Weston, with all my heart.”