Page 29 of Entwined By Error (Madcaps of Mayfair #1)

How A Husband Contrived to Woo His Own Wife

Daniel sat in his study, his quill poised above the inkwell so that the dripping ink would land back where it had originated instead of leaking onto his walnut desk.

He didn’t need a mess while he gathered his thoughts—thoughts that had not recovered since he’d seen Myra standing in the drawing room, safe, unharmed, and as blissfully sharp-tongued as he’d always known her to be.

He hadn’t slept, tossing and turning while he fought with the desire to go to her bedchamber to watch over her as she slept to reassure himself that she was still there.

It calmed his racing heart just a bit to know she hadn’t left him to go home to her family.

Although he hadn’t said it the night before, he had feared that she had thrown her hands in the air and given up on this marriage.

Her only option would have been to run home to Mr. and Mrs. Astley to report that he was a horrible husband and she needed an annulment.

He wouldn’t grant her an annulment, not for all the money in Mr. Astley’s coffers.

He couldn’t pinpoint what it was that drew him to her, which was the source of his troubles that morning.

Words refused to flow from his head into the quill and onto the parchment.

The inspiration that had driven him to paint was gone.

His mind was a muddled mess, and the world around him no longer held his interest.

Myra was all he thought about—the beauty of her hair blowing in the wind, the way she looked as she sat at the pianoforte.

He’d spent the last three months watching her, waiting for her to let down her guard and accept him as her husband, and yet it had all been for naught.

His mother’s intrusion the day before had destroyed everything.

Placing the quill upon the blotter, Daniel buried his head in his hands.

He hadn’t had a clear thought since he’d first met Myra Astley, and he was certain never to have a moment’s peace ever again, so flustered he was with her presence.

His mind had been blocked since her silly little fan had flown across the ballroom and hit his chest.

Ready to give up on accomplishing anything of worth that day, Daniel looked up as his mother stepped into the study. “The carriage is ready. Will you not wish me a safe journey?”

“I was on my way to do so when you arrived, Mama.” He pushed up from the chair and stepped around the desk. Reaching into his frock coat, he extracted the letter he’d penned to Southwood that morning. “I trust you will carry this letter to my brother.”

“Thank you for writing it.” She tucked the folded parchment into her reticule. “Southwood may not ever admit it, but he desires to be like you, Daniel.”

Daniel grimaced as he took a step backward so he could lean against the desk. “I do not know why. My life is anything but enviable.”

“You simply do not realize all you have.”

“It was a mistake, Mama. The shackles. The decision to join Mrs. Northcott and me in a marriage. She will never forgive me for that day.”

“Then you have not told her that I am the one who arranged the affair?”

“No. It seems rather pointless to provide a reason for her to dislike everyone in the family.”

“Perhaps she will one day be thankful.”

He laughed, but only because it seemed completely absurd to think that any good would come of his marriage. “If ever that day arrives, I shall give you all the credit.”

She stepped forward and took his hand. “Indeed, you shall. Now, escort me to my carriage so I may be on my way.”

“I should like to see you back to London. Ensure you are safe.”

“You cannot leave Mrs. Northcott, especially after yesterday. The poor dear is quite vulnerable, and you mustn’t leave her in this state.”

“Myra is made of sturdier qualities than you give her credit.”

She laughed, patting his cheek. “My dear boy, why have you not yet told her how you feel? You spend too much time avoiding your feelings instead of speaking them, pretending to be a man armed with only sarcasm and wit when I know you to have the heart of a poet.”

“She is not ready to hear what I wish to say.”

“Then stop avoiding her. Walk with her. The shoreline is quite lovely this time of year. Blackbriar Hall has plenty of walking paths and even a pond for a picnic. If you cannot express yourself in the drawing room, then you must court your wife. For I vow to vex you with letters aplenty until I have a grandchild.”

“Once you have one, what will you have to complain about?”

His mother stepped back as she pulled her gloves out of her reticule. As she fit them onto her hands, she said, “Then, I will simply be annoyed that you have not brought my grandchild to Northcott Castle for a visit. Letter upon letter will arrive at Blackbriar Hall until I am satisfied.”

He held his arm out, allowing his mother to take it as he walked with her to the front of the house. “Then I am never to have another moment’s rest?”

“Not so long as I am alive, Daniel.”

He waited by the post chaise as his mother said farewell to Myra. When she was ready, he assisted his mother into the carriage, and then he stood by Myra as it rolled away.

“She means well. I do hope her inquiries did not offend,” Daniel said as he watched the progression of the carriage as it rolled out of the front gates.

For the briefest of moments, her fingers brushed against his, and Daniel wondered if his wife would take his hand—but then she held her hands locked in front of her stomach. “Not at all. Your mother will always be welcome at Blackbriar Hall.”

Daniel cleared his throat as he considered the advice his mother had given. He knew she was right. Swallowing his pride, he turned to Myra. “It is a lovely day; I should like a walk. Would you care to join me?”

Myra’s countenance warmed in an instant, her eyes shimmering with a curiosity that sent an unsteady rhythm through his chest. Had she been waiting for him to relent?

Fool that he was, he realized it could be nothing else.

He had kept himself a fortress these past months, offering her no sure footing on the shifting sands of his moods.

She bit her lips together and reached out, taking his hand, squeezing it and sending a flutter of nerves through his chest. “Yes, of course. I only need step inside to retrieve my bonnet and parasol.”

He nodded, certain the few minutes it would take her to gather those things would be enough for him to gather his composure, but when she returned, he was still quite unsettled.

Whatever would they speak about? The topic his mother had introduced into their marriage was one he would rather not approach, which meant he needed to think of something else before they reached the path that stretched between the front walkway along the garden paths.

The gravel crunched beneath their shoes, every sound echoing in his ears as he fought to say something interesting. He’d never had trouble speaking to women, but his wife tended to render him mute.

They walked side by side along the manicured hedges of the rose garden, not entering but continuing along a path that would take them out toward the cliffs. The air was mild, the morning sun bathing them in light with a soft breeze from the salty sea.

Daniel admired the way she twirled her parasol in a gentle, idle circle. He was about to speak when she chose to start the conversation. “I received a letter from my sister Juliana this morning.”

“How is your family faring in London?”

“Very well. The summer months haven’t been as exciting as Juliana hoped, but I am sure she will have enough to do once the fall session is in full swing. I think Juliana wishes she could visit Blackbriar Hall.”

“Your family is welcome to join us here.”

Myra turned to look at him, her eyes squinting up at him due to the sun. “I should love to have Juliana in residence. I miss her more than the rest of my sisters though they are all so wonderful.”

Daniel nodded. He would leave the invitation in her capable hands. “Did she have any news from London?”

“Quite a lot.” Myra smiled up at him. “You are aware of Lady Evans?”

“I am acquainted with her, more so her husband.”

“Well, it seems she has acquired a new pet. A fox that she claims is domesticated.”

“Do you mean to say she treats it as though it were a puppy?”

“I am afraid so.”

Daniel whistled. “A recipe for disaster.”

“Indeed.” Myra twirled the parasol again, her eyes alight with mirth. “The poor creature has a lavender silk ribbon tied around its russet neck. Juliana said it is rather darling.”

“Do not tell me she wishes to take a fox as a pet herself?”

“No, especially since she is looking to find a husband. Lady Evans, on the other hand, is already married, as you well know, and has no compulsion to abide by decorum.”

“Indeed,” Daniel said, catching a hint of intrigue in Myra’s words. He gave her a sidelong glance, exchanging a smile with her. “Tell me, what trouble has this pet caused in London?”

“Juliana claims that Lady Evans has trained the fox to growl at bores.”

Daniel arched a brow. “Well then, the poor thing is likely hoarse after each social engagement, especially garden parties where everyone speaks of the weather and the state of the roads.”

“She takes it to every gathering, even those at Almack’s. The patronesses were quite beside themselves, especially when the dear little fox bit the Duke of Mullond’s ankle.”

A laugh burst from Daniel’s chest. He’d expected there would have been trouble, but to hear that the formidable duke, a man feared by most within the ton, had been the recipient of such treatment, that in and of itself calmed the wild beating of his heart.

Myra was not so frightening, not when her eyes were soft and alight with mirth.

“I have no doubt he demanded the fox be sent away.”

Myra giggled and then she reached out, placing her hand on his arm. “Lady Evans ran across the assembly hall, waving her hands in the air as she shouted, ‘Oh dear, he does get peckish after a lively waltz!’”

“Stop! This very moment, I beg of you to stop,” Daniel cried out as he wrapped one hand around his middle. He hadn’t laughed so hard, ever. It took a moment for him to recover before he could ask his most pressing question. “Whatever did Mullond do?”

“I am uncertain. Although Juliana claims the whole of Society has declared the fox is welcome at each engagement, and the Duke of Mullond may leave town whenever he sees fit. Can you believe we have missed such excitement?”

“No matter the year, there will always be something lively happening behind the walls of Society and along the hidden pathways of the gardens.” Daniel stopped walking and turned to look at his wife, wondering if she would rather be in London than at Blackbriar with him. “Do you miss Society?”

“Not at all, Mr. Northcott.” She reached out again, placing her hand on his arm once more. “I find Blackbriar Hall to be the perfect home. I do not regret the time we have here, and perhaps now that we are on speaking terms, we may find a bit of intrigue within the walls of our own home.”

His breath caught in his throat as he considered her words.

It sounded as though she was as willing to leave the past few months behind them as he was.

In his excitement, he was more than ready to declare himself, but the situation was still too delicate.

This accord they were discovering was far too new, and so he would have to exercise patience.

“I could not agree more, Mrs. Northcott. Although we shall not find anything as exciting as a fox challenging a duke’s rightful place in Society this far north.”

“An infamous fox, indeed.”

“A cheeky little scamp.” He met her gaze, wishing he dared to touch her face once more, exactly as he had the night before, but it was too soon.

Instead, after they had stood in silence for a few moments, staring into each other’s eyes, they continued walking along the cliff, engaged in light conversation.

When they returned to the house, Daniel went to his study once more while Myra retired to the music room.

As she sang, her voice sounded different; a clarity he hadn’t heard before, a happiness she’d not communicated in the past, now flowed through the halls of Blackbriar, brightening passageways as though the rays of the sun were flowing in through every window.

Daniel picked up his quill, staring at the blank sheet of parchment in his notebook for only a second before the words began flowing from his mind onto the page.

I wed thee, bound by law and name,

Not knowing love could bloom so fair;

Yet now I burn beneath thy flame,

Ensnared by grace and gilded stare.

My heart is thine—my soul laid bare.

He placed the quill upon the blotter once more, rereading the words that had escaped his heart.

They weren’t perfect, but he had never considered himself a poet.

They were real, raw—exactly how he felt about his wife.

He reviewed the words once more and decided that one day, he might share what he had written with the woman who had inspired him.