He drew in a deep breath. "If no one means to go to watch the parliamentary proceedings with me, I shall go by myself."
Perry raised a single brow. "We leave early tomorrow for Brighton."
John eyed Perry. "I'm not going."
"It's not as if Aldridge will have spies inside Perry's lodgings," Arlington said. "We'll see that the women stay indoors, if that's what you're worried about,"
John's gaze fanned over his three friends. "My decision has nothing to do with Duke of Aldridge."
Perry started to chuckle. "I see. You've finally bedded Lady Finchley."
"And why shouldn't a man bed his own wife?" John challenged. It was no different than telling a lie. He never, ever lied to Perry. Yet tonight he wanted Perry to believe he and Maggie were married in that most vital way. "Has it never occurred to you that a man can tire of dissipation?"
He thought of Georgie Weatherford, of being a father. He thought of Rothcomb-Smedley and his duties in Parliament. He thought of the serious-minded Haverstock and Aldridge, whom no one could deny were honorable men.
He felt less a man and more a boy.
"I wish to bring pride to my grandmother and to my wife. I've been thinking even of taking my seat in the House of Lords."
"Put your hand on his forehead, Knowles," Perry commanded. "Finch must be mad with fever."
"I've never felt better. I choose to act like a man." He turned and walked away.
He was almost ashamed to admit that he was six-and-twenty years of age and had never once taken enough interest in the proceedings of the House of Commons to actually take in a session at St. Stephen's Chapel in the Palace of Westminster. He took a couple of false starts before he managed to find St. Stephen's and climb the stairs to the gallery where he squeezed into one of the last remaining seats. Members below—some raucously—discussed the merits of the tax bill.
He found himself admiring Rothcomb-Smedley. The man could not be more than five and twenty and already he held one of the most important posts in government. All because of dedication and nobility of character.
Fleetingly, John wondered if this time next year Rothcomb-Smedley and Lady Clair would have a son. How rich their lives would be.
Especially when compared to John's.
During a lull in the proceedings below, his gaze wandered, then connected with the Duke of Aldridge's. His brother-in-law was not more than twenty feet away from him. Their eyes linked. The duke nodded, then spoke to the man beside him, who scooted down. Aldridge indicated for John to come sit beside him.
He excused himself and a moment later was lowering himself onto the bench by Aldridge.
"I did not know you were interested in things like tax bills," the duke said.
"My interests seem to be changing. In fact, I'm thinking seriously about taking my seat with you in the House of Lords."
A smile slowly spread across the duke's face. "I will help you in any way I can."
"As I will help you."
Aldridge regarded him for a long moment. "Then you approve of the tax increase?"
"How could I not when it's so necessary?"
The smile Aldridge bestowed upon him made John feel as if he knew what it felt like to be coronated.
After the votes were tallied, and the measure was proclaimed to pass, all the men surrounding them began shaking the duke's hand, their faces lifted with pleasure. "You must be very proud," one man said to Aldridge, "since you're the moving force behind this bill."
"Wellington will likely bow at your feet," another said.
"It's been a momentous day, to be sure," the duke said.
John thought of Rothcomb-Smedley's proposal of marriage and of the Haverstocks' new babe. And now successful passage of the tax bill. It was indeed a momentous day.
He would like to have rushed home to share the good news with Maggie. She would be so proud of her brother's success. But by the time they left St. Stephen's, it was after three in the morning. Maggie would be asleep in her bed.
When she awakened the following morning, her maid presented her with a note from her husband. Even though they’d been married for nearly two months, she had never seen his handwriting. A smile curved her lips as her gaze swept over the page. His hand conveyed the same breezy, carefree, youthful traits that imbued John. It was indistinguishable from that of a youth of sixteen.
Dearest Maggie,
I am obliged to miss going to Trent Square today as there are other matters of import that demand my attention. I expect to be away all day, but I beg that you join me for dinner at my grandmother’s house. I have sent a similar letter to her, notifying her of my intentions of spending the evening with the two most important women in my life. If all goes well I will be at liberty at that time to make an announcement that I hope will please you both.
Affectionately,
John
That she was the only person to call him John and he was the only one to call her Maggie still had the power to gladden her. How pathetic she was that she must take pleasure in such little things.
The pleasure she derived from her husband’s note, though, was no small thing. He had said she was one of the two most important women in his life! He wanted to spend the whole evening with her. More bricks were being laid in the foundation of their marriage.
How ominous his letter was. What kind of announcement could he possibly make that would please both women? Had he acquiesced to a firm resolve to stay away from high-stakes play? Had he—remembering his unfortunate father’s demise—determined to become a teetotaler? Though she could wish for a promise from him to stay away from lightskirts, she knew her husband well enough to understand he would never discuss such a subject in the presence of his grandmother.
It was really awfully mysterious how she had come to understand him so well. She’d never before been a particularly intuitive person, but with him she was. It was as if there was some magical connection between them. She could not remember a single instance when her intuitions about him had been wrong.
From the first she had understood his great aversion to marriage. She knew that he embraced his freedom to pursue pleasure with a great heartiness. She realized he would rather be with his friends than to mingle in polite society.
She also understood that though he deserved his reputation as a rake, his intrinsic good was at odds with the actions that had defined him the past decade. His grandmother saw beneath the reckless behavior to the fine man he truly was.
There had always been—on Margaret’s part—an exclusive bond to him. The attraction had been there for as long as she could remember. No one, no obstacle, or no thing had ever been able to diminish its fierceness.
She wished his grandmother could see him with Georgie and the other lads. Something inside her melted. How she longed for him to have his own son. What a wonderful father he would be. His grandmother knew that.
Now Margaret did too. As much as she wanted her own son, she wanted John to become a father even more passionately.
I must mimic Caro
.
In her hands was the ability to see that dream come to fruition. If only she could seduce him. All the subterfuge would be worth it if she could get him to get her with child for he would adore a son. She would adore a son. And Grandmere would adore a great grandson.
After she dressed, she scurried downstairs and found Mrs. Primm. “Do you know if we have any champagne here at Finchley House?”
“I believe there's a case laid away in the wine cellar.”
“Please have it sent to the dowager’s house on Berkeley Square with a note that says Lady Finchley has sent it for tonight’s celebration.”
As determined as Margaret was, she knew she could use all the help she could get.
* * *
This was the first time in weeks she’d gone to Trent Square and not found her husband there. All the lads were vastly disappointed.
As was Mrs. Weatherford, judging by the disappointed look on her pretty face. “I believe,” Mrs. Weatherford said, “I’ve learned enough about cricket to take them out today.”
“It is a lovely day,” Margaret said.
“Will you come with us, or is this your day for the pianoforte?”
“It’s pianoforte day,” Margaret said, feigning disappointment.
Mikey came running up to her, his little arms held up. Even though he was excessively fond of Margaret, she knew his first interest was being swung into the air. She hugged him close for a moment, smacking his cheek with kisses, then swept him through the air as he squealed.
His mother stood watching, a smile on her face.
Margaret set him down and eyed his mother. “How’s the new cook?”
“She’s most satisfactory.”
Margaret helped Mrs. Weatherford gather up the cricket equipment John had left there and assisted in corralling all the lads out to the park area.
When she returned to the house, Mrs. Hudson was descending the stairs, a dreamy expression on her face.
For some unaccountable reason, Margaret’s gaze leapt to the widow’s left hand. Every day since the two women had met a year earlier, Mrs. Hudson had worn her deceased husband’s plain gold wedding band.
But not today.
Margaret smiled up at her.
“May I have a word with you, my lady?”
“Would you like to walk along the pavement?” Margaret asked. “It’s a lovely day.”
“Indeed I would.” Her gaze swept to Carter. “Will you watch out for Louisa?”
He bestowed an equally dreamy expression at her. “You need never ask.”
“I am so blessed to have Carter in Louisa’s life. No birth father could be more loving.”
The women left Number 7 and began to walk along in front the houses on the square.
“I wanted you to be the first to know,” Mrs. Hudson said.
“That I was right about Abraham Carter being in love with you?”
Mrs. Hudson nodded shyly. “After you spoke to me that day, I realized the feelings I felt for him were very tender.”
“But both of you were too shy to disclose the feelings.”
The other woman nodded solemnly.”He’s possessed of such a noble countenance, I knew he would never make the first step.”
“So what did you do?”
“I prayed for the Lord to give me the courage to declare my feelings for him. I practiced what I was going to say for days. And finally I told myself that I held the keys to my happiness in my hands. Failing to act upon it could punish all three of us, could deprive us of all those things I had once shared with dear Harry.”
“So you had finally realized that you were meant to be married again?”
Mrs. Hudson nodded. “I can think of no finer man to unite with than Abraham.”
“Indeed he is.” Margaret’s step slowed. “So I take it the Lord gave you the courage? Pray how did you bring this about?” Perhaps Margaret could learn from this woman.
“First I contrived to be alone with him.” She swallowed. “Since you’re a married woman, I can tell you that because I’ve been wed before, I know a bit about physical intimacy. I know how to gauge a man’s reaction to it.”
This was exactly the kind of information Margaret needed to hear. “With a true gentleman, the woman often has to make the first move.” Margaret thought of The Kiss. As much as John had enjoyed it—and she had no doubts of that—he had not initiated it. Nor would he. He respected her far too much. More’s the pity. “So what did you do?”
“First I asked him to walk with me as you and I doing right now. I told him I needed to discuss something about the household accounts. Then I managed to link my arm through his. It was the first time we had ever touched in the soon-to-be-a-year since we’d met. Still, that was somewhat stiff and formal.” The widow blushed. “Then, it embarrasses me to tell you, but I made sure the sides of my breasts rubbed against him.”
Margaret wondered if Mrs. Hudson then eyed the lowest part of Abraham’s torso to see if it did that cannon thing Caro had told her about.
“I. . . I believed he was not unaffected by my intimacy.”
So she had looked at his private part! Really, Margaret should not be thinking of her former footman’s private part.
“After I finished discussing the deliveries that were to be paid for that day, we started back to Number 7. When we reached the steps to the front door, I stopped. I stepped on my tiptoes and brushed a kiss across his cheek.”
“Did you say anything?”
“I thanked him for being the most important man in my life.”
“And he just let you walk into the house?”
A smile broke across Mrs. Hudson’s face. “Actually, no. He told me I was the most wonderful woman he’d ever met and that if I weren’t still in mourning for my husband, he should like to always take care of me.”
“So you’re to be married?”
The widow nodded happily. “We wanted to wait to tell the others once I’d had the opportunity to speak to you.” Mrs. Hudson clasped Margaret’s hand. “We owe our happiness to you.”
Margaret held both of the other woman’s hands. “True love like yours would have found a way, but I am happy I helped to speed it along. I cannot tell you how much this pleases me. I know you two will be very happy together.”
* * *
Later that day Margaret had her coachman stop at St. George’s Hanover Square. She kept thinking of Mrs. Hudson’s words about the key to her happiness lay in her hands. Just as it did with Margaret. Like Mrs. Hudson, she must pray for the courage to make John see how good a marriage between them could be.
It was much warmer in the church now than it had been that day, the day of her marriage to John. Then it had been cold.
Like that day, she had the church to herself, and like that fortuitous day, she ambled to the candles at the side of the church and lighted one, then knelt to pray.
Dear Lord, You once gave me the courage to emulate my sister, and it resulted in fulfillment of my fondest hope. Now I beg that once more you enable me to speak to my husband as a true wife should. I pray for the blessed consummation of this marriage I’ve wanted all of my life—and which I know can be good for him too. I ask all of this in Your name
.